There's Nothing Else I Can Say
by GreenAngel16
Summary: At the end of his 5th year following the battle in the Department of Mysteries and the death of his Godfather, Sirius Black, Harry has found himself without a voice. With no cure to be found, Harry is forced to spend a lonely summer at the Dursleys once more. Upon returning for his 6th year at Hogwarts Harry finds salvation in the person he least expected.
1. Prologue

**Note: Hi there, this is my first ever Harry Potter fanfiction. I have a few that I wish to write so here is the beginning to my first one. I hope you enjoy it and will want to read more. Begins at the end of Book 5 and follows somewhat of the storyline. Sort of ignores book 6.**

**I do not own Harry Potter, such rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. **

**Some text has been used from book 5.**

**Summary: At the end of his 5****th**** year following the battle in the Department of Mysteries and the death of his Godfather, Sirius Black, Harry has found himself without a voice. With no cure to be found, Harry is forced to spend a lonely summer at the Dursleys once more. Upon returning for his 6****th**** year at Hogwarts Harry must face many challenges a long with his disability finding salvation in a person he least expected.**

**There's Nothing Else I Can Say**

**By GreenAngel16**

* * *

**Prologue**

_ He wanted to die. He knew it now; even though he wished with everything he had in him to not believe what was true. Sirius was dead and it was because of him. It was too much; this life was too much to take. He wanted to let it go. He wanted Dumbledore to kill him. He could hear Voldemort's slithering voice digging into his mind, his heart, his soul and trying to break it all. The creature inside of him was burning him from the inside out it felt and it was unbearable. Tears sprung to his eyes, wet and cold despite how much the pain seared his whole body. And a voice that was both his and the demon's spoke:_

_ "Kill me now, Dumbledore…"_

_ He knew he would die, he just knew it because this pain was worse than death, it had to be._

_ If I die… Harry thought. I'll see Sirius again… _

_ And everything just seemed to fall into a deep darkness and Harry thought he would never see the light again…_

* * *

**2 Days later**

He sat up in bed looking out the far off window. He was the only one in the hospital wing but he could hear Madame Pomfrey in her office. Harry found it hard to care about anything at the moment. He kept remembering what had happened in Dumbledore's office where he and the man had traveled to by portkey after the events in the Ministry of Magic.

_He remembered feeling such agony in his heart and how cold his body was and how he shivered because of how angry he had been. He was so angry at Dumbledore, at Snape, at anyone he could blame to keep from blaming himself. He had thrown things around in Dumbledore's office, shattering glass and useless things until he wanted to hurt the man for not letting him leave his office. He had felt trapped, felt hopeless but eternally guilty and it was eating him away bit by bit making his mind insane. He wanted to cry but couldn't, he didn't allow any tears to fall and the thing he wanted to do most he could not. Harry Potter could not speak. Dumbledore had been saying things to him, meaningless almost, things about his friends, that they were going to be fine, things about Sirius, trying to explain to Harry what had happened…and Harry could not argue with the man. He wanted so desperately to yell, to shout, to scream at the top of his lungs for Dumbledore to let him out but no sound would leave his lips._

_ He had stood there, looking at the old wizard who was just as silent as him. He had lost his breath and was trying to calm down but panic was spreading through his body. Had he lost his voice? His throat did feel somewhat sore but how could he not be able to talk? Not be able to admit any sound from his mouth? What had happened to him? His eyes had grown fearful looking and Dumbledore had noticed this right off. _

_ "Harry, are you alright?" Professor Dumbledore had asked him._

_ Harry had tried to say something, he tried as if he were pushing against a giant stone to say anything to Dumbledore and it was useless. Harry's hands trembled violently and his legs felt as if they had no strength left in them to keep him standing. He began to shake his head to finally answer Dumbledore. _

_ "What is it then, Harry?" the man had asked him._

_ Harry had tried to push down the anger that was viciously strangling him to concentrate. He walked somehow to the man's desk and grabbed up a quill and splashed it in the ink bottle that was next to it almost knocking the bottle over. He grabbed a piece of parchment and as Dumbledore watched the boy do all of this with sudden worry and confusion, Harry hurriedly scribbled:_

_I can't speak I don't know what's wrong_

_He showed the note to Dumbledore who had read it quickly. The old man's soft blue eyes met his. The look in Harry's eyes seemed desperate and such a sadness had been born there now and burrowed itself deep inside beneath the blue. _

_ It was then that he had been taken to the Hospital Wing where he found his friends who had ventured into the Department of Mysteries with him: Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna. They seemed alright with minor injuries. Harry couldn't help the memories painfully swimming up into his head as he had recalled the fresh events once more. How suddenly Sirius had gone still, how achingly slow his body seemed to curve like an arch and fall through the Veil…_

_ "Harry," Hermione said softly once she had noticed them. _

_ Harry did not look at the group who were sitting in their own hospital beds. _

_ "Poppy," the Headmaster had called and the medi witch seemed to glide out of her office carrying bandages and a small bottle of something. _

_ "Why was the boy not brought to me sooner with this lot, look at the state of him!" she fussed. She was referring to his bloodied face and hands. _

_ "I do apologize, Poppy, but there were other matters I needed to discuss with Harry here…however now, I think it best for him to be here…there is something…of a problem with Mr. Potter's voice if you could do so to examine him as soon as possible," Dumbledore's voice was steady buy Harry could hardly hear him. _

_His body was feeling so numb at the moment and he tried once again to make his voice work. It was as if his own throat was resisting him. The strain on it grew worse as did the pain. His chest was so heavy with ache and he felt that he needed to rip at his flesh to make it go away. He staggered as he felt the two beings lead him to a bed at the far end of the hospital wing. His legs barely worked and when he sat down he wanted to stand once more because sitting made him feel how sore everything was in his body and it made the coldness in his veins sting._

_Hands pushed him down to lay upon the hospital mattress; it wasn't comfortable or warm and now Harry was shivering and all he kept feeling was the darkness in his mind when Voldemort had possessed him. How unlike himself he had been, slithering and squirming on the hard Ministry floor, the sand beneath him hot to the touch and cooling on his skin. He had wished for death then and now he wished for it badly no matter if He Who Must Not Be Named still lived, no matter if everything was changing and he hadn't a clue what he was supposed to do now. _

_The hands that had felt so heavy left him slowly and he wasn't aware that he was looking at his friends who were unmoving from their beds and staring at them, sometimes whispering things he could not hear. He could make out Hermione's brown hair, messy now because of the battle, Luna's gaze that always seemed to make him feel like he belonged, Neville's look of worry, and Ron's hazy face. And then the curtain of the bed was wrapped around them hastily. _

_He wanted to apologize, he wanted to cry, he wanted to be anyone else, to possess any one of them so he could not feel at all. Voices he could not make out were speaking now and he knew it was Madame Pomfrey's voice though it was as if she was under water. _

"_Mr. Potter?" _

_Harry barely caught the words and his eyes finally found the face of her. _

"_He looks like he might be in shock, Albus," Madame Pomfrey had out her wand and it was a blurred outline to Harry. _

_If he could have gasped he would have when the sudden warmth came to the back of throat and travelled down and along the rest of his body. It was a strange feeling but it brought him out of his stupor somewhat. _

"_There's no internal damage besides a minor irritation, nothing that would stop his ability to speak I'm quite sure Albus, no curse or spell either," she had told the Headmaster. "None the less I will try some other things to see if it helps…Mr. Potter, are you sure you cannot speak at all?" _

_Harry tried to focus as the sudden anger shot through him again. It was maddening and he wanted to scream so badly. He felt his cheeks burn and he clenched his teeth. _

"_I take that as a no," she said. _

"_I will be back in due time, Poppy, to speak with Harry."_

_Harry's eyes once again caught the man's and he noticed they were watering. The next few moments Harry could not remember. Dumbledore had gone somehow and he had been forced to drink something that did nothing to help Harry's voice work. The mediwitch had ushered his friends back to their dormitories just as the sun was breaking into the sky and the first signs of day light were blossoming into the Wing, gracefully as Harry watched. The ray of sunlight touched Harry's face._

_He felt disconnected, lost and shriveled up. The man's name was stuck in his head, plastered there forever it seemed. _

Sirius

_He felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake him and he vomited into the bed pan. Madame Pomfrey had given him something to settle his stomach and he took it without caring for the taste. There was a hole inside of him; a treacherous hole where Sirius had been. Images were flashing through his mind and he wanted them to stop. _

_The big black dog bounding after the train that was gaining speed, the laughter that belted out as such knowing eyes beamed at him, the tightness of the man's hold on him as they had embraced. He had said they were to be a proper family when all of this was over and now Harry had ruined that possible dream before it even had a chance to settle inside his head. It took everything he had to not just break down completely. _

_How tightly the man had hugged him and the memory of it was gripping him, strangling him, threatening to squeeze the very little life he had left in him. Why did it have to be his fault? Why couldn't he lie to himself and blame someone else? Blame Snape for not helping him more, blame Kreacher, the horrible, miserable thing? Blame Umbridge, the thought of her making Harry's fury rise once more; the woman's tirade was over and he just wanted to hate, hate everything, rip everything to little pieces, destroy it, destroy everything. _

_He found himself lying on his side wanting, wanting with all his heart as much as it could bear to want anything at the moment for it was so cold, wanting, wishing he could have just leapt through the Veil himself._

* * *

He had the same dream but he could not have woken up screaming because his voice was still lost. Dumbledore had seen him once again and had discussed with Harry the prophecy he had heard in the Department of Mysteries. He didn't dare dwell on it now. He could hardly care that Voldemort had marked him and made him the Chosen One. It seemed so ridiculous to know now why he had the scar on his head, to know why his parents had died. He didn't need it. He didn't want the explanation or the healing words of friends. They had come to visit as well and Harry despised their tokens that were at the foot of his bed upon the table. He wanted to set them aflame but Dumbledore had taken his wand away for now for fear of another one of Harry's tantrums.

The dream involved Voldemort standing before him with a wicked smile and his hands would lurch forward and grab Harry's face hissing those words again: _"Look at me." _

Harry would struggle and then the demon would throw him down and he would fall forever and he would see Sirius' body falling with him but no matter what he did he could not reach the man's hand and the darkness would eat him away leaving him feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his entire life.

_Please…_ Harry begged within his thoughts. _Please let me scream…let me…just say anything…_

No matter how hard he tried, as he had done the night before after Dumbledore had left him, trying to make his voice work, straining his muscles in his throat so badly that his cheeks were aflame and tears streamed down his face, his voice would not work. And he was on his knees on the bed, gasping silently, choking on air, suffocating in the madness of it all.

Now he sat there wearing a gray shirt and red plaid pajama bottoms, his feet bare.

_What's going __to happen now? _Harry thought. He couldn't say a word.

He felt stupid as he finally realized with a sudden panic that he would not be able to cast spells. He clenched his fists, gripping the sheets. He was useless, he felt useless, so utterly disposable. Harry knew he was falling into a state of depression though he didn't want to stop falling. He looked to the pad of paper that had been his form of communication for the past 48 hours. The black pen had fallen somewhere and Harry began to search for it. Bending down to pick it up from the floor he could hear footsteps coming close and he prayed it wasn't any of his friends until he looked up to see exactly who had come to visit him and the sight of the tall man walking toward him made him drop the pen he had in-between his fingers.

It was Professor Snape walking with his long strides wearing all black with his tucked in white collar that always reminded Harry of a priest somewhat. He wore no robes, just his long overcoat with too many buttons, black trousers, and those shiny black shoes that were coming toward Harry.

He felt a quiver in his heart and anger flushed to his face. Something was searing through his brain. Words that echoed like a clap of thunder:

"_He's got Padfoot! He's got Padfoot in the place where its hidden…" _

Harry was sitting on his knees when he heard the velvety voice snap at him:

"Mr. Potter, are you _listening_?!"

Harry could only guess that the Potions Master was trying to get his attention and he had zoned out once again. His eyes found the black pools and Harry noticed the slight wince that Snape gave him. He smelt something like wood fire and spices and it tasted bad on his tongue. He was looking at Snape but he wasn't seeing the man even if there was anger in his heart but that was dying now. He willed himself to stop blurring what was in front of him and finally there was Professor Snape looking very annoyed, an expression that Harry always thought could have been Snape's natural face.

Harry tried to say "Yes, sir," but of course nothing came but his lips moved numbly. He settled for a slight nod which seemed to irritate the man even more.

"They said you had gone mute, not deaf, Mr. Potter," Snape's words glided out of his mouth and Harry's right eye twitched with annoyance. He quickly grabbed up the pen and paper pad and noticed that his hands were trembling slightly.

"I am aware that you already know what Poppy has diagnosed you with, Mr. Potter," Snape said and blinked once. "Conversion Disorders are quite rare according to muggle medical studies however, seeing as how she believes that you have this sort of disorder which does not have a cure _I_ believe a different method will prove her _prognoses _incorrect."

Harry knew what Snape was talking about. He had heard the medi witch explain what could be wrong with him since nothing else seemed too plausible. She had said Harry had a condition labeled Conversion Disorder and was most likely brought on by trauma. Harry knew what the sudden trauma had been, it was obvious to Dumbledore as well and the Headmaster had seemed shaken by what had happened to Harry.

Harry looked at the man and screwed up his face slightly as he started to scribble something on the pad. Snape was looking down with exasperation and he rolled his eyes but suddenly shot a look at the paper pad that was thrust towards his face. It read in an untidy scrawl:

_I'm not faking but whatever you want to try, go ahead sir._

Harry let the pad fall to his bed and he found that he was glaring at Snape. He knew what the Professor thought, of course Snape would think he would be doing this for attention, it was more than obvious, it was practically radiating off the man. He was reminded of how much Snape had provoked him, provoked Sirius but suddenly his thoughts strayed as he looked at the pen in his hand. He remembered the fury in Snape's eyes when he was surfaced from the Pensieve. He recollected seeing his father tormenting the teenage Snape and suddenly thought once more of how much that memory had bothered him.

"Potter!_ For goodness sake, pay attention!" _

Harry's attention swam up to the surface as if he was able to breathe again and he snapped his eyes to look up at Snape's narrowed eyes. He looked quite livid because of Harry's inability to hold his concentration for more than a minute.

"You're no better in class, always dazed and confused, no wonder you can't put together a simple potion correctly."

Harry sighed but all the noise it made was his soft breath leaving his lips. He had no room in his emotions to care for Snape's ranting about how incompetent he was. He scribbled something again on the pad and held it out a bit more gentle this time. Snape seemed to be on his last nerve as he read the neater line:

_Sorry._

"Right…Mr. Potter, this," Snape pulled out a small red bottle with a glass stopper from his coat pocket, "should find your voice relatively easily for you."

Harry's eyes shimmered as they fell upon the small bottle. So Snape had brewed a potion to help him with his situation, how suitable. Even though Harry was desperate to have his voice back he took up his pen and scribbled quickly on the paper pad. Holding it up once again, Snape's jaw clenched as he read:

_What is it? What exactly is it supposed to do?_

Snape grabbed the pad out of Harry's hand and smacked it down upon the bedside table.

"Just take it Mr. Potter! For once in your life do as you are told," Snape snapped at him. He had clenched his fists as Professor Snape held out the bottle swiftly for Harry to take it.

Harry snatched the thing from the Potions Master's hand and popped it open and downed the contents. His eyes squeezed shut as his tongue registered the fowl tasting liquid. It was bitter, very bitter.

At once his throat began to itch uncomfortably and he started to cough. He felt a pressure in the back of his throat that he could not describe and the familiar strain built up in his throat muscles. His lips began to move numbingly, forcibly and he could not for the life of him settle himself. He couldn't calm the pressure in his throat or jaw. It was painful and tears sprung up to his eyes.

_Stop! Stop! _Harry thought over and over because the pain kept growing.

"What is your name?" Snape had just been standing there watching Harry's silent struggling as his hands were rubbing his throat.

Harry did not answer.

"I said tell me your name!" Snape pressured and Harry looked up at him, hunched over, hands on his throat, cheeks ablaze with red, eyes tearful.

Harry was shaking all over, it felt as if he was choking and he couldn't breathe until finally, finally he gasped silently and the pressure went away, the burning ebbed into a faint itching and his throat muscles and mouth stopped forcing themselves to form inaudible words. Harry felt faint as he was taking in shallow breaths, his hands fisted into the white sheets of the bed. His face burned, his head ached, his eyes felt like they would pop out of his skull at any second. It was the unbearable truth again, the resistance that he could not break. He kept swallowing and his mouth was utterly dry. He grabbed the half full glass of water on his bedside table and drank it down.

Snape all the while hadn't said anything and he looked at Harry with a somewhat confused glare in his dark eyes. Harry's tired eyes looked up and he weakly took the pen and paper and with a shaking hand wrote something.

Snape read the simple line and his lips tightened:

_I wasn't lying._

Harry's eyes fell upon the outline of the scar on his left hand.

_I must not tell lies._

He suddenly wanted Snape to leave, to get lost , god how he wished he never had to lay eyes upon this man ever again. When Snape spoke his voice was as velvety as ever.

"I have nothing else to speak to you about concerning your…_condition._ If that potion did not force your words out then…I can think of nothing more that I can do for you, Mr. Potter."

Harry watched as the man turned on his heel and left rather quickly from the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey came to him moments later with a pain reducer potion and it quelled his throbbing head ache.

"Mr. Potter, you really need to eat," she had said looking at his untouched meal on the tray. Harry didn't bother to reply and she left him, sighing. Harry thought he might of felt hungry but it was useless to move it seemed as he lay on his side again with his glasses off. It was good that things were blurred. He wished his emotions, his ability to feel would blur away into nothing.

* * *

Word had spread around the castle that Harry Potter couldn't speak and once again Harry felt the many stares of students as he walked down the corridors. Harry was let go from the Hospital Wing a day later, Dumbledore had left him his wand and a message saying that whilst his stay at the Dursleys and if he were to stay with the Weasleys' this summer there would be someone to take him to special therapy meetings at St. Mungo's once every two weeks. Harry's stomach had quelled at the thought of having to go to therapy sessions but he was still desperate to get his voice back.

It was very strange to stand in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady feeling like he wanted to burn the portrait to ashes. He didn't even know the password let alone could he speak it out loud. Harry wore his Gryffindor cardigan over his white collared uniform shirt and tie with his black slacks and school shoes. He had his robe over his arm which held his paper pad and pen.

"Harry!"

He turned to see Hermione and Ron hurrying over to him. He wondered if they had just finished breakfast since it was about 9:30 in the morning.

"We thought you'd have gone to breakfast, mate," Ron said to him and Harry shook his head already used to the simple gestures.

It was a crashing awkwardness to stand there before them. Ron had gotten taller over the year and Hermione had grown somewhat as well in more than just height and Harry couldn't believe that he was still the same height of five feet five inches. He gestured to the portrait annoyingly feeling the sudden anger again but he tried to fan the flames by counting to ten in his head.

"Oh! Sorry, Fiddlestouts," Hermione said almost too loudly.

The portrait swung open and the three clambered inside. The common room was empty and Harry supposed everyone was enjoying the nice weather outside like it had always been at the end of the year especially since Dumbledore was back and exams were over. Harry however felt the least bit stress free.

"How…are you feeling?" Hermione had asked it ever so slowly and Harry felt the need to glare at her which he refrained from.

How was he feeling? Harry had known Hermione to never ask stupid questions but this, this was unnerving and he started to move his lips and grimaced. He grabbed the tablet out of his robe's pocket as well as his pen and fumbled with them for a second growing frustrated and he plopped down on the couch and hurryingly wrote his reply and Hermione and Ron both read:

_Brilliant seeing as how there's no cure for this and I have to see a bloody therapist at St. Mungo's over the summer and go back to the Dursley's tomorrow.._

At once Harry felt bad at what he had written when Hermione looked as if she was about to burst into tears and Ron's features saddened. He quickly added:

_I'm sorry, it's just I don't know what to do, Snape thought I was faking! And..I feel so lost right now.._

Harry's hands were shaking softly and he hated how they never stopped doing that and he wrote more:

_I'm really sorry for dragging you to the Department of Mysteries… _Harry had to take in a shaking breath. _I was so stupid for not believing you, Hermione._

And there were tears in Hermione's eyes and she sat by him and grabbed his hand and Harry couldn't stop himself from wincing.

"It's not your fault-" she had started to say but Harry swiped his hand away harshly and stood up so fast his head spun. He really needed to eat something. Harry scribbled something on the pad.

_Have to pack see you later. _

"Just leave it for the morning mate, come outside…"

Harry shook his head almost twitchingly and grabbed his things and hurried off to the boy's dormitories and he ignored Hermione's and Ron's callings after him.

* * *

His trunk lay open and he was looking at it without really looking at it. He picked up the badly wrapped present softly and unwrapped it even more slowly than he had wanted. It was a mirror, a small, square mirror. Harry's own reflection stared back at him and he brushed down the hair he always had to cover his scar without even thinking about it. Turning the mirror over he noticed there was a note from his godfather. He stopped breathing as he read:

"_This is a two-way mirror, I've got the other. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions."_

He sat there for the longest time upon his four poster bed. His heart had been racing and now as the hot tears were being born again he wished once more that he had followed his godfather.

_"Just say my name into it…"_

Harry read the line over and over. His lips moved over and over.

_Sirius…Sirius…SIRIUS BLACK!_

Harry's left hand clenched the edge of the bed as his right still held the small mirror with him. His tears dropped to the floor like a slow starting rainfall and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

The mirror wouldn't work of course because Sirius was dead. He didn't have the mirror with him when he went through the archway. Harry's eyes widened as another thought sprung into his head and he felt sickened by it:

_If…I had just opened it…if I had just…opened his present…Oh _God…

Harry hunched over and tried to scream in agony as his heart felt like it was splitting, actually tearing apart within himself. The pain was fresh and new and his face was reddening as he cried and cried finally since he had watched Sirius die and the strong hands of Lupin had come around him to stop him from following.

_I thought…I was protecting him by not…opening it! _

He was angry again and the shudders of the wracking tears ceased and he chucked the damned thing into his trunk where it broke into glittering pieces. The dirtied stains upon the broken shards seem to jump out at Harry and he sunk to the floor. His Gryffindor scarf slid from his bed onto his leg slowly.

_Where did you go, Sirius?_

* * *

His feet were moving in front of him but he really didn't know where he was going. He had finished packing, more like stuffing his things into his trunk and forcing it closed by sitting on it, and had left Gryffindor Tower feeling worse off than ever before. His legs felt heavy and he felt tired. He could remember thinking of why he left his dormitory: to visit Hagrid. He had his paper pad and pen in his trouser's back pocket. He knew it was quite warm outside judging by the lack of sweaters and vests other students didn't have on but Harry felt cold and his cardigan didn't seem to be giving him any warmth.

Harry almost slipped as his right foot didn't hit the ground but the beginning of the marble staircase to the entrance hall. He frowned as he saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle coming through the door from the right of the staircase that Harry knew led to the Slytherin common room. Harry didn't stop as he slowly brushed the hard marble railing with his right hand and descended the staircase; his expression blank. He heard the shouts and laughter floating in from the grounds through the open grand doors of the castle. Once Malfoy had spotted him he stopped dead in his tracks and began to look around. Harry rolled his eyes; of course the blond ferret boy would be looking around for teachers.

Harry reached the bottom of the staircase, hopping off the last step. He began to walk past the three Slytherins but Malfoy moved to stand in front of him. Again Harry felt the searing embarrassment of his lack of height. Malfoy had a whole head on him now.

"You're dead, Potter," Malfoy spat.

Harry stood there feeling the warm June breeze upon his skin and a shiver went up his spine.

"Oh that's right, word is you can't say a damned thing Potter, what's the matter?" Malfoy's low tone was starting to annoy Harry. "Not such a big man now, are you Potter? You're going to pay for what you've done to my father."

Harry grabbed his pad of paper and pen out and was almost amused at the sudden confused expression on the boy's face. He wrote in big letters and shoved the pad of paper before Malfoy's face and his gray eyes read the simple statement:

_FUCK off Ferret Boy._

Malfoy's hand flew to his wand but Harry had drawn his own wand before Malfoy's fingers made it to the pocket of his trousers. The speed of it was unnatural, instinctive. However, Harry's mind fell blank since he could not speak even if he knew a few nonverbal defensive spells his brain seized up and Malfoy smiled wickedly at this, took out his own wand and then:

"Potter!"

Of course Snape would show up. He was walking down the marble staircase, black robes catching the wind like always. The anger rose in Harry's chest again and he found himself blaming Snape once more, he just couldn't not blame Snape…

"What are you doing, Potter?" Snape asked with that cold voice Harry was so used to.

Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he had already dropped his hand that held his wand and so had Malfoy.

_Like I can say anything you sodding git…_

Snape just stared at him.

"Put that wand away at once, ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said.

Harry couldn't help but watch as the rubies flew up from the meek pile that McGonagall had given Harry and his friends for their efforts in the Department of Mysteries. Harry bent down to pick up his pad of paper as he put away his wand but Snape and suddenly snatched it from the ground. Harry glared at the man as he read the message to Malfoy.

"I believe you should be enjoying the good weather Mr. Malfoy," Snape said suddenly.

"Yes sir," Malfoy replied and before the three took off outside he gave Harry a quick menacing glance.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor for this, Mr. Potter," Snape smirked as he handed Harry back his notepad and Harry took it quickly, he couldn't help the burning in his cheeks.

It was different not being able to talk back to Snape or even take a bite at Malfoy's remarks. It made Harry frustrated and it left him feeling empty. Snape was looking at him still and Harry thought he should take his leave now but his eyes found the black pools somehow and his legs didn't want to obey him. And Harry thought once again of what happened in Snape's office with the Pensieve and a jolt hit his heart and his mind wandered off remembering things he would rather forget.

"And once again the Golden Boy is spacing out," came Snape's drone and Harry almost dizzyingly turned around and headed out the front doors with a blank expression leaving Snape standing there.

* * *

Harry tried to heave Fang off of him as he lay on the cool earth before Hagrid's hut.

"Fang! Yeh' ruddy thing! Off!" Hagrid called after the dog.

Hagrid had helped Harry to his feat almost knocking him down once again with trying to brush off the dirt from Harry's back. Harry wiped away the drool that Fang had left on his face.

Once inside Harry found some sort of comfort in sitting down at Hagrid's wooden table; he absent mindedly brought out his notepad and pen.

Hagrid had served them both big cups of pumpkin juice with ice.

The awkward silence rose again and Harry felt irritated.

"So, ah, you feelin' all righ'…well…you know…"

Harry knew Hagrid was trying and he thought now that maybe he should have stayed in his dormitory. Harry suddenly opened his mouth to try once more to say something but stopped when nothing came and he took the pad and pen and wrote neatly:

_I'm fine. Where did you go?_

Hagrid read the small note and answered hurryingly:

"Hidin' out in the mountains," Hagrid gave him a small smile. "Up in a cave, like Sirius did when he-"

Harry's eyes fell onto his untouched glass and he watched a small droplet of water slide down to the table.

Harry scribbled something quickly and Hagrid read it hastily as if to get them back on a better conversation.

_How's Grawp?_

"Loads better behaved now," Hagrid was speaking fast. "He seemed right pleased ter see me when I got back, ter tell yeh the truth…"

Harry felt all too trapped sitting with his legs dangling slightly on the large chair.

He grabbed up the pen and scribbled something once more:

_I need to go, I should pack my things…see you at the feast, bye._

Harry didn't hear Hagrid reply because he was out the man's door so fast he was almost running. People called out to him as he made his way to the grounds by the black lake and he heard their whispers and mutterings about what had happened to him. He wanted to shout at them, to tell them to shut up and leave him alone but now that they knew the truth, the news plastered on every _Daily Prophet_, they wanted to talk to him instead of isolating him. Harry however was the one doing the isolating now and as he made his way to the castle he kept thinking about the prophecy. He was the Chosen One, the marked one and he felt no comfort in the walls of Hogwarts.

* * *

Harry once again had not been paying attention to where his feet were taking him and he was startled somewhat when he lifted his head to see the shining plate of blond hair that belonged to the one and only Luna Lovegood. She was in the corridor where the Fat Lady's portrait hung tacking up a notice to the wall.

"Hello Harry Potter," she said distantly.

Harry couldn't help it. The corners of his mouth turned up and he was smiling somewhat at her as she turned to face him. Harry held up a hand and waved it somewhat to gesture his hello. Luna Lovegood seemed to have a way over him, a way about her that made Harry feel better because she was real and always honest.

Harry took out his pad of paper and wrote something and showed it to Luna who smiled softly as she read his message:

_What are you doing?_

She handed him one of the notes and Harry realized it was a list of things that belonged to Luna. They were missing and she was pleading for their return. Harry's eyes saddened at this and he wrote on his notepad and handed it to Luna who smiled again at his gesture.

_Why do people hide your things? _

"Oh, well," Luna turned her head slightly and Harry smiled somewhat at her radish earrings. "I suppose people think I'm a bit odd, you know."

Harry wrote again and handed her the pad.

_That's no reason for them to hide your things. I'll help you look for them if you want. _

"Oh no, that's alright," she was smiling. "They'll find their way back to me; they always do in the end. Are you going to the feast?"

Harry took the notepad back and thought for a moment and realized he was starving; his stomach ached from the emptiness. He nodded and wrote down on the paper:

_Do you want to go together?_

Luna didn't say anything but mimicked Harry's nod and the two set off toward the Great Hall.

"That man, he was your godfather, wasn't he? Ginny told me…"

Harry nodded as they walked and was surprised that he really didn't have a problem with hearing about Sirius from her.

"I'm sorry," she said simply but with a kindness that Harry admired.

Harry shook his head somewhat.

They were before the Great Hall's doors now and Harry could hear the bustling chatter within and he grew nervous all of a sudden. Would Dumbledore mention him? Mention what had happened in the Department of Mysteries?

"It'll be ok," Luna said and Harry looked at her and he was surprised that he could smile with her and with that they entered the Great Hall and Harry was willing himself to try to feel something other than such deep regret and sadness. Even as he avoided the stares and heard the whispers he sat down next to Hermione and Ron who smiled at him. Harry knew that ever so slowly he would start to feel okay again.

* * *

**Well that was the Prologue, I'm not too familiar with how everything works here but I hope someone likes the beginning, I have many ideas for the rest of the story but I hope someone wants me to continue it. Thank you very much for your time. : )**


	2. Chapter 1: The Boy Who Was Silent

**Chapter 1: The Boy Who Was Silent**

Harry Potter lay asleep in his bed like he had been doing for most of the start of his summer. He was small for his age of 15. His short dark brown hair was a mess on top of his head as he hadn't bothered to comb it even after showering. He had barely unpacked his Hogwarts trunk as it lay on the floor of his small room. The window was open and the soft summer breeze was floating through. A small alarm clock beeped as it was 3:00PM in the afternoon.

The room was quite tidy as Harry had been forced to clean it by his Aunt Petunia as soon as he got back to Number 4 Privet Drive. It had been almost comical to be picked up by Uncle Vernon at Kings Cross Station with a note for both his Uncle and Aunt to read. He felt like a child being sent home with a note pinned to his shirt saying what he was in trouble for but no, this note was neatly placed in a Hogwarts sealed envelope written by Albus Dumbledore explaining to the Durselys of Harry's _condition._

Harry Potter had lost his ability to speak, it had been like this for almost two weeks now and he began to fear that his voice might never come back. He had experienced a very traumatic event in which he had seen his godfather killed. It seemed to be the cause of Harry's muteness. The pad of paper he had had finished quickly since Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had kept asking him questions and kept ordering him about the first few days of his summer break and he had enough of it and started to keep to his room and only leave it to use the toilet or to shower or to get something to eat.

Harry had fallen quickly into a depressed state once he had gotten off the Hogwarts Express and it didn't help that every night he had violent, reoccurring nightmares featuring Voldemort of course and Sirius, sometimes Cedric Diggory in the graveyard. He sometimes had silly dreams of Cho Chang crying her eyes out in front of him and Harry would try to make her stop but no words could leave his lips and Cho would grow more upset screaming at him to say something to her and he even had a weird dream involving Professor Snape where the man kept repeating "There's nothing more I can do for you, Potter."

He was shocked when Aunt Petunia had gotten him more notepads one day when Uncle Vernon was at work. Harry had actually scribbled _Thank you _on one of them and showed it to her but she just pursed her lips like always and left him alone in his room. Uncle Vernon had acted just the way Harry had expected when he read the letter: angry, annoyed, and confused and that's when the questioning began. He supposed he was angry because Harry was even more of a freak to his eyes now.

Harry jerked suddenly in his sleep because of the sound of the pounding on his door.

"Wake up you lazy boy! You will get downstairs immediately and do the chores your aunt needs helping with! Wake up, NOW!"

Harry's eyes fluttered opened. He didn't even remember falling asleep. He lifted himself slowly to a sitting position. He stretched, his blue shirt rising slowly to reveal the skinniness of him. He got to his feet that wore white socks below his light blue jeans and slipped on his gray trainers. He looked at Hedwig's cage which was empty and wondered where she had gone since the bird normally went hunting at night.

He straightened his glasses and headed out of his room to do more of his aunt's bidding: more or less yard work or washing the car.

It had been yard work she'd wanted doing and now Harry kneeled in the earth with his hands and face already dirty and sweaty with the heat of the sun burning his bare skin on his neck and the back of his arms. He wished he could hum as he weeded the garden and planted new flowers and packed them with rich soil. It was awfully quiet. Uncle Vernon had gone somewhere with his cousin Dudley who had been avoiding him the past few days as if his muteness was contagious. He listened hard and he could hear the news on the television. He heard nothing of killings or accidents or strange weather patterns or tragedies besides a mugging here and there or car accident.

Harry found that garden work took his mind of most things, most things being Sirius. Summers like this one made it faintly hard to believe that Harry was a wizard and went to school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was troubling for Harry as the days had gone by because he had a knack now for spacing out and would painfully be knocked out of his trance by a smack upside his head from his Uncle Vernon. Dudley would snicker until Harry would glare at the boy who was much bigger than Harry.

When Harry was done he washed his hands and face using the hose and took a long drink, he even let the hose water run over his head wetting his short hair. Turning the hose off Harry decided to go for a walk. The park he had always gone to wasn't too far away from the Dursleys and if it was a problem he was sure one of the Order members would stop him. Honestly, Harry really didn't care at the moment if what he was doing was right or wrong. He was just tired of his room, those same four walls were driving him insane and he needed to stretch his legs.

Harry quickly hopped on a swing when he arrived at the park and sat down, starting to swing slowly and then gaining momentum and his pace quickened and the chains squeaked softly. Harry closed his eyes and he found the fluttering in his stomach something nice to feel. This was relaxing; the back and forth rhythm and the cooling breeze as the afternoon was ebbing away into the evening. The park was empty and he started to swing higher, finding a moment in his mind where he could believe he wasn't Harry Potter; rather just a boy, a boy without a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, hell, he didn't care if he knew magic or not, if he was a wizard or not, he touched at the small possibility that he could be someone else, he thought he would give anything for it actually.

He felt a lurching feeling suddenly as he had swung too high with his eyes closed and had lost his equilibrium. Harry suddenly let go of the swing's chains and fell hard onto the sand and dirt. It knocked the wind from him and he coughed but smiled slightly at his foolishness. It was pretty stupid. He wondered if anyone had seen him?

But Harry lay there for a long time under the slightly moving swinging seat ignoring the pain in his back and head and right elbow. He thought about his voice, he could remember what it sounded like to his ears. Soft yet strong, a little high pitched when he pronounced some words or the way he said them. It was strange and he looked up at the patches of clouds smearing into the darkening sky for the sun was setting; it was strange because he lay there trying to say something, anything and he couldn't like God had silenced him somehow, for some reason or maybe Voldemort had and no one had figured it out yet that was why he could not speak; he shuddered as he remembered what it felt like when Voldemort had tried to possess him. It was the thought of Sirius that saved him and Harry got up to his feet suddenly so he could ignore the memories that threatened to resurface.

He shivered because he felt cold and wished he had brought his jumper. Harry didn't want to go back to that all too clean house; he wanted to see the Weasley's house, feeling the warmth there and how homey it was and that thought left him thinking of another house; Grimmauld Place. Was the house empty now like Harry's stomach or was it still headquarters to the Order? Harry had no idea. He walked gingerly back to the Dursleys.

When Harry entered his bedroom he had not expected Hedwig to hoot at him loudly and too see the tiny stack of envelopes on his small desk. Harry hurried over to them and pet Hedwig softly and she hooted approvingly and was off again as it was dark now. Harry looked at the letters and there were 3 of them. Harry opened the one from Ronald Weasley first and read in Ron's familiar big scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_ Hey mate, just thought I'd write to you and ask how everything is going. Mum's been fussing to have you sent here soon. She's been a little more than upset when Dumbledore told her what's happened, well you know, with your condition and everything. I hope you'll be over soon, it's pretty boring here now that Fred and George have started their new business in Diagon Alley. Oh, but I guess that's news to you but yeah, their business is booming, I hope we can see what their shop is all about, maybe when we have to get our school shopping done. Hermione keeps writing to me that she's worried she won't get as many O.W.L.s as she's hoping to get. Like she has anything to worry about? Well, I guess I will end it here and I'll write again soon, hope you are doing well._

_ Ron_

Harry put down the letter and opened Hermione's and smiled softly at her familiar neat and tidy handwriting:

_Dear Harry,_

_ I really do hope you are doing well. Please write back soon so I know if your condition is the same, I've read about Conversion Disorders and they say they can last between a few days or a few weeks but no one really knows how to properly cure them. I've also read that relief from stress can help as well as therapy. So, have you had your first therapy session yet? _

_ I'm worried about the O.W.L results; I just wish they would get here already, don't you? I hope you will write back soon telling me how you are and if you need anything like last summer don't hesitate to ask! I hope to see you soon._

_ Sincerely, _

_ Hermione_

Harry was trying to go over his replies in his head when he picked up the letter that had the Hogwarts seal upon it. He tore it off and pulled out the small letter, it was more of a note than anything, written in Dumbledore's writing:

_Dear Harry, _

_ This note is to inform you that someone from the Order will be picking you up at 11 o'clock sharp tomorrow morning to take you to your first therapy session at St. Mungo's Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries. Do be prompt and ready at this time. Hoping you are well. _

_ Yours Sincerely, _

_ Albus Dumbledore_

_ Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry felt cold again and a strange nervousness gripped his stomach as he reread the small letter twice more. He sat down on his bed and toed off his shoes. He didn't feel much like writing back to his friends at the moment. He managed to remember to set the alarm clock before he lay down and in moments he was fast asleep but no dreams had haunted him that night.

* * *

Blue eyes snapped open at the loud sound of his alarm clock and panicking hands gripped at the desk where the small clock was until it was knocked over and the boy on the bed had went falling with it.

Harry couldn't believe he had fallen out of bed and he couldn't believe it wasn't the first time he had done such a thing. Harry cursed in his head that his bed was too small as he got to his feet. His knee stung. He expected Uncle Vernon to come crashing through his door complaining about the loud noise but as he waited nothing happened. He looked at the time: 9:00 AM. Harry waited for another moment and then remembered why he had bothered to set an alarm. Harry's first therapy session was today and he was nervous all over again. His stomach felt sick but he thought that might be because he was so very hungry. He would have to eat something this morning. Harry quickly found himself some other clothes: a green shirt with a gray jumper and dark blue jeans. He quickly showered and dressed. He finally combed his hair which looked alright, the light brush of bangs over his forehead. He brushed his teeth and cleaned his glasses. He put on socks and his gray trainers. He took one last glance in the mirror and patted his somewhat wet hair with the towel so it wouldn't get droplets of water on him.

Finally satisfied he grabbed his wand, the note from Dumbledore, and almost forgetting his notepad and pen, he headed downstairs. He sat down at the table and scribbled a hurried note and as Uncle Vernon came into the kitchen he hesitated but then got up and handed him the note.

"What is this, boy?" Uncle Vernon snapped and he grabbed the piece of notepad paper. "Get me my coffee."

Harry quickly went over to the silver coffee maker and poured his uncle a mug of the dark drink. Harry's note had read:

_One of my teachers from school is going to pick me up at 11am to take me to a therapy session that might help me get my voice back._

"One of your kind is coming here, boy!" Vernon shouted. "Into my home? I will not have another escapade like the summer with our fireplace!"

Harry shook his head quickly knowing most likely he would Apparate with whomever was to pick him up to take him to St. Mungo's.

"There had better not be anything like before, boy, you hear me!" his Uncle shouted and gripped Harry's shoulder tightly enough to make Harry wince. Harry nodded and his Uncle let go and sat down at the table and drank his coffee and read the morning paper.

Harry had a small bowl of cornflakes as he waited anxiously for 11am to arrive. He figured that his aunt and cousin had gone shopping. Waiting for what seemed like an eternity with his uncle glaring at him every five minutes Harry almost jumped as the door bell rang. Harry got up to answer it but Uncle Vernon with alarming speed for a man his size made it to the door before Harry and with Harry behind him trying to get to the door first he was surprised at who was waiting behind it when Vernon swung it open: it was Severus Snape.

Harry practically gawked at the man as he stood there in muggle attire no less: A white collared dress shirt with a black overcoat over black slacks and black dress shoes.

_Not that much of a difference._

Harry also noticed that Snape's hair wasn't greasy but rather like he had washed it which made Harry grimace somewhat. Snape stood there with his back straight as a board looking down at Harry or rather his head as he had come under his uncle's arm. Snape had worn his own grimace at the sight of the muggle man before him and his large size.

"Mr. Potter, I am sure you realize why I am here," the professor's voice said suddenly.

"You're here to take this runt to someone who can fix him!" Vernon had found his voice finally as the sight of the man had him wondering what kind of teacher was he. Harry felt the large hand of his uncle come to his back and push him harshly forward out of the front door. Harry would have collided with Snape if the man hadn't stepped aside quickly. Harry tripped forward but got his balance and turned around as the door shut in his face.

"Charming relatives, Potter," was all Snape said as he held his hands behind his back. "Come, we must be outside the gate to Apparate."

Harry quickly got out his pad of paper and pen and Snape stopped walking forward and he looked annoyingly at Harry. Harry showed him what he had written:

_I've never apparated before? _

_ You are the one who has to take me to St. Mungo's? Didn't anyone else want the job?_

Snape looked at him sharply and looked over Harry's own muggle attire.

"I assure you Mr. Potter, I did not want this job, the headmaster asked me personally to be the one to take you to and from St. Mungo's once every two weeks. Others wanted the job of course, _however_, Professor Dumbledore saw it fit to make me the lucky one who has to deal with your notepad messages which look like they have been written by a five year old," Snape's voice was slightly harsh but controlled like always and Harry glared at the man. He pointed to what he had first written down on the paper.

But Snape ignored him and walked across the path and out of the front gate. Harry quickly followed. Snape took out his wand and murmured something that Harry couldn't make out.

"Take my arm, Mr. Potter and hold on tightly, we don't want you getting splinched now do we?" the professor said and held out his right arm and Harry hesitated but without glancing at the man he gripped his forearm and then felt like he was being tightly compressed into a small ball and he couldn't breathe and he saw flashes of images he could not make out. It wasn't as bad Flooing however Harry had thought suddenly as he realized his hand was clutching the Potions Master's arm all too tightly.

* * *

It was strange lying on the hard metal table wearing the white hospital gown and nothing else. Harry squirmed again and heard the crinkling of the white paper beneath his body. His heart was pounding in his ears. The room he was in was nothing but white and brightly lit with many things on table tops Harry had never seen before but then again he had never actually been a patient at St. Mungo's.

Coming to the hospital once again only made Harry think of one thing: Neville and his parents. When he had seen Neville's mother give him the gum wrapper Harry almost couldn't take it. But now Harry was worried as he lied down as still as he could be. He was waiting for the doctor (Harry had not known what else to call a wizard doctor) but he was alone in the room, Snape had let him go on alone when they had checked in and Harry wondered fleetingly how long this was going to take and what Snape would do to pass the time. This must being annoying to the man and Harry smiled slightly at that thought.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," a male voice greeted and a tall, skinny man entered the room wearing lime-green robes. "I am Healer Price; I will be examining you today to clear you for psychotherapy, alright there Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded barely. His feet were very cold as were his legs and arms. Were all hospitals cold? The examination went quick. The Healer had done much of what Madame Pomfrey had done with her wand but this time the Healer named Price had listened to Harry's heart and checked his throat and tonsils and asked him yes or no questions revolving around where he was in pain and if this or that had any pain. Besides the minor scrapes and bruising Harry had obtained because he was somewhat clumsy unless he was on a broom the Healer only said one thing to Harry before he was left to put his clothes back on.

"You are malnourished, Mr. Potter, you need to eat at least three healthy meals a day but for now you will need some vitamin replenishing potions and one for anemia," the Healer was making some notes with his quill on his clipboard."You can pick them up when your session is over with your therapist. You need to head straight down the hall and it will be the last door on your left. Have a good day Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded weakly but could not smile. He dressed quickly, shivering somewhat and headed out of the bright room and into the even brighter white hallway. He walked slowly and he finally reached the simple white door and opened it with the twist of the silver knob.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, I see your examination is done," it was a woman who spoke to him. She was sitting in an office like room with a long black modern looking couch with a glass coffee table before it. There were potted plants here and there and the tall woman with long brown wavy hair sat in a desk chair behind her large wooden desk. For some reason Harry was almost expecting to see a computer on the desk but there was only a stack of files in red coated binders and a few letters strewn about and a few quills in different colored ink pots. She was dressed in light black robes. She looked quite young as her rosy lips sipped tea from her mug. "Well come in Mr. Potter, I don't bite."

Harry blushed as he entered the room slowly. The floor had gray carpeting and large windows were behind the woman and the sunlight was so bright that Harry had to squint. The curtains were drawn letting the brightness of the daylight engulf them. Harry noticed the large blackboard set up by the wall with bits of chalk here and there and an eraser upon its stand.

"Please, sit down on the couch," the woman's eyes were a dark green and she still held her pink mug and Harry noticed her pedicured red gleaming nails. "You can call me Ms. Gardiner, I'm much like what muggles would call a therapist but therapy is my job, psychotherapy." She held out her hand to Harry that was bigger than Harry's own and he shook it nervously.

"How old are you Mr. Potter?" she asked as Harry sat on the somewhat squishy black sofa.

Harry got out his notepad and pen and the woman watched his every move. He quickly held out the answer to her.

"Fifteen? That's quite young. Professor Dumbledore has told me a lot about you, and about your sudden condition," her voice was kind and soft as were her eyes as they stared at him.

Harry nodded because he didn't really know what else to do.

"Now, Mr. Potter," she began but stopped when Harry hastily wrote something down on his pad and held it out to her.

_Just Harry if you don't mind. _

"Harry," she smiled at him. She moved her office chair so that she now sat in front of him, only the coffee table between them and she set down her mug gently. "In these sessions I will be trying to aid you in getting your voice back, Conversion Disorders are not that common, especially in our world so forgive me if you are sort of a new case to me."

Harry wrote something down fast and held it out in front of her and she read it with a small smile upon her face.

_You've never had someone like me or anything like this before?_

"I'm afraid not, Harry, my normal clientele are mostly people who have suffered a traumatic experience and need to work out their problems to live normal, healthy lives, but no Harry, I have never had someone come here who had lost the ability to speak or something similar to that, like I said, your case is rare," she finished and she watched Harry clumsily write something and it was obvious that he was nervous.

Harry's heart had begun to pound once more in a panicked state.

_How can you help me if you've never dealt with someone with a case like mine?_

He had adopted her view of it saying that he was now a case factor like in some mystery drama Aunt Petunia always watched.

"Well Harry, you see, there are simple steps to dealing with trauma patients and that is what you are if I may be blunt about it so I know how I should go about handling your situation," she answered and she was still smiling softly at him. "Are you willing to try these steps with me, Harry? Because you do have the right to not even be here, I'm sure you know that, you do not have to force yourself to get better."

Harry understood what the woman was telling him and he wrote down his reply somewhat slowly.

_I know, but I want my voice back, I don't know how else I will get it back besides this.._

"Right then, so let's begin, I know you have recently lost a loved one, Professor Dumbledore has this in your file," she was now standing over her desk grabbing a pen and clipboard as well as a thin red file folder. She sat back down with them and placed the folder on the table. "This would be the trauma you experienced; I know that you watched this loved one pass away, correct?"

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and he couldn't help the feeling of dread taking over him. He knew the woman couldn't know much about the situation being that it involved Sirius Black but none-the-less Harry wrote down his reply:

_Yes, about two weeks ago._

"Right, and when exactly did you lose your voice?"

Harry thought for a moment which was painful because he was remembering chasing Bellatrix Lestrange, remembering the hatred in his heart and the pain that was crushing him, he remembered using the Cruciatus Curse on her, he remembered when Voldemort had turned up…

He shut his eyes tightly and then opened them and wrote slowly:

_After You Know Who tried to possess me in the Ministry of Magic atrium…_

Harry knew that she would have of course read all about what happened in the Ministry of Magic where the Minister himself witnessed Voldemort standing there and had finally believed Harry.

"He tried to possess you?"

Harry nodded, wondering just how much he was allowed to tell her.

"Harry, I am only allowed to tell two people what happens in this room, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape, alright? It's a binding contract so it cannot be broken," she reassured him.

Harry wrote down his reply:

_I understand..He was inside me for a while but…I thought of my godfather who had just died.._

And Harry's hands began to shake once more, the soft tremors following all the way up his neck and he tried to calm himself.

"You don't have to tell me, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said gently noticing his state.

However, Harry kept writing:

_I thought that I was going to die, I wanted to die because then I would be able to see him again because he was.._

Harry couldn't stop the burning in his eyes and he had to stop, he dropped the pen and sat up straighter, trying to take in deep breaths.

"It's alright Harry; it's hard to talk about these things, you're being so brave to already be able to admit these things…"

Harry looked up at her.

_Admit? _He thought._ I haven't admitted anything…I can't admit that I'm the reason that Sirius died…I can't say it…I want to say it, I want to scream it to anyone…_

It was tearing him apart inside but he couldn't write it down, he couldn't do that just yet.

"Harry, I want you to listen very carefully to these instructions," Ms. Gardiner said. "These will help you relieve stress that may be preventing your voice to work, that's causing your lack of speech. When the body builds up too much stress it can react in ways that some people would call: an involuntary defense mechanism. In your case your body has given up its ability to speak and I know when you try to speak it's as if you are battling with yourself, trying to force yourself to do something your body has shut down at the present time."

Harry nodded because he sort of understood what she was saying.

"You have a conflict raging inside yourself, Harry and what I am trying to do is to find the thing that will solve it, it may be very simple or it might take some time to help you, do you understand?"

Harry nodded slowly and he realized his hands were clenching at his jeans.

"Harry, I want you to write down some things for me, ok? I want you to list any…" she paused as she was trying to think of the word, "abnormal behavior that you may be experiencing, perhaps things you are doing that you don't normally do, can you do that for me Harry?"

Harry thought for a moment but he began to write a few things down.

_-I space out a lot. I can't really concentrate on anything._

_ -I don't have much of an appetite. _

_ -I get mad easily. _

_ -I sleep a lot; it's hard to want to do more than just sleep all day._

_ -I feel alone because I can't talk to people._

_ -I keep having the same nightmare._

_ -I always feel tired._

Ms. Gardiner read the small list and nodded her head as if these things Harry had written down were obvious.

"These are normal symptoms of trauma victims and depression," she said as she was writing things on her clipboard. When she took out her wand Harry was almost surprised; it was something indeed because he had forgotten that the woman sitting in front of him was a witch. She tapped her clipboard with her wand and a piece of paper appeared. "I am prescribing something that will give you a bit more energy and make your head a bit clearer so you can be attentive to things and Dreamless Sleep but only for a few nights because it's addictive, take this to the remedy ward and they will give you what you need."

Harry wrote down quickly:

_Thank you. _

"I'm going to owl Professor Dumbledore and ask him if it's ok to see you more than once every two weeks, I'm thinking more of once a week from now on, I'm sure he will owl you with the schedule of the dates you are to come here," she said. "Now when you leave here I want you to practice some techniques for me that will relax you. Meditation is important, maybe take a few minutes out of your day to sit down and collect your thoughts; it's the process of healing. You need to find an inner balance. Also, I want you to try to do a few things you wouldn't normally do, something that could surprise your subconscious, sometimes that's all it takes for trauma victims to begin their recovery."

Harry wrote down a question quickly:

_What do you mean?_

"Well, most people have a normal routine every day, me for instance I wake up, have about the same breakfast and get ready for work and I go to work then I go home but there's something I can do to change that routine, something of a surprise like I said, say I tried to have breakfast at a restaurant instead or I went out with friends on a work day or I took an unexpected vacation, do you understand Harry?" she finished and her smile was still ever so kind.

Harry wrote down something in response:

_I think I understand what you mean. _

"Good, now don't worry over it, take it slowly, it's important that your body and mind stay away from as much stress as possible," she said.

Harry nodded.

She stood up and walked over to the large chalkboard.

"I want you to do one last thing for me before our time is up, Harry, come stand over here please," she said to him and Harry stood up quickly and walked over the chalkboard.

"This is sort of a practice I like to make patients do, now all I want from you is for you to pick up a piece of chalk and try not to think, just feel, and I want you to write down the emotions you are feeling, just keep writing, there's no structure or order to where you need to put the words, just put them wherever you want, alright? Just don't hesitate when a feeling comes to you, ok Harry?"

Harry nodded and he felt nervous but he picked up a rather long piece of chalk from the little line of them and waited:

"Start now, please."

And Harry began to write the words all over the chalkboard, the sound of the chalk on the blackboard echoing in the silent room. He didn't hesitate, whenever he thought of something he was feeling he wrote it down and kept on writing until he couldn't think of any more emotions and for some reason his head felt empty and cold. There before him was the filled chalkboard with his words of feeling and Harry looked at what he had done as did Ms. Gardiner:

_Sadness, hungry, desperation, loss, tired, exhausted, lonely, guilt, angry, bitterness, depressed, cold, scared, annoyed, dizzy, sick, enraged, scatterbrained, neglected, pain._

These were Harry's feelings written in no order whatsoever on the bored, some were jumbled together, others all by themselves, all of them different sizes.

"You feel guilt the most," she suddenly said.

Harry almost flinched and then he looked up at the board and wondered what she meant but then he saw it and it pained him now and it was hard to fight the tears that were threatening to fall. There was the word 'guilt" written almost in the center of the board and he had written it bigger than any other of the words in the white, crisp chalk. It stood out to his eyes, burning an impression inside him like a hot iron rod pressing against his chest.

Harry put down the chalk and patted his hands together to get rid of the dust. He stood there looking down at his trainers until she said:

"You did a good job today, Harry, I know it's hard for you," Ms. Gardiner's voice was absolutely sincere.

Harry wasn't angry at her for what she said, not like it had been when Dumbledore was trying to tell him how he felt. And he felt guilty, extremely guilty and he thought this feeling would drown him.

"That's it for our first session, Harry. I will hope to see you next week," and she shook his hand once more. "Don't forget about your prescriptions and the practices."

Harry quickly got his pad of paper and pen and circled _Thank you _to let her know he was telling her it again.

This seemed to make her smile and she watched him leave the small office.

* * *

Harry finally found the waiting room as he held a small paper bag with his prescriptions; there were a lot for him to take and instructions on when to take them. Professor Snape was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs reading a magazine and Harry went over to the man who seemed to be in a bad mood, well worse than he was normally in anyway.

Harry thought it funny when Snape lowered the magazine and looked up at him but he was surprised to see the man's eyes fill with an emotion that Harry wasn't sure what it was. And then Snape glared at him again and said:

"So? How did it go?"

Harry briefly thought that if the man was annoyed with his writing on his notepad then why did he ask him questions but he quickly wrote down:

_Ok. She gave me some prescriptions to take and I have to do some exercises to relieve stress. I'm supposed to avoid any kind of stress. _

Snape read the untidy scrawl and smirked somewhat. He stood and looked down at Harry.

"I'll be right back, Professor Dumbledore asked me to talk to your therapist after every session, stay here and _don't_ go wandering about, understood?" Snape said a bit sharply and Harry nodded.

He felt so very tired as he sat in the seat that Snape had been sitting in. The waiting room was rather empty but with a few people here and there and some in line to speak to the front desk. His mind felt exhausted beyond comprehension. He didn't know how much hope he had in these sessions but he wished he would not be silent forever.

* * *

**Ok, so that's Chapter 1. I hope everyone likes the way the story is going so far. Chapter 2 will be in Professor's Snape's POV. Thank you again for reading : )**


	3. Chapter 2: A Man of Few Words

**Chapter 2: A Man of Few Words**

_ Severus Snape was a man of few words and very little patience. He didn't wear his heart on his sleeve like most people and was in total control over his own emotions. But for some reason when it came to the boy named Harry Potter he found it rather difficult to keep his calm exterior. The boy really was infuriating as Severus had seen him for the past 5 years at school. He was incompetent, lazy, and arrogant just like his father had been. _

_ So as soon as Severus Snape had gotten word of what had happened in the Department of Mysteries which had left one said Harry Potter mute he almost scoffed at the idea. However Professor Dumbledore had been serious about this matter and Severus knew that the man was pained by it. He cared too much for the boy. Severus wasn't going to fall for Potter's antics at trying to get more attention from the wizarding world. _

But _it was unlike the boy to joke about something this serious. When Dumbledore had asked him to brew the potion that would force Potter to speak he more than obliged and had finished it quickly knowing this would put an end to Potter's so called condition. He had not expected the boy to have been telling the truth however when the potion didn't help him at all. He pondered this for a moment and now knew to his certain astonishment that the boy was not faking as he had told him or rather had written it down. _

_ Oh how Severus hated when Potter took out his silly muggle notepad to communicate with others, especially to Severus. Severus had to admit though; it was bothering him to see the Potter boy like this. He knew Potter was struggling, trying to deal with his sudden crisis as well as the death of his godfather._

_ Black. Even in his head he grimaced at the name. After his failed attempt at aiding the boy he had downed half a bottle of Firewhisky which didn't seem to help how he was feeling. Why was Harry Potter's condition bothering him so much? Severus was noticing things about the boy since first term; he had gotten rid of the mop of shaggy hair replacing it with a rather kept version, he hadn't grown much and for some reason Severus was beginning to see something he hadn't quite recognized before: Potter was too damned kind. It was sickening how kind the boy was to others. _

_ But the boy's kindness could not quell his curiosity, his kindness had not stopped him from looking into the Pensieve at Severus's worst memory and how enraged he had been at the boy, how much he had wanted to hurt the insolent brat for doing what he had done. Though when he had grabbed the boy and surfaced him from the memory the boy's eyes held the look of absolute disappointment and fear which unhinged Severus somewhat. He promised if the boy had ever told anyone about the memory he might just as well as kill him or humiliate him, whichever opportunity came first but Potter seemed to be true to his word._

_ He remembered the shaking in Potter's words as he relayed the message about Sirius Black to him and for only a second as he thought back on it did he think it might have been best to give the boy a sign that he understood but how was he to know that the boy would escape the blasted Umbridge woman's clutches?_

_And then the boy had escaped the Dark Lord once more at the cost of his ability to speak. It had seemed quite nice to not have to hear Potter's irritating drawl but he had known that the boy was distancing himself. When he had found Potter pointing his wand at Malfoy but was unable to say anything and then the blond Slytherin had pointed his own wand at the boy ready to curse him Severus knew he had to intervene. _

_When he saw the boy's reddened, tired eyes he knew Potter had been crying, a lot from how he looked. He was different now to Severus, slightly just: the boy's shoulders seemed to be carrying a heavy load and he walked with all too uncertain steps. His eyes were sorrow filled and Severus could see the boy's pain at which he failed miserably at hiding. _

_It had been very different for Potter to not be able to retort back to his musings or provocations. Potter had settled for glaring at him instead which did nothing but amuse him. Harry Potter was a young man of almost 16 but when you looked at him he didn't seem to be very manly even if he tried to hold himself up straight. He was just a boy to Severus Snape: a silent, arrogant boy. _

_Dumbledore's request to escort Potter to his therapy sessions did nothing but irritate him. He was tired of having to do so much for the old wizard, especially when it involved Potter. But then those eyes would catch his own and there was an innocence there that had not been yet stolen. It was bothering him how much he could tell of what the boy was feeling when he caught just a glimpse. He had agreed to do the job, regretting it soon after. He had wanted to spend his summer working on new potions and hoping the Dark Lord didn't have too much for him to do but now he was stuck with Potter. _

_Severus had been keeping an eye on Potter since the start of summer vacation only trading spots once in a while with Kingsley or Mad Eye Moody. He hadn't seen much of the boy however since he had hardly come out of the house but when he did he found that Potter had too many chores given on to him. Painting garden benches, weeding flower beds, mowing the lawn, washing his uncle's car but Potter had kept a simple face, even smiling now and again at something Severus could only guess at._

_And Severus hated how Potter was a hard worker at home, dealing with a bossy aunt and uncle. Severus didn't quite find the small smacks his uncle gave him or threats with a frying pan by his aunt very amusing. He knew when his uncle slapped him upside his head one morning in the living room for once again spacing out that it had hurt the boy._

_Potter was always spacing out, even whilst doing chores. He would find the boy working and then he would stop for moments on end just staring at nothing, it took most of his will power not to walk up to the brat and shake some sense into him. And then when a late afternoon arrived the boy had left his home (which made Severus want to smack the boy himself) and had walked to the nearby park. _

Childish_ Severus had thought as he watched Potter hop on the nearby swing and then plop himself down to sit upon it. When he watched the boy swing it had almost seemed like a natural thing for Potter to do. He seemed mesmerized by the action and Severus grew annoyed at the squeaking sound the chains made as the boy went back and forth, higher and higher and Severus had a bad prediction. The boy was being a bit reckless even if it was on a child's swing. _

_Before Severus could build up another thought he had heard the sudden movement of chains and the whacking sound as the boy had fallen onto his back. _

Idiot boy,_ Severus had chided inside his head. For a second he thought the boy was unconscious and almost moved from his place from across the street and from under his Concealment Charm. But Potter had coughed and breathed in deep. The boy lay there for a long time looking up at the sky and Severus could only watch the boy's lips move but no sound emitted from them. _

_Then the boy had lifted himself up and made his way home._

* * *

Severus had stopped his reminiscing when Potter now stood before him looking as if he had been crying somewhat again and holding his notepad and paper with a small brown bag. Potter looked exhausted like he had run on for miles without stopping. He smelt a little of a perfume and very powerful soap. For a second he almost thought the boy would say something to him. But Potter was silent.

"So? How did it go?" he asked plainly.

Potter set to writing his reply quickly with nervous hands. Severus read the boy's writing with a bit of difficulty but understood it none-the-less.

He stood up and took an uninterested notice that the top of the boy's head barely reached his chest.

"I'll be right back, Professor Dumbledore asked me to talk to your therapist after every session, stay here and _don't_ go wandering about, understood?" Severus doubted that Potter would do anything to make him angry.

He headed to the room he knew Potter had been in and knocked albeit harshly upon the simple door.

"Come in," the woman called from within and Severus did so.

"Please take a seat, Professor," Ms. Gardiner was her name and Severus knew that this woman was all too happy to have the job she did.

Severus wanted to stay standing but he thought it best to follow the young woman's request and took a seat on the couch. Ms. Gardiner took a seat opposite him in her office chair and she had in her hand a thin red file.

"Harry did well today," she said with a soft smile.

It was hard for Severus not to grimace at the woman. Severus didn't like how calm the woman was.

"Did he now?" Severus replied.

"Yes, we discussed some exercises that Harry should be practicing; meditation for one and relaxing his mind to find an inner balance," she said.

"Mr. Potter has a slight ineptitude to do such a thing or to do much of what is asked of him," Severus's voice slithered out in its velvety tune.

"With Occlumency, you mean?"

Severus was almost taken aback at what the woman had said. He inwardly cursed Dumbledore.

"Perhaps I can help Harry with getting the hang of it during his sessions; I am a skilled Occlumens myself. I will ask Professor Dumbledore if I could be allowed to shed a little light on the subject for Harry."

Severus was starting to hate the woman's smile. It was hard to believe this woman could be skilled in the art of Occlumency but he did not put it past her.

"Harry finds it hard to discuss the loss of his loved one," she continued. "But he made good progress of it today. His demeanor is rather anxious though, I want to work on that with him. He is thoroughly depressed however; I have already prescribed something to help him work through his sluggishness. I also told him about something I want him to start practicing soon. It's an exercise that has helped many of my patients. I told Harry as he goes about his daily activities to put some effort into doing things he normally wouldn't do, to step out of his routine once in a while."

"I see," Severus said as he listened to the woman talk.

"He seemed to understand what I wanted of him and I believe he will try very hard to get his voice working again," she said with a small smile. "You understand his condition, don't you?"

"Yes," Severus answered a little too quickly.

"He needs to stay away from stress as much as he can, the more stress he has the more it will hinder his recovery process," Ms. Gardiner said.

Severus was about to reply but his dark eyes caught site of the large blackboard to his left.

"Oh, this was Harry's last practice for today," she said noticing what had caught his interest. "I had him write down the emotions he was feeling at the time without hesitation until he couldn't think of anymore. You see, the words that are grouped are more associative emotions and the ones that are separate seem to be the ones he feels in sort of a disassociated sense. And the largest word is the feeling he feels most of the time."

Severus found that he could not stop his eyes from moving from word to word.

_Sadness, hungry, desperation, loss, tired, exhausted, lonely, guilt, angry, bitterness, depressed, cold, scared, annoyed, dizzy, sick, enraged, scatterbrained, neglected, pain._

They seemed to dance before him now. The boy had felt all this in one time? And guilt was the main emotion he felt? Potter felt guilty for his godfather's death.

"Is that all?" Severus said, finally tearing his eyes away from the chalkboard.

"For now yes," she said.

"Well, thank you…" but he was cut off.

"Oh! He really needs to eat more. He's a little too skinny, yes?"

Severus was a man of few words and all he could reply before last glancing at the chalkboard and leaving was a simple: "Yes."

* * *

Severus couldn't believe the boy had fallen asleep right in the middle of the waiting room but there Potter was: sitting with his head titled down to the side somewhat, eyes closed and breathing shallow.

"The poor boy," he heard an old witch say to his right.

Severus was practically glaring at the boy thinking he would wake up because of it. He knelt down somewhat and placed a cold hand on Potter's shoulder and shook it slightly.

"Do wake up, Mr. Potter," Severus said as the boy quickly woke with his eyes blinking fast and he seemed to be figuring out where he was until he looked up at him finally.

His lips moved suddenly but there was nothing, just empty shadows of words that could not be said. Potter took his pen and notepad and scribbled something:

_Sorry sir, I fell asleep. _

_ Well that's a brilliant conclusion Mr. Potter. _Severus had to find the strength not to say to the boy.

"If you would kindly get yourself together, Mr. Potter so we can take you back to your relatives," his words came out stiffly and the boy did as he was told.

* * *

It took only a moment for Severus to Apparate before the fence to Number 4 Privet Drive and his hand came out without knowing it to steady Potter who seemed to be losing his balance.

"I suggest you pay extra attention to the potions you are to be taking, Mr. Potter, do not get them mixed up. I will see you again soon for your next session," he was about to leave with those words but Potter had made a frantic movement with his body as if telling the man to wait. "What is it?"

The boy scribbled something hastily and held it up for Severus to read in the light of the sun.

_Did Professor Dumbledore say anything about me staying with the Weasleys?_

Severus gave the boy a glare but replied:

"Not that I am aware of Mr. Potter, if there will be a change in your _living_ matters I am sure the Headmaster will not hesitate to inform you, now, I bid you a good afternoon Mr. Potter."

He knew he had startled the boy when he had turned on his heel and Apparated with a loud crack.

* * *

**That's the end of Chapter 2. If you would like to give me some of your thoughts, I would appreciate it. Sorry the story is slow moving but it should pick up speed soon. Thank you for reading. : )**


	4. Chapter 3: A Connection

**Chapter 3: A Connection**

His body thrashed about in his bed as the nightmare pursued him in his sleep. Harry Potter's dream was another he had never had before:

People were calling out his name over and over and he barely recognized their alarmed voices. They really wanted to reach him and Harry was running through a giant crowd of inhabitants with shadowed faces. He didn't know where he was as the outlines of everything seemed to be in shadows. They were calling his name as he was lost and he could not answer them no matter how hard he tried but he ran, bumping off people, pushing past them and fighting to keep going through the thousands of people that seem to suffocate him. He could barely see up ahead but when he did look up he saw the long red hair of his mother and the short messy brown hair of his father. They were holding hands, their backs to him and they kept walking and somehow getting further and further away from Harry even though he was running so fast to catch up. Their faces were blurred in the white and black smears but Lily was smiling at her husband and James smiled back, his glasses shimmered and Harry kept tripping over people's feet and bumping hard into people's sides and he was breathing fast, his legs feeling like lead; he felt so heavy and they were calling him and his voice wasn't working and he was breathing frantically now and the voices that were calling him were growing louder and louder and louder until he thought his ears would bleed because of it.

Then there was silence and he opened his eyes to see nothing but black and the man he knew as Voldemort standing before him; his wand in hand. Harry did not have his wand and before he knew it Voldemort had made a slashing movement with it and Harry felt the burning pain in his throat as it had been cut. Warm, too warm of blood spilled down his hand that clutched the open wound. And Voldemort's hand was coming to touch his face and Harry couldn't move but he knew he was dying and he could not say anything, could not call out to his mother and father or answer the distant calls of mingled voices that shouted his name over and over…

Harry gasped silently as he awoke in a cold sweat and he immediately rolled over on to his side and willed himself not to be sick. His body was shaking so hard it hurt. The tears in his eyes felt cold and his face was flushed. When the dizziness and sick filling in his stomach had subsided Harry opened his eyes to realize it was only midnight. He could see the time on his alarm clock although it was blurred because his glasses were on his desk. Harry rubbed at his sweaty face. He sat up slowly feeling more alone than ever and swallowed hard. He had forgotten to take his Dreamless Sleep potion the 3 hours before when he had fallen asleep. It had been a few days since his first session with his therapist. Harry was now into his second week of summer vacation. The potion that was to help his depression made him feel a little too energized and his eyes felt wider when he would look around at things but it stopped him from sleeping all day and gave him more of an appetite even though he couldn't get very much food from the kitchen, like always.

Harry put his glasses on slowly and took the note once again from his desk and read it:

_Dear Harry, _

_ I hope you are doing well. I want to inform you that your schedule for your therapy sessions has changed. You will go to St. Mungo's once a week, every Wednesday at 11am until term resumes on September 1__st__. Your escort will pick you up promptly to take you to your sessions. Please take care._

_Most sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

Harry wondered again if Snape was annoyed that he had to see more of Harry than what was originally planned. He had been taking the vitamin supplement potion as well as the one for anemia. He opened the brown paper bag and took out one of the small vials from its miniature case. He looked out into the night sky and his throat stung somewhat because the dream had felt all too real to him. He drank the bottle of Dreamless Sleep and took off his glasses and curled up on his bed. His eyes closed almost straight away, as if there had been a weight pulling at them and he was soon asleep again.

* * *

He felt silly when he just sat on his bed and tried to meditate. He tried not to feel anything but he couldn't stop his worrying thoughts form getting to him. He was really horrible at this, at controlling his emotions just as Snape had said. The past few days Harry had a lot to remember. He had to remember his potions that he needed to take as well as trying to do something out of the ordinary within his day. His first attempt at doing something like that was when he tried to say a cheery hello (a cheery gesture anyway) to Dudley earning a smack from Uncle Vernon in the process for bothering Dudley like that when no one could understand Harry. Harry had retreated to his room after that and written to his friends finally:

_Dear Ron,_

_ It's good to hear from you. Things have been a little bit hard here because of my condition. It's good to hear about Fred and George's business, I would like to go see it, hopefully I will get to stay with you soon, I really hope so anyway, it's hard not having anyone to really talk to, even if it is by my notepad. Hermione mentioned her worry of the O.W.L.s to me as well, I don't really know if I am nervous or not about them but maybe Hermione is rubbing off on me. Well, I had my first therapy session and it went alright I suppose, the therapist is really nice the only thing that sort of makes the whole experience worse is that Snape is taking me to and from St. Mungo's…he really does put a damper on my mood. Hope you are having a nice summer and tell your mum not to worry, I'm okay._

_Harry _

_Dear Hermione,_

_ I'm fine Hermione but to answer your question nothing's changed with my condition. I had my first therapy session already and my next one is tomorrow, I have to do them once a week now till term starts again. It went alright I guess, the therapist is really kind, she reminds me of you somewhat..But I hate the fact that Snape is the one taking me to these sessions..I got some prescription for depression because I guess I am depressed but its helping it, at least I think it is. Even though it's been two weeks since I've last seen you both, I really miss you and Ron. Hoping you are having a good summer._

_Harry_

Harry had sent them off with Hedwig who seemed to be happy to have something to do and now he was practicing his meditation, trying to find the inner balance that Ms. Gardiner had mentioned to him. It was then that a thought struck Harry and he started to feel embarrassed. Professor Snape had gone into Ms. Gardiner's office, had he seen the chalkboard and what was written on it or had she erased it before Snape went in? Harry didn't know why this was bothering him so much and it wasn't helping his meditation whatsoever. Harry just kept growing frustrated so he took a break. He managed to sneak into the kitchen wondering if the Dursleys were even home and he made himself a quick sandwich and a cup of juice and headed upstairs to his room again.

His jaw felt weak as he chewed the sandwich. It must be because he hardly moved his mouth too much since he could not speak. Harry finished the sandwich quickly and drank the juice down. It felt good to have something in his stomach. He missed the food from Hogwarts, especially its feasts and Harry found himself thinking of nothing but food for a minute or two as he had spaced out again. He really needed to stop doing that, it was quite pathetic, it made him feel like his brain was made of mush.

Harry thought he'd do something out of the ordinary once more and opened his Hogwarts trunk and started to clean it out, making a pile of useless things like broken quills, old candies, holey socks and clothes he didn't wish to keep (mostly the one's that had belonged to Dudley). He made a neat pile of his school books, a pile of his own clothes (that he had bought for himself) and another pile of his robes and uniforms. He reached into the trunk to grab his scarf and felt something prick his finger which made him flinch at the sudden pain.

Harry brought up his finger that was bleeding now and he sucked on it and looked inside his trunk which was almost empty besides his Invisibility Cloak and Firebolt and odd things. The broken shards of the mirror lay at the bottom of his trunk and had mostly broken into small bits but there was one long shard from the mirror that was still together. Harry picked up the mirror shard gently and placed it softly on the floor. He found a dust pan and small hand broom and managed to get most of the bits of glass out of his trunk. He emptied the dust pan into the trash along with the other trash pile and put his books into his trunk a long with his clothes, uniforms, robes and school shoes. He picked up the shard gingerly and placed it atop of his Gryffindor cardigan.

_There, all neat. _Harry thought to himself and closed his trunk. His finger stung and he went to the restroom and found a Band-Aid and wrapped it around the small wound. He settled himself on his bed and wondered what he should do now. Harry decided to take a walk right then. He heard somewhere that long walks relieved stress. Harry put on his trainers and grabbed his jumper and headed downstairs.

It was sort of an overcast sky above him as he walked to the tiny park. He wondered if it would rain today. He put his jumper on and looked around; his steps sounding on the pavement. Harry sighed inwardly. He felt stuck somehow and he didn't know why. Perhaps he always felt this way when he had to spend his summer vacation with the Dursleys. He remembered when he had returned from his first year at Hogwarts and foolishly thought that it might have all been a dream.

Harry soon saw that there were a few people at the park: a mother and her little boy, and a couple of small girls playing on the teeter totter. Harry took a seat on the swing that he always sat on, the tips of his trainers barely skidded against the dirt.

He thought of nothing in particular as he swung gently using his feet to move the swing back and forth but he remembered what he had thought about when he was last sitting here. It had been a while since Harry had heard his own voice; he found himself wishing he had it recorded somewhere because this was too strange, maybe he would forget what his voice sounded like aloud. The voice in his head as he thought these things didn't even sound familiar. Harry began to realize he was growing depressed again so he stopped and tried to clear his mind. It still wasn't easy but the swinging motion was sort of helping as he closed his eyes.

"Hey, what's your name?"

Harry opened his eyes suddenly at the sound of the little voice that came from the small boy who was standing by him now. He had short brown hair and wore a red shirt and jean shorts with small brown trainers. His little hand held the swing next to Harry as he looked at him with slightly wide eyes that were a dark brown. Harry smiled somewhat; the boy's face looked a bit sticky as he had chocolate around his mouth; he guessed he had been eating an ice-cream pop. Harry sort of panicked however for he was once again reminded that he could not answer with his words and the little boy was fidgeting around but still waiting for his reply.

Harry wondered if the boy could even read as he took out his pen and notepad and started to scribble HARRY in all capitals. The boy's mother had come over and took her son's arm.

"Come on love," the tall woman said and Harry didn't get to see her face as she turned, leaving with her small boy.

Harry heard the boy say:

"Is there somethin' wrong with him, Mum?"

"Maybe sweetie," she said and they were gone around the corner as Harry watched them go.

He looked at the big letters that spelt HARRY for a little bit until a giant rain drop slapped the paper, smearing the ink somewhat. It had made Harry jump a bit in the swing and he looked up and soon enough there were many rain drops to follow. He didn't know why he had not moved from the swing when the droplets began to fall harder and his notepad was getting wet. The raindrops were cold on Harry's hands and head. His hair was getting soaked as was the rest of him for it was pouring now. Harry listened to the rain falling as the park was empty now, the girls had ran off when the downpour had started.

Time wavered on; the sand below him was getting soppy and muddy, Harry's shoes leaving prints upon the wet earth. Harry was shivering but he hadn't noticed. He felt like the rain was cleansing to him in some way, washing away his thoughts and worries. But that wasn't true, Harry still had those thoughts, the same worries and he was growing angrier by the second. He could feel his heart beating fast and he clenched his teeth and the rain came down still. He stood quickly and with a swift, hated motion he threw down the pad of paper and it splashed uselessly in the mud with a loud splattering noise. His hand gripped the chain of the swing and he flung the swing away from him and it made loud squeaking sounds. Harry had stalked off feeling cold and numb again like he had the first night in the hospital wing. His trainers splashed through the mud and water as he quickly went home to his room, luckily the Dursleys were not back yet so he didn't have to hear his aunt's complaints that he was a sopping mess of rain water. Harry toed off his muddy trainers at the door though as to not track the mud in and he hurried into the house and upstairs. Stripping off his clothes, he took a hot shower, almost too hot as the water scalded his skin slightly.

Harry pulled the covers of his bed over his entire body as he lay there wearing a gray shirt and his red pajama bottoms, his hair was wet and cold as he hadn't bothered to dry it. Night had fallen and it was dark in his room, Hedwig wasn't back yet, maybe she had stayed at either Hermione's or Ron's because of the rain. He drew himself closer to his body and the Dreamless Sleep was making him ever so drowsy and before he drifted off into a mindless slumber he could hear his thoughts just barely, two words repeated too many times:

_I'm Harry…_

* * *

The rain had ceased and the sun was out strikingly in the sky when Harry's alarm went off at 9:30AM. Harry hated the thing now, he just wanted to sleep; he didn't feel like going over his feelings today with Ms. Gardiner, he definitely didn't feel like hanging around next to Snape, the git. But Harry turned the alarm off, almost falling out of bed once again. His head felt hot and his throat actually hurt. Maybe it was a bad idea to sit in the rain forever then go to bed with wet hair.

Harry sighed silently as he lay on his back, still tired. He needed all of his strength to get out of bed and get dressed and flatten down his hair in the bathroom as well as brushing his teeth. He looked a bit pale, Harry had noticed. He had chosen to wear a collared blue shirt with a gray cardigan over it and blue jeans. He thought he should try to dress a bit formally since Ms. Gardiner seemed to dress that way, even Snape.

Harry found a newer pair of black trainers he had bought himself last summer. He put them on and hurried downstairs. Aunt Petunia was the only one home. Harry had to get a new notepad from the ones she had gotten him since the other one was probably buried under mud and ruined. He scribbled something and gently held it out toward her and she read it with pursed lips:

_I'm going to another one of my sessions today at 11:00am. _

"I see," Petunia said as she was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. "Well, get yourself some breakfast, I have some shopping to do so lock the door when you leave, _don't _make a mess."

Harry nodded and she left with her purse in hand and he heard the car pull out of the garage. He felt a heaviness on his chest and realized he was nervous again. Harry helped himself to more cornflakes as he waited for Snape. He was rinsing his bowl in the sink when the doorbell rang and Harry quickly grabbed the keys from the small hook by the refrigerator and made sure he had his notepad, pen, and wand. He rushed to the door and opened it somewhat too eagerly and there stood Severus Snape wearing another set of muggle attire. The man wore a dark gray collared dress shirt under the same black overcoat and black slacks and shiny black dress shoes. Once again the man's hair wasn't greasy.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said as he looked over Harry's attire. "I would assume you are ready to go?"

Harry nodded and stepped outside on to the small porch as Snape stepped backward. Harry closed the front door and locked it quickly. He pocketed the keys and took out his pad of paper and wrote something quickly and held it out to Snape to read:

_Good morning, Sir. _

Snape seemed to have tried to smirk but it came on his face like a half grimace.

"Indeed Potter, come now, I don't want to be late," Snape quickly walked across the concrete driveway and stepped past the ending of the wards on the house. Harry hurried after him and Snape had taken something out of his pocket and handed it swiftly to Harry.

Harry took the tiny glass bottle and gave the man a questioning look.

"Pepper Up Potion, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape answered dryly.

Harry shook his head and held it out for the man to take it back; he didn't want to go to his session with steam coming out of his ears.

"Mr. Potter, if you do not take it I will be forced to stand here until you do," Snape snapped at Harry.

Harry drank the stuff and immediately he felt the warm, tickling sensation as the steam began to come out of his ears but his sore throat was gone and his face didn't feel hot anymore. Snape seemed to find the sight somewhat amusing and he held out his arm and Harry took it tightly as he had done before. Before they Apparated Harry heard the velvety voice say:

"Maybe next time, Mr. Potter, you won't sit outside in the rain like an idiot."

* * *

"Oh, had a cold, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner had said as soon as Harry entered the small office. She wore light red robes this time with black high heels.

Harry's cheeks had gone red with embarrassment and he nodded quickly.

"Well, I hope you've had a good week, I'm glad Professor Dumbledore agreed to let us meet once every week," she said and she was smiling. "Would you like some tea?"

Harry saw the small tea kettle in her hands and the blue tea cup; she was already pouring him some. Harry sat on the couch as she pulled up her office chair and placed down the pink and blue tea cups. Harry wondered if the steam from his ears had gone away when he could no longer feel the tickling sensation.

"So Harry, have you been well?" she asked.

Harry nodded softly and then scribbled a message down on his notepad and pushed it forward.

_How are you?_

"Perfectly fine, Harry," she smiled again and drank from her cup. Harry mimicked her movements; the tea was hot but sweet.

"So I have a few questions for you to start today's session, now, have you been meditating?"

Harry took up his pen and thought for a moment, thinking of what he should say and then wrote as neatly as he could despite his slightly shaking hand:

_I've tried but I'm rubbish at it honestly. I have a lot of trouble clearing my head._

"I see but I think you underestimate yourself, Harry," she said with another of her small smiles. "For people who normally have trouble thinking too many thoughts at once, like you Harry, meditation can be difficult to grasp. It's anxiety that's holding you back from clearing your mind and just having nothing at all to think about it."

Harry nodded and wrote something under his last message:

_I get restless and it's sort of hard to not think about the bad things.._

"You play Quidditch right Harry?" she asked as she read his notepad.

Harry nodded quickly.

"What position?"

Harry wrote:

_Seeker_

"On the field that takes up most of your concentration, correct?" she sipped her tea again and placed the cup down softly.

He nodded once more.

"Well, that's some form of meditation. For that hour or so you care mostly of nothing but finding and catching that Golden Snitch. Do you ever find yourself having a hard time concentrating when you play Quidditch?"

Harry shook his head no and then wrote something down quickly:

_The only thing I really worry about is getting hit by bludgers but flying really tends to make me feel at ease. _

Ms. Gardiner smiled and said gently:

"Maybe when you sit down to meditate you should think about flying at first, I believe that should push you in the right direction and will settle yourself enough to find a good balance. If you start off terrible then take a break and come back to it later, do you understand, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"You can also think of happy things, good memories. I know you should be first-rate at that since you can produce a full body Patronus," Ms. Gardiner said. She had folded her hands on her knees and had her legs crossed.

Harry nodded again, trying at once to think of something happy but Ms. Gardiner continued:

"Another question for you, have you been trying to do things that step out of your normal routine?"

Harry nodded. He felt the action to be quite tedious now.

"Can you list a few of them for me, Harry?"

Harry thought quickly, wondering how to explain what he had done so far and he finally wrote down:

_-Tried to be nice to my muggle cousin, Dudley since he's a bit rude to me._

_That's an understatement, _Harry thought.

_-Cleaned out my school trunk (it's always a mess). _

_-Said "good morning" to Professor Snape with my notepad. That's never happened before, not even when I could speak._

She smiled brightly at the list and said as she looked at Harry:

"Yes, Professor Snape does seem like someone who doesn't care to be a part of a conversation."

Harry smirked and wrote:

_I don't know about that. He just doesn't care for me. _

She simply smiled but didn't say anything in reply to Harry's message.

"How has your prescription helped you, Harry?"

Harry had to think for a moment again before answering:

_I feel like I have a lot more energy but I still tend to space out. I sort of feel things more, I guess, I don't really know how to describe it._

"I understand Harry; you've taken well to it. You'll be on it for a few weeks and then we'll take you off of it and see how you do, ok?"

Harry nodded once.

"Now Harry, we are going to try another exercise," she said. "I'm going to leave the room for a little bit and while I am gone I want you to think of all the things that are worrying you, troubling you, fears or doubts, big or small, just anything you can think of and make a list of them on a piece of your notepad paper. _Then_ I want you to tear the paper out and fold it once so I can't see what you've written alright?"

Harry thought the request odd for a moment but he nodded. She smiled at him and he watched her stand up, walk to the door and leave the room. It was quiet now and Harry didn't like it. He lifted his pen up onto a fresh notepad paper but didn't start writing at first because he felt nervous. His heart started to race and his right hand shook as did the pen and he tried to steady it as he wrote:

_-I feel guilty about Sirius' death. _

_ -I'm afraid I will never get my voice back._

_ -I'm worried how school will go because I can't speak._

_ -I don't want to be out casted again. _

_ -I'm scared of what Voldemort might do next. _

_ -I'm scared that I won't be able to defeat Voldemort._

_ -I hate that people expect so much from me._

_-I don't want to feel disappointed in my dad because I found something out about him that I didn't like. _

_-I hate feeling useless. _

_-I feel like I don't deserve the help that people are giving me. _

_-I'm afraid to go to sleep because I might have nightmares._

_-I hate remembering his death. _

_-I'm worried that I won't be able to come back from this. _

_-I wish the pain would go away._

_-I hate being me sometimes. _

_-I feel guilty when something makes me happy. _

_-I don't want Voldemort to kill the people I care about. It scares me. _

_-I would give anything to have him alive still, even if it meant not speaking ever again, even if I had to take his place. _

Harry stopped finally and hated how low this was making him feel. He wished she had never asked him to do this. He prayed that the woman didn't have to read the list. Harry waited for a few minutes and in spite of himself he wrote one final thing down:

_-I don't like that Snape's hair looks clean these days, it worries me. _

It made him feel better; it made him think of what Ron would say if he ever saw Snape's non-greasy hair. He took one last look at what he had written and he folded the paper neatly in half and slid his finger along the fold to make the sharp crease. It was as if all of his troubles were in a little space now and for some reason Harry's heart didn't feel so heavy.

It was then that Ms. Gardiner entered the room carrying a small metal tray. She sat back down in her seat and said cheerfully:

"All done there, Harry?"

Harry nodded and gestured to the folded piece of paper. She placed the tray down.

"Please place it on here, Harry," she said.

Harry did so and she took out her wand swiftly, pointed it at the paper and said ever so calmly:

"_Incendio_." The small flames shot from the tip of her wand and the paper ignited easily. Harry watched as his list burned to nothing but black ash and he looked up at Ms. Gardiner.

"Did it help to make the list?" she asked.

Harry nodded because it had helped, it had helped to take everything and line it all up as if those feelings didn't control him but rather that he controlled them somewhat. It didn't make them go away, obviously but it gave him something, something of a start, a step towards getting better; at least that's what he had hoped for anyway.

"Harry, during our first session you were feeling guilty above anything else," she said suddenly and Harry's eyes lifted a bit and he looked into her dark green ones and wondered where this was going. "Do you want to talk about it Harry, the guilt you're feeling?"

Harry gripped his hands together and his lips felt tingly. His stomach was churning and his heart sped up again. How could he talk about it? How could he just make it real like that and explain just exactly why he felt guilty? He didn't know if he was strong enough.

"Harry?"

Harry took up his pen gently and slid the notepad on the table toward him more closely.

_I feel guilty_

His eyes stung and he felt sick, his heart shuddered and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The room felt all too cold now and too silent. Why did he feel so by himself? He wasn't alone, she was here with him and yet it was as if she had disappeared. He couldn't connect with her this way, with words on paper, it was too difficult, it was as if by writing them down, seeing those words in his handwriting jump back at him…And once again it was like pushing up against a giant stone, hopeless, it was never going to happen, the rock would not move no matter how hard he tried and the muscles in his throat ached once more, felt tight and pressured. He wasn't breathing; his hands were cold and shaking:

_because it's my fault_

Why was it so hard to write these words?

_I wanted to save him but because of me he_

_Just write the damn words already, _Harry's thoughts hissed at him , quaked within him, the confessions, the disappointment, the selfish, childish wants within him; he wanted to destroy them, to erase them all and feel normal, feel what normal people felt but that was impossible.

"Harry, you can stop."

Her words reached him like a song, a quiet, lovely song and he hadn't realized the tears that were falling down his cheeks; a few had splashed down upon the glass table. He was gripping the pen so tightly his knuckles were white. He let it go and brought his hands together, holding them as if it would bring him some comfort and then he brought them shakily to his face and covered his eyes. He felt pathetic because he knew loved ones died every day and people went on with their lives. He knew he was stronger than this, better than this but here he was, fighting a losing battle against his emotions.

He wiped at his eyes and was embarrassed, wishing he was invisible. He clumsily took up the pen and wrote horribly:

_I'm sorry. _

"Harry, it can be hard to face things that hurt too much, we lie to ourselves and it gets us by but not everyone can just stand up like you're trying to do and overcome what's wrong, overcome your suffering." Her voice was strong but still kind and she reached out one soft hand and took Harry's left hand with it. "And you are suffering Harry, quietly and desperately, but you're brave, a simple bravery that many of us have to force ourselves to expose it, to accept these things."

Harry's tears had stopped thankfully and he was getting a hold of his breathing. He looked at the hand that held his; a connection, a guiding light to what he hoped would not lead him to ruin.

"This doesn't make you weak Harry, this makes you human," Ms. Gardiner's words were waking him from the coldness he felt, like he had been doused in ice water. "You're a _good_ person Harry."

It was silent for a long time as Harry continued to look down at nothing and continued to breathe in and out. He felt like Hermione, eyes springing with tears, overtaken with emotion. It made him feel better. It was a moment and she took away her hand from his and went to her desk.

"That's all for today Harry," she said. "But I want to give you something before you go."

When Harry finally looked up with reddened eyes he saw that she had a few books in her arms. She sat down and placed them on the table. They looked brand new and were all fairly the same size except for the one on the bottom which was rather large.

"These are sign language books," she introduced. "They're very easy to learn from and very helpful, I thought you could take some time to learn sign language Harry."

Harry was confused and he took up his pad of paper and wrote quickly:

_I don't understand. How would I talk with people this way if _they _don't know sign language?_

She smiled again and suddenly Harry was watching her making a few gestures in unison with saying:

"I know sign language, Harry."

Harry really didn't know what to do but he wrote something quick and slid the notepad forward apprehensively. He glanced at the books and realized they were probably from a muggle bookstore.

_Do you think it will be a while before I get my voice back? Is that why you want me to learn?_

"No Harry, I really can't be sure when you will get your voice back but I thought I would prepare you. It's something for you to do to take your mind off things as well as an easier and faster way of communication between us. The instructions are quite easy to follow and I thought I could teach you as well if you want to of course," she said kindly.

Harry waited but then wrote something in reply:

_Why did you learn it?_

"I have a muggle sister who was born deaf-mute so I learned at a very young age to communicate with her a long with my mother who is also a muggle, my father is the wizard in the family," she explained and she had a certain softness in her eyes and Harry could tell old memories were playing behind them.

He took a moment before writing:

_Thank you. _He didn't feel comfortable pushing her on the matter of her family. He admired the fact that the woman was so intelligent; she really did remind him of Hermione or what a future Hermione might be like.

"Like this Harry," she said and she slightly cupped her right hand, placing her fingertips on her chin and brought her hand forward saying: "Thank you."

Harry thought it was simple enough. He couldn't remember if he had ever seen deaf people communicate on the few trips he had accompanied the Dursleys on. It worried him why she wanted him to learn it but it was something out of the ordinary for him. So Harry mimicked her and smiled slightly.

"Ok, so I'll see you next week then? Don't forget the tips I gave you for meditating, alright Harry?" Ms. Gardiner said and she got to her feet and Harry pocketed his pen and notepad a long with grabbing up the books that were quite heavy. He nodded at her.

"Remember Harry, you don't have to learn sign language, it's just something I thought you'd might want to look into," she said in a very friendly tone.

Harry nodded as she walked over to door and opened it for him.

"Have a good day, Harry."

Harry was a little flustered not being able to use his hands so he just nodded at her once more and gave Ms. Gardiner an awkward smile.

* * *

Harry felt a bit tired as he walked over to Professor Snape who was reading a small book this time. Harry wondered where he had gotten it from or if he had it the whole time. Snape looked up at him and with a somewhat curious look in his eyes said:

"What are the books for, Mr. Potter?"

Harry placed them down on the chair next to Snape and took out his notepad and pen, sat down and wrote:

_She thinks I should start to learn sign language so it's easier for me to communicate with her because she knows it so she gave me these books to start._

Harry watched as Snape's eyes darted quickly over the message:

"Interesting…" The man's lips tightened and he stood up. "Once again do _not_ wander off, I will be back soon enough Potter."

Harry watched him go carrying his book with him as he sat there with a heavy heart. Harry thought that because Ms. Gardiner had given him the books that she believed that it would take quite some time for Harry to get his voice back. His intuition was telling him this and he worried over it lightly in his head, his eyes itching and his shoulders slumped slightly; how he hated being him at the moment.

* * *

**Sorry it took a while to get this chapter up, I was doing a lot of research on BSL (British Sign Language) because it's a lot different than ASL and I am American so I wanted to be informed on the subject. I hope people are not discouraged because Harry might be learning BSL to communicate with his therapist. It has a purpose for later in the story. If you want to review I would really appreciate it, hope this chapter didn't disappoint anyone. The next chapter should be up pretty soon and it will be in Snape's POV. Thank you once more for reading. : )**


	5. Chapter 4: From Behind His Eyes

**Chapter 4: From Behind His Eyes**

_Severus took his seat before Professor Dumbledore whose worried expression unsettled him. The old wizard was silent for a moment with his chin resting on his folded hands. Usually by this time Dumbledore would offer Severus to have some tea with him or a lemon drop or some other type of overly sweet candy. _

_ "With the situation we have at hand, Harry is very vulnerable right now Severus," the Headmaster said and his sharp blue eyes looked into Severus's own and at once the Potions Master felt like he was being examined. "It's worse off that we could not contain Harry's condition among the Order members…but being that it is obvious…Harry will need the highest protection we can give him."_

_ Severus said in a low voice: "I do not know how long Azkaban will be able to hold those captured by the Order but for the time being…Potter is as safe as he can be."_

Because he has you_ Severus thought unwillingly. _

_ The old wizard nodded and Severus couldn't understand why the worry in his eyes still lived there. _

_ "It is essential that Harry get his voice back, Severus…his therapy sessions…" Dumbledore began but Severus cut him off:_

_ "I do not know what you are expecting that woman to do for him, Headmaster but the boy is an emotional _wreck_," Severus's words slithered out easily with bitterness sticking to them. _

_ "Harry has overcome much in his life, Severus, and losing Sirius was when it became too much. Something happened within those moments of facing Voldemort and coming to my office that jolted Harry's mind, his voice has been taken by the grief the boy is feeling and something that I alone cannot cure nor any potion or spell, Severus. Harry is the only cure to his condition. I only hope that he can find the will to overcome this. It is my fault that I did not intervene sooner but rather distanced myself from Harry…"_

_ Severus lowered his eyes. Dumbledore was too self righteous. _

_ "Once again, what do you expect of this woman?" _

_ "Ms. Gardiner has an excellent background and record in her services to the hospital, she has helped many of witches and wizards conquer the battles they face within themselves and see the way out, she works as well in a muggle institute. Her credentials were the best I could ask for, she was the most suitable to help Harry with his problem," the old wizard answered lifting his eyes and lowering his hands. "She does her best to help people Severus and she does not give up until she does." _

_ Severus had to refrain from rolling his eyes. _

_ "And are you going to give her the permission to teach the boy Occlumency?" he asked finally after another moment of undesired silence between them that was making Severus's face stiff. _

_ "I think it best that Sophia does teach the boy…unless you find yourself to be the better candidate, Severus?" Dumbledore said with that twinkle in his eye._

_ "The boy is hopeless with Occlumency, Headmaster," Severus words were spoken venomously, ignoring the man's jab. _

_ "No, Severus. Once again you let your hatred for James Potter cloud your judgment of Harry. You didn't bother for patience during those lessons nor did you give the boy the help he needed, you were doomed for failure." Dumbledore was sitting up straighter now behind his desk. _

_ "He does not possess any aptitude nor ounce of concentration that is required for such a-" _

_ "Enough…" Dumbledore said with no emotion. _

_ Severus was silenced and he waited for the old wizard to speak again._

_ "I think it is time you try to see in Harry what is obvious to others. You never once gave the boy a chance, instead immediately you saw him as a target for the animosity you hold onto so dearly for his father. Harry is not James, Severus and the last thing Harry needs right now is for you to believe that the boy is truly as hopeless as you say he is," Dumbledore's voice was steady yet strong and unyielding to Severus's menacing glare._

_ He was growing annoyed at the Headmaster's lecture towards him. Of course Dumbledore would always hold his Golden Boy in the highest light. _

_ "Harry has an unwavering gift for helping others who need it. If, given the chance, I doubt he would hold himself back to help even the likes of you, Severus." _

_ Severus gripped the arms of the chair and clenched his jaw so hard it hurt._

_ "What makes you think I need such _help_ from that _boy?_ I am a grown man, Albus, I can take care of myself," Severus was on his feet now. "I don't need such fruitless _pity_ from a _child_ who always manages to put himself into the most destructive situations possible causing those around him to always pay for his mistakes! The only thing the Potter boy needs is to _grow_ up…"_

_ "He's not the only one…" Dumbledore was giving Severus such a look that angered him to no end. _

_ "I do not need this," Severus was turning to leave. _

_ "Do not think that I don't value what you have done so far for Harry and the Order, I am merely speaking to you as a friend, Severus," Dumbledore was still sitting, still speaking in a gentle yet uncompromising way. "Harry needs help, he needs to step past this…Tell me Severus, do you think Harry deserves what has happened to him?"_

_ Severus looked over Dumbledore and contemplated the man's question. Of course the boy didn't deserve this but for some reason he wanted to deny this and believe that Potter did deserve such a punishment which made Severus realize how cruel that answer was. _

_ "No…Headmaster, the boy needs to get better, I understand this…" Severus said with finality. _

_ "Then please, Severus, find it in yourself to help Harry…The boy's spirit is fading, I know he wanted to die that night in the Ministry…Harry needs guidance…"_

_ "And if the boy refuses my help?" Severus said shaking his head ever so slightly._

_ "Knowing you Severus I doubt you will make your intentions obvious enough for Harry to realize you are trying to aid him on his way to recovery…" the Headmaster replied and he folded his hands together once more and stared at him._

_ "Well, if we are done here…"_

_ "This last thing, Severus, I would like you to treat Harry to lunch after his sessions, knowing he is malnourished I think it best someone remedy the situation since his relatives at home do not seem to feed the boy enough and Harry needs his strength. I will owl Mrs. Weasley as well, I'm sure she will be more than happy to help Harry," the old wizard said. "And seeing as it is my orders I don't think you will have much difficulty if the subject ever comes up with Voldemort…" _

_ If Severus had been calm before this was the end of it. Take the boy out to eat? What was the old fool thinking? What possibly had gone through the man's head to come to the conclusion that he should be the one to do such a thing? _

_ "Headmaster, I highly suggest that someone else…" Severus began clutching his hands into fists to keep him from shouting. _

_ "Oh come now, Severus, how difficult do you think a lunch outing could be with the boy?" Dumbledore said. _

_ Severus felt exasperated and he suddenly wanted to sit down again. Without answering he questioned the old wizard instead:_

_ "Are you going to let the boy stay with the Weasleys at all this summer?" _

_ It _was _something that he had even remembered the boy's question and even the look on Potter's face when he had asked Severus about the ginger family. Those eyes had been hopeful as if Severus knew all the answers and it made him feel on edge that he had done the boy a slight favor just now by asking. _

_ "He will be able to go to the Burrow soon enough but right now I think it best that Harry stay with the Dursleys where it's quiet, it would stunt his recovery being surrounded by them at the moment. At first it would most likely make Harry happy however I think he would soon grow claustrophobic and overwhelmed by the atmosphere," Dumbledore answered. _

_ So Severus would most undoubtedly not be able to dump the boy off on anyone else anytime soon. He wasn't a caretaker but he was starting to feel like one. _

_ "I will see you come our next meeting, Severus, give Harry my best," Dumbledore said._

_ "Good day, Headmaster…" Severus took his leave from the man's office at last. _

_Severus was a man not sure of the future. He didn't dwell on past decisions much rather the past itself. The fuel to the fire that was the detestation to the boy named Harry Potter was easy to unleash freely. But Severus knew deep down in his senses that it was an unjust hatred. Not many people hated Potter; even some Slytherins could only hide their like for the boy by replacing it with jealousy. And the boy was not an exact replica of James Potter if Severus could be honest with himself. _

_ Potter was kind and selfless in the worst of times, he was clumsy, he was loyal, and he was almost always honest. A hearty Gryffindor amongst Gryffindors. Severus knew the boy had lied to him many times but he also knew the boy did not trust him of course. Potter did have a knack for breaking school rules just like his father but he did not boast about them nor did he go around school acting on how popular he was. Severus knew these things because he wasn't blind to them. _

_ There was the problem; that Severus might have spent too much time knowing the boy through his actions, catching things he shouldn't, actually being curious, and finding the boy to actually being something to be examined. And Severus knew the boy had a temper, a temper that had overtaken him since the start of his 5__th__ Year and Severus could only presume that it was because of Cedric Diggory's murder that ignited it within Potter. He had seen the memory too many times in the boy's head. He hadn't tried with Potter when it came to teaching the boy Occlumency, he had basically attacked him with the subject and degraded him throughout the lessons and it had been rich moments then when he could lash out at the boy, treating him like he had treated James; a son to replace the ghost of his father._

_ And then Potter had emerged from the Pensieve with that _look; _the look that was infuriatingly stuck in Severus's memory. Did Potter truly feel sorry for him? The very thought made him sick. Potter may have had a few qualities that he had inherited from his parents though Severus knew the evident truth: the boy had not known anything about his parents except for what other people could only tell him. Did Potter feed off of it? Letting those words be a rare gift when someone would mention his father or mother? Did the boy build the ghosts of them in his head attaching bits of new found information to try to bring them back to life from memories he could only retrieve from words and photographs? He had seen the boy looking in the mirror of Erised and there had only been his parents standing with him and this was the boy's truest desire; not fame or glory or to be ultimately adored; but to have guidance, to have a family…_

_ And this woman was supposed to heal the boy; to give him what others couldn't and Severus had let that bother him for some reason. What was it to him? Did he think he could help the boy? Why couldn't he stop thinking such things, stop bothering with it, cease that expression that was engraved into his head? It was infuriating and pointless. He was a man of order and composure. He knew he was flawed and he knew where he had gone wrong in life and now this boy was making him second guess himself. Potter was a pest, a menace, a _nuisance _and that's all he should ever be…_

_ But Potter had sat in the rain on that damned creaky swing looking so miserable it made Severus feel _bad_ for the boy. The rain never touched Severus due to a repelling charm and he had once again been forced to follow the boy to the park. He hoped this wasn't a recurring thing. The rain had drenched him and the boy just sat there shivering and wallowing in his depression, his wretchedness. Then Severus witnessed Potter's fury, throwing the notepad down violently and tossing the swing away like it had burned him. Severus knew the boy was so very angry and he had no one, no one to bring him any kind of comfort. He knew the boy felt like he had been taken by fate's hand and exiled. Severus had to admit it had been difficult to watch the boy's solitude. Had he really been standing there feeling sorry for Potter?_

* * *

"Harry is making slow progress however he seems to be feeling better," Ms. Gardiner said as Severus sat on the couch again listening to her report about the boy's second session. "In most cases it only takes a few weeks to overcome a Conversion Disorder's symptoms…though it seems that Harry is a rarity in this…I believe that he will not get better any time soon. In the majority of patients one of the everlasting symptoms is blindness and the patient must accept that they will have to live with their disorder…"

"So you think its best that he begin to learn sign language?" Severus said in his velvety voice.

"I will not give Harry false hope so I thought it best to prepare him for the future," the woman answered and she was, thankfully, not smiling at Severus. "I'm sure he will pick it up easily with my help. I know Harry likes a challenge and likes things that are new to him so hopefully he will see it as something worthwhile."

Severus nodded slowly and glanced at the chalkboard that was now clear. He then let his eyes face Ms. Gardiner.

"Has the boy been crying?" Severus's words were still and detached.

"Yes, we tried to discuss the guilt Harry has been feeling and I know it is a feeling that has been a great weight on his heart," she said. "I'll just say…Harry didn't get very far, it is obvious how much love he had for the person he lost…"

Severus wondered if the woman knew exactly who the boy loved. She was a smart woman after all. Severus studied her: she was tall with fair skin, long brown hair and such dark green eyes shaded by long eyelashes. Many would label this woman beautiful or stunning but Severus couldn't help but feel distaste for her.

"It's hard to see such a kind face look so pained…"

Severus was brought out of his thoughts about the woman when she had said this. She wasn't looking at him but out the big windows of the tiny room. The sunlight poured over both of them. Yes, most people would say this woman was beautiful.

"Harry is…very kind…" she continued and Severus felt as if he should leave. But she turned to face him as she still sat with her legs crossed. "I thought he would hate being here, I thought he would hate me…Most patients feel uncomfortable with therapy and psychiatrists and they come into my room already feeling that I am untrustworthy but Harry, he has hope here…"

"Well…I should go now…" Severus was about to stand but Ms. Gardiner was not finished:

"Do you think Harry to be kind, Professor Snape?"

"And what concern is it to you of what I think of Potter?" Severus said somewhat harshly. This woman was aggravating.

"It's a simple question, Professor…"

There was no doubt in the man's mind that he hated this woman.

"Yes…Potter is blindly kind, an attribute that almost always puts him in the most disastrous circumstances…" Severus forced out, "…or perhaps the better word being _naïve._"

"Well Professor, I do wish you to have a lovely afternoon," Ms. Gardiner said and the woman was smiling, _smiling _and Severus wished he could curse the smile off her fair face.

Severus stood quickly and left the room with much haste.

* * *

"On your feet, Potter!" Severus snapped at the boy when he arrived at the waiting room. Thankfully the boy had managed to not doze off again.

Potter stood quickly albeit more than surprised by his sudden order. The boy scrambled to pick up his books, his nervousness only helped him to drop the thin one on top and Severus's glare could have burned a hole into the boy's head. "Give me those _now._"

The boy stood up with all of the books in hand and Severus swiped them up quickly. The waiting room once again had very few people and the desk lady was nowhere in sight. Severus took his wand out quickly and he was amused at the boy's sudden worry etched on his face as if the man were going to set the books aflame but all he did was shrink them to a pocket size and hand the tiny pile over to the boy.

"Put them in your pocket, Mr. Potter so we can go," he ordered again.

The boy did so and the two headed towards the brightly lit front door, Potter having to hurry his paces to keep up with Severus. Once through the doors they stepped out of the old black glass surrounded by red-brick of the condemned building labeled: Purge and Dowse, Ltd. The boy quickly glanced back at the mannequin that always let them inside to St. Mungo's. He was probably confused that they hadn't Dissaparated from inside the hospital.

Severus started to look around the streets feeling more annoyed by the passing second. There were muggle shops everywhere and people were going about their daily business, enjoying the bright summer day. There was too much chatter and Severus longed to sit down in his study and read. The traffic congestion was all too much to bear at the moment because of the honking. His eyes finally spotted a diner across the street and a bit further down; it looked simple enough.

He turned to the boy who was busy watching cars pass and people bustling about. A small group of teenage girls had spotted Potter and were giggling as they past the boy, not noticing Severus at all.

"Mr. Potter," he finally said and the boy turned to look at him quickly. "Are you hungry?"

The befuddled expression on Potter's face was more than worth the amount of frustration he had felt today.

* * *

**I hope you liked this chapter even though it was short. The next chapter should be much longer and interesting. Once again thank you for reading and I hope you are looking forward to the next one. : )**


	6. Chapter 5: In a Fish Bowl

**Chapter 5: In a Fish Bowl **

Harry thought himself to be dreaming. Here he was sitting across from Professor Snape in a restaurant to have lunch with him. This was all too surreal. No matter how hard Harry tried his eyes couldn't accept what he was seeing and Snape didn't seem to think it too out of the ordinary which didn't help how nervous Harry was.

Harry knew this wasn't Snape's idea; that was perfectly obvious. Dumbledore must have ordered this from him. It was just the scene of it all: The elegant diner was rather large with comfortable white booths with black cushioning and shiny dark wooden tables set to the right when one walked in. The center tables were round and had black metal chairs with the same black cushioning. To the left side of the diner there were booths set to be a part of the walls with chairs to partner with them and their grouped tables; this made up most of the wall leading to the very back where Harry guessed led to the kitchen.

The restaurant's walls were made of white brick and the wooden floor was so clean it reflected the ceiling lights. Wide windows let the sun shine through giving the restaurant a view of the London streets outside. The black lamps hung to the left of the diner while tiny lights were placed in the ceiling itself above where Harry sat.

Harry and Snape had walked into the quiet place and were greeted by the hostess who seated them. He had sat gingerly, his back facing the end of the restaurant while Snape's faced the entrance and bar area. There were quite a few diners seated here and there enjoying their meals and more guests had followed in after Harry and Snape. There was soft music playing but Harry hardly noticed; he was becoming fidgety because Snape wasn't saying anything. He had practically led Harry by his arm the whole way here.

A pretty woman with pale skin and dark hair and blue eyes dressed in a short black skirt, black high heels, and a white blouse came up to them within moments carrying small menu booklets. Her silver nametag read:_ Kim_. Harry was grateful there were no flowers in the center of the table like some of the others.

"Good afternoon," she greeted them with a big smile; her red lipstick stuck out and Harry gave a weak smile back. She placed the menus down before them one at a time. "I'll be back shortly."

"Thank you," Professor Snape said with no emotion.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be real, there was no way. Harry wanted to pinch himself, to call out Snape and accuse him of being an imposter, maybe someone under the Polyjuice Potion or maybe he really was asleep, maybe he had fallen asleep in the waiting room again and none of this was real. Harry felt like he was floating; maybe he was having one of those out of body experiences…

"_Mr. Potter!_" Snape snapped at him in a whispered hiss which made Harry jump. "Would you please do your best to pay _attention _and stop gawking, or do you like strangers staring at you?"

He stared at Snape who was in muggle clothes, whose hair was washed, who didn't look that annoyed. He tried to focus, he tried to respect the situation and accept it for what it was. Snape was really sitting here in this booth with Harry in a nice restaurant waiting to eat lunch with him. Harry swallowed hard.

_This isn't a dream… _Harry thought.

Harry took out his notepad and pen and wrote quickly with a shaky hand:

_Professor Dumbledore wanted __this__? _He underlined _this_ and slid the notebook toward Snape.

"Well of course this is on Professor Dumbledore's wishes, Potter," Snape said in a low voice. "Did you think I would do this on my own accord?"

Harry wrote his reply:

_Not ever…_

Snape smirked somewhat and said:

"We are here to make sure you get fed since you seem to always grow much too thin over the summer, we are to do this after every session and expect some sort of deliverance from Molly Weasley in the near future, Mr. Potter._ Elbows_ off the table."

Harry slid his arms and hands under the table to rest on his knees.

"Figure out what you would like to eat then write it down as well as what you would like to drink," Snape ordered as he took up the menu and opened it and began to read the lunch section.

Harry took his pen and pad again and wrote:

_But I haven't any muggle money.._

Upon reading his words Snape looked at Harry, giving him a sharp glare.

"I am aware of this Mr. Potter," the professor said tightly. "Now decide what you would like to eat."

Harry opened the menu and read what the restaurant had to offer. There were many things listed in different categories such as: sandwiches, soups, burgers, steaks. There was a section for entrees and side dishes as well as desserts written in small black fine printed font. Harry saw that the name of the restaurant was: _The Fish Bowl. _Harry looked around once again and wondered why the restaurant was called such an odd name seeing as how there weren't many fish items on the menu and the place seemed nice, tranquil and very tidy and in order.

Harry finally decided what he wanted as Snape was sitting there with his hands folded on top the menu and he began to write it down. It was soon after that the waitress was coming over with two glasses of water with lemon slices. She set them down gently.

She took out a small black leather notepad of her own and a small gold pen. The waitress named Kim said:

"Are you two gentlemen ready?" She was smiling brightly. The light from the ceiling reflected off her black headband.

"Yes, I believe," Snape said and she turned to look at Harry who had suddenly grown nervous again and his thoughts froze up.

"Forgive me, he can't speak though he can hear you," Snape said somewhat gently to the woman. "I'll order for him."

Harry gave Snape a sudden glance as his hands were atop his notepad.

"Oh," the woman said quickly and Harry could see that she had to stop herself from apologizing, her smile had faded and her eyes held an emotion that Harry couldn't understand. Finally she turned to face Snape.

"I will have the French Onion Soup please," Professor Snape said to the woman.

Harry's eyes widened and his body tensed up; he quickly grabbed his pen but in his haste knocked it off the table instead. He went to grab for it quickly as the waitress asked:

"Ok and what sort of dressing would you like on the side salad?" She was penning Snape's order down.

"Vinaigrette please," answered Snape and he reached for Harry's notepad just has Harry's right hand did with a loud smacking sound. It seemed to all happen in slow motion as Harry's heart pounded. They grabbed either end at the same time and Snape was giving Harry such a look that made his cheeks burn. Harry was pulling at the pad with all his might as was Snape though he wasn't clenching his jaw like Harry nor had a shaking hand like Harry's. Those black eyes were stern, searing through Harry's blue ones that were shining, praying for Snape to let go but the man was stronger and Harry was surprised that the notepad hadn't ripped in two. Snape freed the thing from Harry's hand. The waitress had been watching their silent struggle the whole time and her face looked somewhat comical but she waited on them patiently.

The man looked like he would want nothing more than to murder Harry. Harry watched hopelessly as Snape read what he had wanted for his order; the paper was slightly crumpled making his messy penmanship even messier:

_- French Onion Soup_

_-Vinaigrette dressing on the salad _

_-Coca-Cola for the drink _

Harry saw the look in Snape's eyes and how the man had tried to fight the small smirk that came upon his face. Harry felt his cheeks burn with sudden embarrassment.

"He will have the French Onion Soup as well with Vinaigrette on the side salad and a…_Coca-Cola _to drink," Snape said and he handed Harry back the notepad which Harry took, unable to meet the man's eyes.

"Two of a kind, eh?" the waitress said smiling brightly at the two.

This comment made Harry's face flush even more. If only he could disappear instead of being stuck in the most unlikely of situations. In his head Harry cursed Dumbledore loudly.

"And what can I get for you to drink?" she asked Snape who replied as Harry sipped at his water for his mouth had gone very dry.

"An ice tea please," the Potions Master ordered and grabbed both of their menus. Harry watched as he gave them to the waitress who took them.

"Alright, your meal should be ready soon," the waitress named Kim said with a cheery tone.

Snape had given the girl a short nod and she left to the back of the restaurant. Harry turned his head to watch her go and noticed the 3 full-size mirrors at the end of aisle. Waiters and waitresses went in and out of the area bringing back finished dishes or bringing out meals to their guests. Harry turned to face Snape and he couldn't decide whether the man was angry with him or amused by his previous stunt.

The fact that Harry had picked out basically the exact same thing Snape had ordered disturbed him. He kept playing what had happened in his head over and over and he grew more humiliated by the second. He was more than mortified. But was it really such a big deal that he wanted the same thing as Snape? No matter how Harry tried to ratify the situation in his head it was no use. His brain just couldn't wrap itself around what had happened.

_So you ordered the same thing, it's not that bad, right? It doesn't mean you have something in common with him! Just stop worrying about it, why does it even matter what he thinks of you? He's a git and he's always insulting you and he hates you so stop feeling like this!_ _Pull yourself together, Harry! _

Harry's inner thoughts were raging inside his head and once again he wasn't hearing that Snape had been trying to get his attention until the man's right hand came before his face and he snapped his fingers quite loudly making his eyes goes cross-eyed for a moment and Harry flinched. He looked up to see the Potions Master leering dangerously at him.

"Honestly Mr. Potter, we are in a public place, the least you can do is _act _like you're paying attention instead of having that mindless expression fastened to your face," the man snapped at him in a harsh whisper.

Harry glared at him and took his pen and notepad and wrote hotly:

_I can't control it when I space out, sorry..it just happens.._

Snape read the message quickly and he looked up at Harry but there wasn't any annoyance in those dark eyes; it was kind of strange actually because the man looked like he felt remorse for Harry.

Harry cast his eyes down hastily and scribbled:

_What?_

Harry's eyes which felt tired traveled their way up from the notepad to his pen that was looking rather worse for wear, to the lemon slice on his drink which the sight of made his mouth tingle and his cheeks feel tight and then at last onto Snape who sat there with such a straight posture, his clothes looking pressed and formal, his washed hair caught in the light from above, dark locks falling to frame his somewhat thin face. Harry didn't know exactly how old Snape was but there weren't too many lines etched in the man's skin but those dark eyes looked much older than Harry's own. Harry stopped looking at the man because he suddenly felt self-conscious of himself and he straightened his gray cardigan and the collar of the shirt underneath.

"Stop fidgeting," Snape said instead of answering Harry's small question and Harry did, letting his hands fall onto the notepad and pen and he wrote too quickly:

_Sorry you have to do this.._

He didn't know what made him write it and he didn't know how he felt about the all too surreal situation he was in. Ron and Hermione would be absolutely stunned. But here was this man, Snape, the man who constantly insulted him, degraded him, the man who jeered on his godfather every chance he had gotten, but there was no blame in Harry's heart and where was the hatred? Maybe he had no more room in himself to hate anymore, or perhaps Snape didn't deserve to be hated. In fact when Harry thought about hating the man someone in his head said:

_But why? He didn't kill Sirius…Why hate him when hate just makes everything so dark inside you? _

And the hate wasn't there, he didn't hate this man, he didn't know how he felt about Snape but hate, it just didn't exist at the moment.

"Here you are," the waitress named Kim said happily coming over to them with a black serving tray and she placed down two white plates filled with green salad topped with crumbled croutons and drizzled with their chosen vinaigrette dressing. She placed down two sets of folded white cloth napkins with glistening silverware. She set down Snape's iced tea and Harry's Coke. "Two salads with vinaigrette dressing, one iced tea and one Coke, now is there anything else I can get you two while your meals are being prepared?"

"No, thank you," Snape replied.

"Alright, enjoy your salads and those French Onions will be out soon," she smiled brightly and walked off to check on another table.

The chatter in the restaurant was different to Harry since most of the people in here were adults; it wasn't like the Great Hall where there were shouts and laughter all around. No, this wasn't Hogwarts but Snape was here; Harry could just not feel comfortable.

Snape had taken his cloth napkin and folded it neatly onto his lap. Harry thought it was best that he should do the same so he mimicked the man apprehensively. He couldn't understand how Professor Snape acted so calm as if this was an everyday occurrence. Harry took up his fork at the same time Snape did. His hand was shaking again but he steadied it and started to eat, trying not to look up. How could he be embarrassed to eat in front of Snape? He ate at the Gryffindor table three times a day at Hogwarts, so what if it wasn't exactly in front of him? He had seen the man eat before from afar with too many mannerisms but how different were the two really?

Oh it was maddening to sit there and feel so self-conscious while he chewed his salad slowly, making sure his mouth was closed and his eyes were locked on his plate. He was very hungry but he couldn't shovel the food in his mouth like he had done plenty of times in unison with Ron when they had showed up to dinner completely starved. No, he had to eat slowly and have a refined look about him like Snape had:

_Don't stare at Snape! _he practically screamed in his head.

Harry almost choked on his salad and quickly took a drink of water.

"Potter, relax," Snape said quietly as he set down his fork. "It's just a lunch, does it really matter if it _is_ me that you're having this _lunch_ with?"

Harry took his napkin and wiped his mouth slowly and placed it back on his lap. He took his pen and paper, having it at an awkward position to avoid his salad plate, and wrote:

_Sorry sir, it's just quite weird I guess.._

Snape read the line and said:

"Listen Mr. Potter, if it puts you at some sort of ease, I don't mind as much as you think having _you_ for company while I eat my lunch. However, if you find this situation to be too stressful for you I am more than capable of informing the Headmaster that you wish to cease these _appointments_ with me."

It was strange because Snape sounded like he was somewhat offended and that made Harry feel all the more embarrassed but he wrote in reply:

_It's fine, it doesn't matter, it's just lunch. _

"Then eat, Mr. Potter," Snape said after he read Harry's words.

So he ate. It was difficult at first to push down his nervousness but the salad was good and he finished it all soon enough before Snape was finished. It was at this time that the waitress came over with their French Onion Soups in rather large classic ramekin bowls. They were steaming and the scent of the soups wafted under Harry's nose; they smelled delicious. She set the soups down with ease. They were atop white plates with a side of two slices of buttered baguettes. The French Onion Soup looked as delicious as it smelled. The Gruyere cheese was melted perfectly atop two more baguette slices and the soup.

She took away their salad plates and said with a cheerful voice:

"Please enjoy and if there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

Harry picked up his spoon gingerly as the waitress left. Snape had already begun to eat. The taste was delectable; Harry tried to eat without getting anything on him which had proved difficult at times but it seemed luck was on his side this afternoon. Harry wondered what time it was when he swallowed another bite of the delicious soup.

"Is it to your liking, Mr. Potter?" Snape's velvety voice reached Harry's ears.

He wondered if there had been any sarcasm in the question but there wasn't surprisingly and Harry nodded in reply and actually smiled somewhat at Professor Snape. Had he ever smiled at the man before? He couldn't remember.

This time Snape had finished before him and Harry ate a bit quicker to not keep the man waiting. He finally finished and wiped his mouth once more on his napkin. It was only a few seconds before the waitress came over and asked them:

"How was it?"

"Very good, thank you," Snape answered.

"Would you like any dessert?" She had with her two small menu cards which Harry could only guess had a list of their desserts.

Harry thought he would like to enjoy something sweet since it had been a while since he had eaten any kind of chocolate or sweets but he doubted the Potions Master would want to stay here more than what was required of him.

However surprisingly Snape said:

"I'm sure we would."

"Lovely, here are our choices for today."

She placed the small menus in front of Snape and Harry. Harry looked quickly at the list. There were many desserts and Harry probably would have enjoyed most of them but only one thing seemed to make him smile on the list: A treacle tart served with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream.

"I would like the Honey Blancmange please," Snape said.

"That's popular here," she said as she wrote the dessert order down and she turned to Harry who looked up at her diffidently because she was quite pretty and pointed to the treacle tart.

"Is that your favorite?" she asked sweetly as she wrote it down.

Harry nodded.

"I can tell by your smile," she said and she was grinning at Harry but she turned to Snape and said: "You've got quite a handsome son here. I'll be back shortly with your desserts." And she left, taking their plates with her.

Harry felt the color drain from his face. Those few words were hammering in his head and he couldn't bear to face Snape. What did his face look like? What was Snape's reaction to those words that Harry couldn't believe came out of the waitress's mouth? Harry was staring at his hands on his lap, his body slightly turned from having faced the waitress only a moment ago. And then with a heavy feeling in his chest he looked to Professor Snape and was shocked to see the man's calm face. In fact, it looked as if Snape was the one to have spaced out this time.

Harry sat there in the silence, the sounds of the other guests and the faint, soft music not reaching him. His eyes shined as they caught the sunlight. He really couldn't remember the sound of his voice. He tried to think of memories where he had shouted or laughed but even in those his voice echoed with an unfamiliar quality. What were the last words he _had _spoken? He couldn't remember. What had happened in the Ministry was all a blur, there were only a few clear memories of what had happened that night and they seemed to play back in Harry's head.

_Don't you care? _The thought seemed to come from someplace distant in his mind. _Don't you care that she thought I was your son? _

Harry didn't know what to feel. He didn't feel bad, he didn't feel disgusted, he just felt confused and embarrassed. What was Snape thinking? In that mind that no matter how hard he tried he could never reach back then. And he couldn't reach it now.

"Are you still taking Dreamless Sleep?"

Harry shook his head automatically having just caught the man's question and Harry wrote down:

_I still have nightmares though._

"And you're not…seeing…"

Harry scribbled down something very fast:

_I haven't seen anything from __Vol__ from him. _He had crossed out Vol quickly.

_Not since Sirius. _Harry thought. _But Voldemort still prowls in my dreams. _

"I see…" was all Snape said.

The waitress named Kim came back soon enough with their desserts. She set them down before the two of them. Snape's Honey Blancmange was small and on a tiny white plate. The white creamy gelatin glistened and was topped with slices of strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. Harry's treacle tart looked fresh. Harry noticed he was given an extra scoop of vanilla ice cream on his plate.

"Enjoy," the waitress said and she gave Harry a wink and was off to the back again.

As soon as Harry ate a bite of the treacle tart he felt much better. The sweetness of it made Harry smile softly and the filling was delicious. He ate it quickly but he savored every bite. When he was finished Harry drank the rest of his Coca-Cola and realized he was quite full now; fuller than he had been since his last night at Hogwarts. Harry glanced up at Snape who was also done with his dessert. Harry took his notepad and pen and wrote:

_Thank you for lunch, Professor. _

Snape read Harry's note and said:

"Indeed."

The waitress had come not long after that with their bill and Snape had taken out a small black leather wallet to Harry's surprise and from within it pulled out two £50 notes. He put the notes into the bill folder and stood up and placed his napkin on the table.

"Don't you want your change, sir?" she asked quickly.

"Keep the change," Snape answered and Harry stood up as well, placing his napkin on the table.

"Oh well thank you, I hope you enjoyed everything," she said.

"Yes, good day miss," Snape said and walked toward the entrance area and Harry followed quickly on shaky legs for they had been sitting for a while.

The hostess smiled at them as they were walking to the shiny black doors.

"Please come again, have a good evening."

And it was then that Harry turned his head to see that the hostess was taking out a small container. There, right on the large black wooden shelf beside the sitting booth was a fish bowl. The glass was clear as was the water. There were tiny red pebbles at the bottom and a small plastic cave. Swimming round and round in the bowl were two small fish: one black and one white. The hostess sprinkled a bit of food in the bowl and the two fish danced about the falling pieces of fish food, enjoying their lunch. Harry couldn't help but smile and he and Snape walked out into the sunlight.

* * *

When Harry stepped through the front door of the Dursleys he could hear that his aunt was home and so was Dudley. The TV was on. He carried his books that Snape had put back to normal with a quick tap of his wand. Harry saw that it was 2:30PM from the clock in the kitchen. He hurried up to his room and when he got inside, closing the door behind him, he saw the two letters on his small desk. He hurried over to them. Hedwig was on her perch, sleeping soundly. He put down the stack of books. The letters were of course from Ron and Hermione and Harry opened Ron's first:

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? I'm fine, Dad's been working late at the ministry this week and Mum's still worried about you. Can't wait till you get to stay over here. That's some rotten luck that you have to be stuck with Snape to take you to your sessions. Hermione reckons we should be getting out O.W.L.s any day now, I really wish she would stop worrying so much, it's getting to me and Mum seems worried about it too. I hope she doesn't expect that great of results from me. It's good that your first session went well. I really hope you get your voice back soon. Well, that's all I really have to say for now. It's been boring without you mate. _

_-Ron_

Harry opened Hermione's:

_Dear Harry, _

_I hope you are doing well and it was good to hear from you. I also hope you are feeling better. Don't worry, you're voice will return, it'll be ok. _

_ I'm sorry that Professor Snape has to be the one to take you to your therapy sessions. Don't let him get to you though Harry, you don't need the stress. Your therapist must be rather witty if she reminds you of me. Only joking. Please keep me updated about how you are feeling; you can always talk to Ron and me about anything. We miss you Harry, I hope we will get to see you soon. _

_With love, _

_Hermione_

Harry smiled as he held the two letters and he placed them down and took a couple rolls of parchment to write their return letters. Harry sat at his desk; the treacle tart's taste lingered on his tongue. Harry wrote:

_Dear Ron,_

_ I'm fine, I miss playing Quidditch though and I can't wait to see you guys. Why has your dad been working late? I hope things are going well for you. I'm starting to worry about our O.W.L.s. If I don't get an O in Potions I can't get into Snape's N.E.W.T. class which I need to become an Auror. Speaking of Snape, I have to have lunch with him every time after my sessions. I guess Dumbledore wants me to not be so skinny. I had to go today with him. We went to a place called The Fish Bowl right by the entrance to the hospital. The food was good but it was too weird to eat like that with Snape! Wonder how you would have been in that situation. Snape didn't seem too angry to have to eat with me though. Anyway, things aren't so bad but I really want to go see you guys soon. I really need a good laugh but maybe me having lunch with Snape will give you a good one. _

_-Harry _

_Oh. I almost forgot; my therapist wants me to learn sign language, ask Hermione what it is if you don't know. _

And on to the next he wrote:

_Dear Hermione,_

_ I really miss you. I am feeling better even though now Professor Dumbledore is making Snape take me to lunch after each of my sessions. I had lunch with Snape in a muggle restaurant! It's called The Fish Bowl and its right by the entrance to St. Mungo's. It was weird; I wish I could see the look on your face when you read this. The food was good though but Snape eats really fancy-like. _

_ At my last session my therapist gave me some muggle books to learn sign language from, she's going to teach me as well..That made me feel sort of off put because maybe she thinks I won't get my voice back for a long time. I'm worried. I have nightmares still and I wish I wouldn't. I'm sure if I were to spend some time with you and Ron they might go away for a while. Really hoping I will get to see you two soon. Pray that I get an O in Potions and have a knack for sign language. _

_-Harry _

Harry quickly put them into envelopes and sealed and addressed them. He woke Hedwig gently and gave her the letters. She nipped at his finger affectionately and took off out the window. Harry sat down on his bed and unbuttoned his cardigan and slipped it off. His mind kept playing the events of what had happened in _The Fish Bowl_. His eyes fell upon the books but his heart wasn't in it to open them just yet. Opening them meant accepting that he might not get his voice back for a long time.

He was alone now with the taste of treacle tart being proof that he had lunch with Snape. It would have been funny perhaps when time went on. Sitting there as he was Harry could feel the familiar weight on his shoulders and in his heart. He was guilty of more than just Sirius's death. Harry couldn't take his mind off the memory he had seen in the Pensieve that day. His father had been a bully to Snape and Remus and Sirius had told him that Snape had done things as well to provoke his father but that memory, the awful embarrassment he still felt bothered Harry to no end. He felt sorry for Snape; he knew that. He also felt ashamed of his father even though he hadn't known him. Why did his mother fall in love with his father? She seemed to have despised him in Snape's memory.

And Harry remembered how angry Snape had been; he had been embarrassed as well, maybe even scared because Harry knew such a thing. It was eating away at him and he begged for it to stop. Then Harry had an idea; it was a dangerous idea but he held onto it as he grabbed another piece of blank parchment and sat down at his desk. Going to lunch with Snape had been something definitely out of the ordinary for Harry; writing Snape an apology letter could possibly top that.

It took him a while to actually find the words before he began to write them with a trembling hand that he tried to keep strong:

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_ I'm writing this letter to you because I need to face things that are difficult to face right now. I know this letter might mean absolutely nothing to you and please don't think that I expect you to forgive me for what I did. I wanted to blame you for Sirius's death and I feel guilty because of that and I know no one knows about that but I feel like I should tell you. I know it was my fault. _

_ You know..a lot of the things you say about me are true. I can be arrogant and selfish and I don't think before I do a lot of things, I'm rash and I don't listen to what I should listen to. I break the rules a lot and I've lied to you. But I really don't try to impress people like my father. I really could care less about popularity or how others see me. I don't like how so many people rely on me. I'm not asking for you to see this in me, I'm not asking you to stop referencing my father to myself, nor am I asking for you to stop seeing me as him. I understand why you do such things. _

_ I want you to know that I will never tell a soul about that memory. I was angry at myself for thinking it fine to just help myself to your memories. I was curious but I was stupid. You deserve respect and your privacy. I just wanted to apologize for doing such a thing. That memory sir, that memory made me think that after all these years you probably weren't just saying those bad things about my father to insult me or make me angry. And now I know and I'm ashamed but also, do you really think me such a person to do those things as well? The things my father did to you? Because I'm not like that, sir, I wouldn't attack someone that way, make them feel like that. _

_ I am sorry, I am very sorry for what I did and if this makes you angry I'm sorry for that too but this guilt is too much for me and I need to do this, I need to let this out and I would say these words out loud to you if I could, I'm sure you know that. No matter how much you hate me sir, no matter how much I disliked you I want you to know I'd never want such a thing to happen to you. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. _

_ Please try to read this letter knowing that I need to say these things before they rip me up inside. It hurts to feel like this, sir. I don't want to compare you with me and I don't want to try to understand you. I'm sorry that I remind you of my father, that I remind you of such things that maybe you'd rather forget. I'm sorry and I don't want to be forgiven, I just want, I need to tell you these things. _

_-Harry Potter _

Harry wiped the warm tears from his eyes with his sleeve. With shaking hands he folded the letter neatly and placed it in an unmarked envelope. Maybe it was a mistake to write it but Harry, with his quivering heart, could feel something inside himself tear away, something he had been holding on to for too long and the shame and the disappointment seemed to hide themselves into a place in his mind he didn't bother to look for.

He sat there for a while as his clock read: 5:00 PM. He had used the restroom and washed his face. Harry's hands took the heaviest book from his desk and opened it. He was going learn to speak with his hands and some day he _was_ going to find his voice.

* * *

**Hope everyone enjoyed that chapter. The next will be up tomorrow. I hope you all like The Fish Bowl, I suppose it's an awkward name for a restaurant. Thank you again for reading and please review if you have the time. : )**


	7. Chapter 6: Deliverance

**Chapter 6: Deliverance **

Over the next few days Harry had spent most of his waking hours learning British Sign Language. He had drowned himself into learning the new subject even though he found it at first to be very difficult. He had started with the BSL alphabet and it was easy enough to get the hang of after a couple of hours practice; Harry had then moved onto spelling on his hands which took quite some time to get used to because his hands got stiff and he had trouble concentrating. It was very frustrating especially since he had to teach himself for the time being. Moving onto words and phrases was where Harry grew even more frustrated. The first few chapters of the books had step by step instructions and detailed pictures showing how to express each word and phrase. There were basic categories like days of the week, months of the year, numbers and counting, time frame, basic questions and answers, introductory phrases and how to tell people certain things about oneself.

One of the books had suggested practicing in front of a mirror so Harry managed to find a small mirror (taking it from Dudley's room, he doubted the boy would notice) and it helped immensely. Harry found it rather odd to stand there in his room with the mirror on his desk practicing over and over the alphabet, spelling with the alphabet, many words as well as phrases. He did this for hours; even sitting on the floor taking notes down on parchment and reading through each introductory stage of the books and workbook. It was worse than studying for his O.W.L. Harry really had to force himself to concentrate for hours on end even when he grew annoyed and irritated, standing there, shaking his hands to loosen them up and taking deep breaths to try and focus. He wound up pacing back and forth in his small room trying to have a conversation with himself and facing the mirror.

Harry tried to remember that BSL required a lot of facial expressions and body gestures because without this sometimes what you wanted to say wouldn't be perceived clearly enough or even be lost in translation. It was almost like a backwards way of speaking to Harry because BSL usually started with the subject you desired to talk about and then going further to say something about the subject. Harry also had to remember lip patterns which frustrated him to no end. BSL required one to mouth some words when one would communicate with sign language but not others that did not need the emphasis for the word or the sign. It took a while for him to understand this because he was only going off books; he wished he had Ms. Gardiner here to teach him already because he wasn't all too sure he was signing correctly.

His facial expressions at first weren't even there when he would sign in front of the mirror because he was shy and he felt it rather silly but he pushed himself. Obviously there was no one there to watch him so it wasn't too hard to express the emotions through the signing. Harry kept second guessing himself, always thinking he wasn't getting it right and he practiced, not caring about the time or if he was hungry. He wanted to get past his crutch; he wanted to prove to himself that he could learn BSL and communicate with Ms. Gardiner more effectively than words on paper. Harry felt like Hermione because he was taking so many notes and writing out definitions to remember them more efficiently. He couldn't believe he was managing to study the language so hard and not be off put like when it came to homework. Harry was determined.

It was slow progress but Harry was surprised that he was able to get the hang of the basics quick enough and even though it was awkward to come up with conversations with himself to practice he was surprised at how creative he could be at it. He pretended to meet someone new and had to ask many questions like their name, where they lived, what they liked to do (this was a bit difficult because Harry had trouble remembering adjectives and adverbs and how to sign them), he also came up with an argumentative conversation which required a lot of facial expressions and body language. He was slow at it and had to stop to look up things in the books and his notes but as time went on Harry's signing stepped up in pace, he was still pausing a lot but his hands seemed to know most of the time where they should go which amazed him. It was as if it was almost becoming second nature to them, well for the basics anyway but when Harry wasn't sleeping or eating or helping his aunt with chores around the house he was studying and practicing, sometimes until late into the night. No matter how mad or frustrated he became he kept at it. It was a new part of him, learning something new because of his condition.

He had changed since Sirius died, he knew that. He was always thinking about things that he could not control, the bad things, things that were out of his reach. He thought about Snape, he wondered if the man could be trusted because Dumbledore trusted him and he did not know why. He thought about his mother and father and what they would think of him, not just because he was mute now but who he was, what he had done, was this what they had hoped for when he was a baby? He knew it was obvious that they wanted him to have a wonderful childhood and to be happy but it had taken a while for that and now, at times, he was happy but Voldemort had taken what had made him hopeful: that he would be able to have a family after all this, he had taken Sirius and what made it all too much was that Harry was to blame no matter the connecting factors of what had happened that night or throughout the year.

It echoed inside him, the moment where Sirius fell through the Veil and how much it had hurt, a pain that he could never describe no matter how old he became. It was no good to dwell on the past but Harry just couldn't see the way out. What light had been inside of him was dim and flickering like a torch in a blizzard. Some moments when he would space out or forget where he was he could see Sirius when he was alive: sitting and talking to him, smiling and for a moment he was lost in it all and he prayed that it was reality instead of a daydream that was fading away. Sirius wasn't his father but for small moments that meant everything to Harry; it was like he did have a father and that day in Grimmauld Place when Sirius had told him he was a good person and that they would be a proper family when it was all over, Harry saw that fatherly figure there. But there was a moment when it had been time to leave when Sirius gave him the mirror that Harry might have thought it was the last time he would ever see Sirius but it had been quick, gone before it was even truly there; Harry guessed it was intuition or something he couldn't explain.

Harry thought of the letter as well and how anxious it made him, how nervous he was to give it to Snape. He was having a war within his head: at some times in the day he would decide he would give it to Snape and at others he decided he wasn't and it was maddening. The letter lay untouched on his desk as neat as it could possibly be since the man liked things neat. Harry also thought of his birthday, it was growing near which meant there would only be one more month after that till he had to go back to Hogwarts and for the first time in his life he truly didn't want to go back.

It was Tuesday in the early afternoon and Harry was outside in the driveway under the hot sun washing his uncle's car. The sun burned his neck and arms again as he scrubbed away; the hose was on the ground and the bucket of soapy water and a few towels and paper towels for the windows. Harry was rather good at cleaning since he had been doing it for so long. As he sprayed the car down to get off the suds and whatnot he thought about how hot it was outside and his sweaty face and damp t-shirt that had gotten wet from the car. Even though it was so hot, even if the sun was blazing, the warmth could not reach the iciness in his heart that had been there since the night in the hospital wing. He wished it could, he wished the heat would melt the pain there and fill the hole that had been where his godfather was. But it was no good to him to think of depressing things even though his potion made him a bit more aware and made him feel more alive.

When the car was done it literally gleamed from being so clean and the windows were clear and spotless. Harry nodded and figured the job done. He cleaned up the driveway and rolled the hose back up and went inside. His aunt was in the kitchen making some sort of dessert for tonight. Harry had forgotten they were to have company over. Harry quietly made himself a sandwich and glass of iced lemonade making sure to put everything back exactly where it had been. He went upstairs to his room and ate quickly. He then started to practice BSL again. It was very handy to take his mind off most things. But it was then that Hedwig had come in a long with another tiny owl. It was Pigwidgeon who was now flying around carelessly and speedily carrying its letter. Hedwig seemed offended at the display once again proud to show how a real owl carrier should do its job and Harry took her letter first that was from Hermione. Hedwig also had a parcel with her and Harry thought it must have been more of Mrs. Weasley's meat pies and pastries which Harry had more than enjoyed to have. He took the parcel and then with great difficulty finally snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and confiscated Ron's letter. The little owl got some water (which Hedwig didn't like) and was out the window in seconds. Harry shook his head and sat down to read Ron's first:

_Dear Harry,_

_Blimey mate, lunch with Snape! In a muggle restaurant? I can't believe it, it must have been torture, it would have been torture for me, what's Dumbledore thinking?!_

_Dad's been working late because there've been a lot more raids recently. Sorry it took me this long to reply. I had asked Hermione what sign language was and she explained it to me, I sort of understand it. And mum made me clean my room and denome the yard again and clean out the shed, she's been making me do all sorts of chores because Fred and George are so busy. Ginny told me to tell you that she misses you and hopes you are doing ok. She seemed worried because Snape's been taking you to your sessions. Mum's sending a long some food again. She was saying something about your birthday party being over here and that she already sent a message to Dumbledore. Well, I hope you have been feeling ok and aren't having it too bad. It seems like this summer is going by too slow, do you feel the same way? I think Hermione might be losing it over waiting for the O.W.L. results, I actually had a nightmare where I got mine and I got Troll on everything; do you think that's what Hermione has every night? _

_Well I guess that's all for now, hope to see you soon._

_-Ron_

Harry set the letter aside and opened Hermione's:

_Dear Harry,_

_ I just can't believe our O.W.L. results aren't here yet; I don't know how long I can wait before writing a letter to Dumbledore. I am hoping for your O in Potions. It's good that you're learning sign language, it will be useful. I hope your sessions are going alright. I was definitely surprised that you have to have lunch with Snape after every session; it's rather odd that Snape would agree to do something like that. I've never been to that restaurant but the name sounds interesting. _

_ I'm sorry you are having nightmares. I really do hope we get to see you soon Harry, it's been 5 weeks, I know Mrs. Weasley is asking if you can have your birthday party at The Burrow so hopefully then we will be able to see each other. I'm supposed to go to The Burrow this weekend. Well I suppose that's all for now. Hope to see you soon, take care._

_With love, _

_Hermione _

_P.S. Besides your birthday present I have a surprise for you! _

Harry read the last line and wondered just what exactly Hermione's surprise would be. He smiled though at his friends' letters, they would never write this much before to each other over the summer because usually they were still together soon after their vacation had started but Harry supposed it was because of what had happened and because of the death of Sirius; none-the-less Harry was smiling. He opened Mrs. Weasley's parcel and sure enough it contained her meat pies, pastries, and some cookies she had made herself. Harry enjoyed a pastry as he sat on his bed.

He had only had one nightmare over the last few days and he wondered if it was because he was focusing so much on BSL to really dwell on the bad things and feelings. He had many different dreams though. One had involved him sitting in potions class trying to explain to a very angry Professor Snape on how his cauldron had transfigured itself into a fish bowl. Another he had of giant hands trying to swat at him as he ran from them in the darkness. He had one of Lupin and the man was shouting at him but Harry couldn't hear anything as he stood there and then Lupin had turned his back on him looking rather forlorn and Harry had tried to say he was sorry and call out to him but his voice would not work.

Harry sat there in the quiet of his room wondering what the future held. He wondered what the Order was doing but he tried not to think of Voldemort because he was afraid he would have a vision. He felt lonely and wished he had someone to talk to, someone here with him. Harry thought with humor he'd be able to communicate however slowly with deaf people now. And then for some reason he thought of Ms. Gardiner. He wondered because she was so young looking how old the woman was and she wasn't married because her suffix in front of her name was Ms. Harry could admit to himself with a little embarrassment that the woman was very beautiful and she was kind and patient with him. He didn't know her first name. Harry also thought of Ms. Gardiner's sister and what she was like and how she had lived with her handicap.

Harry didn't want to think of being deaf as a handicap though. Ms. Gardiner's sister was probably very smart like her. It was just an obstacle to overcome and once you overcame it there wasn't anything different about you, you were just like everyone else. So Harry practiced BSL for the rest of day and he could hear downstairs whatever guests the Dursleys had over and how they were laughing and talking loudly over dinner. Harry was reminded of Dobby and what had happened before 2nd Year began. Before long he was lying in bed but he could not sleep, he kept thinking of the letter and he should have waited to write it perhaps till today so he didn't have a week to stress over it. Harry closed his eyes and thought about what Snape would feel like once he had read the letter, if he would even bother opening it because it was from him. But before long he had fallen asleep.

* * *

He awoke to the sound of his alarm clock obnoxiously going off. Harry rolled over and turned the thing off and sat up in bed slowly. He signed to himself "_Good morning,_" sleepily and stretched. Harry went to the restroom and took a quick shower. He dressed in a thin cotton white shirt with sleeves that only went halfway down his arms and had a few white buttons leading up to the neckline of the shirt and dark blue jeans. He combed his hair and brushed his teeth; his hands were a bit shaky, he wondered if they would ever stop doing that. Harry knew he was more than nervous, his heart was already beating too fast and it didn't help his nerves at all when he entered his room again to see a tawny owl perched on his window seal with a large square envelope attached to his leg.

Before he could doubt it Harry knew what it was: his O.W.L. results. As he walked over to the owl he wondered if Hermione was having a panic attack at the moment. Harry, with trembling hands, untied the envelope slowly. He broke the wax seal and took out the folded parchment. He opened it and closed his eyes. His whole body was shaking now, his head slightly trembling. He opened his eyes finally and read:

_**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**_

_ Pass Grades Fail Grades_

_ OUTSTANDING (O) POOR (P)_

_ EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS (E) DREADFUL (D)_

_ACCEPTABLE (A) TROLL (T)_

_**Harry James Potter has achieved:**_

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Divination: P

Herbology: E

History of Magic: D

Potions: O

Transfiguration: E

Harry let out the breath he had been holding and read the results over several times. He didn't know how he had managed to get an O in Potions but he had managed it and there was strong relief there. He wondered if Snape knew. He had scraped up 7 O.W.L.s all together. He had known he would fail Divination seeing as how he hated the subject. He wondered if he would have gotten a passing grade in History of Magic if he hadn't passed out halfway through the examination. But he had gotten through it and now this year he was going to put more effort into each of his classes so that he could become an Auror. Harry folded the parchment feeling happy all of sudden and pocketed his results. He put his socks on and white trainers. He grabbed his wand, notepad and pen, pocketing them as well and then stood there in front of his desk looking at the letter.

He had never been the one to desire to spend time with Professor Snape or get to know him or even have a conversation with the man but this letter was something made up of that. It was an apology yes, but Harry felt as he picked the letter up carefully, that it was an outreach to a person who he had once hated, something of a simple association through the words he had written. Through these words he hoped they would give Snape something; he didn't know what that something was. He carefully put the letter in his back pocket and left his room.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Snape said to him when he had opened the door. Harry still wasn't used to the fact that the man was wearing muggle clothes: a dark blue long sleeve dress shirt with a black overcoat and dark gray slacks. Harry was used to the shiny black shoes though.

Harry closed and locked the door and faced the man and even though he was embarrassed he signed "Good morning," quickly yet confidently while mouthing the words. Professor Snape gave him an odd look but Harry knew he had understood what the sign meant.

"Well hurry up," Snape said and he started to walk off towards the sidewalk. Harry hurried to follow.

Snape's arm came out swiftly before Harry who took it and held on tensely. With a crack they Apparated to St. Mungo's.

* * *

Harry was a little tense when he entered Ms. Gardiner's office. She was standing in front of her desk organizing papers with her back to him. She wore thin dark blue robes with matching high heels; the ends of the dress-like robes were shorter, coming just past her knees. She turned to face him with a smile and said:

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry stood there a little awkwardly but he took in a deep breath and with all the confidence he could muster he signed clearly "Hello, good morning. How are you today?" He had mouthed the words and smiled.

Ms. Gardiner beamed at him. Harry had never seen her smile get so big and she quickly signed while saying out loud:

"I'm perfectly fine, that's wonderful Harry! You did so well!" she put her hands down and went over to him. "You've been practicing?"

Harry signed and mouthed: "Yes, every day. I'm still learning the basics. I'm so much slower than when you sign." It was difficult to remember the signs but he managed to pull it off and Ms. Gardiner understood.

"But really, Harry, you've only had a week and already you're doing so well."

Harry smiled at her compliment and signed: "Thank you."

They sat down in their usual spots. Harry took out his notepad and pen because he knew he couldn't really sign all that much, just basic things.

"I'm really happy that you've been studying; now I would like take the first thirty minutes to go over some reviews and some words with you that are not in those books because obviously we are a part of a different world so I have come up with some signs to refer to those words."

Harry nodded and for that half hour he showed her how much of the basics he knew and she showed him how to sign words like: Hogwarts, Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, class names like Herbology and Charms, and she told him how friends and family when using sign language make up signs to refer to each other's names, it was their own personal signs. Harry took down a few notes about the signs she taught him as well as the part about making up your own signs for names of your friends.

"My mother and sister sign my name as flower because I've always loved flowers and it has a connection to our surname, its a personal sign used in my family mostly. You can use it as well Harry," she said as she signed the word flower. "At the muggle office I work in because I know BSL I get a lot of patients who are deaf, they are also aware of my sign name but mostly refer to me as "doctor" or sign my initials."

Harry nodded.

_And flowers are pretty. _Harry thought to himself.

"Ok, I think that's enough for practicing BSL today, now we can move on," Ms. Gardiner said. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore gave me permission to start teaching you Occlumency."

Harry couldn't help but feel apprehensive. The lessons with Snape had been torture, it had been a real joke actually.

"Don't be discouraged Harry, I know Professor Snape's judgment of you hindered his way of teaching you Occlumency. It won't be difficult with me teaching you, honest. Even though Occlumency is a complicated skill to learn and master I'm sure you'll be able to study it with me, I've all the patience that Severus Snape does not and that's saying something," she said and she smiled at him. Harry was put at an ease because of her words. Of course she would be a better teacher than Snape.

"Alright, now first we are going to start by emptying the mind, letting go of everything and anything inside your head," she said and her voice was slow and steady. "I want you to lie down, arms at your side, close your eyes and breathe as if you were going to sleep."

Harry did so; the couch was more than long enough for him to lie down. He placed his arms flush with his body. He glanced at her before closing his eyes. He heard her stand up and move to his side. Soft hands removed his glasses; the slightest brush of her fingertips left a tingling trace on his skin.

"You are to listen to me only now, just my voice," she said and it was as if her voice was inside him instead of in the room. "Think of some place you love seeing, a place where you are just you and there is no one else. You're there and your eyes are closed and you can still tell where you are by the smell, the feel of it."

Harry thought of sitting in the Gryffindor common room by the fire. He had pictured Ron and Hermione with him but when she said he was alone they were gone suddenly and he knew the smell of the room, of the lit fire, feeling its warmth and the touch of the fabric of the cushion of the arm chair. He studied it, was lost and mesmerized by how easy it was to just do what she was telling him to do. He was no longer in her office. He felt comfortable, at ease, weightless, focused and soon the sound of his heart was loud, its rhythm slow, he felt all of himself even though he wasn't moving. He was just there, living and breathing and there was no one else, he was just there.

He didn't hear her footsteps as she walked over to her desk and pulled something out of a drawer: a small silver radio. She set it upon her desk and hit the play button. The sudden sound of the soft piano piece was a storm to Harry's senses.

"This is Chopin's Prelude Opus Twenty Eight, Number Four," Ms. Gardiner's voice came from somewhere. "Let it be you, let it fill you up completely as if you were breathing it…"

Harry didn't think, he could just feel the music and it restrained him and his mind. He was falling through it and it was washing over him and it was strange to not be able to think or form a word inside his head but it felt good and wherever he was he was there until the music ended.

"Ok, Harry, I want you to sit up slowly and open your eyes," she instructed him.

Harry did so as if he was a marionette puppet and he opened his heavy eyes. She placed his glasses back and sat back down in her chair. Harry faced her.

"Ok, I'm going to attempt to see into your mind Harry, I will go slowly and all I want you to do is block my presence out as if you were closing a door on me or building up a wall to keep me away, it should be very easy at first, remember Harry you're trying to hide your thoughts and memories away from me," Ms. Gardiner said in a light voice, not strict or cruel, just simple as if it were obvious.

Harry was ready. Ms. Gardiner took out her wand and raised it so it pointed at Harry and with such a soft face she could hardly be seen as threatening and Harry now knew why she was an Occlumens. Suddenly all Harry could see was blackness, a deep emptiness and nothing more and then the office swam back into view as well as Ms. Gardiner.

"Very good Harry, I was barely trying and there was nothing at the surface, I'm going to push a little harder now," she said and raised her wand once more.

The memories went past slowly like ink and they were blurred: _Harry was smiling as he read Hermione's letter. He was opening his O.W.L. results. He was writing the letter to Snape-_ and at once Harry stopped her from seeing anything else and there was blackness again, the strange void and the office appeared again and she was smiling at him.

"You blocked me out, Harry," she said and Harry felt overjoyed. Not once could he have done that without using accidental magic or falling over to the floor when Snape tried to teach him. He was just sitting perfectly fine. "Would you like to try again?"

Harry realized she was being gentle with him, taking the lesson step by step, something that Snape could never have done. He could never have sat there like Ms. Gardiner and waited and asked if he was ready or if he wanted to keep going. She was patient with him and Harry wanted to keep going so he nodded.

She raised her wand again and once more the memories went on:

_He was practicing how to sign in front of a mirror. He was spraying down his uncle's soapy car; droplets of water feeling good on his face. _And there was darkness and the emptiness and then the office and the sunlight that spilled over them both.

"Very good, Harry, you got me out quicker and I was trying harder as well," Ms. Gardiner said. "But that's it for Occlumency today, it's not good to strain the mind at first, you need to let it rest or you'll grow anxious and tired."

Harry nodded and signed quickly and clearly: "You're a good teacher."

Her smile that branded her face grew and she said: "Thank you, you're a good student."

Harry signed while smiling: "You're not married?"

Ms. Gardiner laughed somewhat and signed as well as said: "I'm only twenty three."

Harry nodded and signed: "No boyfriend?"

Ms. Gardiner laughed and replied, her hands moving so expertly: "I don't have a boyfriend, no."

Harry laughed silently, it was weird to laugh without hearing himself but his body shook slightly with the action and he signed: "Just joking." He was glad that he remembered the sign for "joke".

She smiled brightly and said as well as signed: "You're a fast learner."

Harry smiled, his cheeks felt hot because he felt like he was being too friendly with her since he hadn't known Ms. Gardiner long but it was hard not too since she was so kind and easy to talk with and be around.

"Ok, Harry, do you think you're able to talk about the guilt that you feel a little more than last time?" Ms. Gardiner asked with care.

Harry clenched his jaw somewhat and looked around the room and then his eyes found Ms. Gardiner. Would he be able to confront this?

"Harry, please, on the blackboard, I want you to write whatever mistakes you think you made that are causing this guilt, do you think you can do that for me? You made mistakes, we all make mistakes, small ones, big ones, but what's more important is to realize that you made them and sometimes mistakes can't be mended in the ways we want to fix them," she said. "Please Harry, if you can, go to the board and write them down."

Harry sat there for a while thinking, trying not to think, thinking, it was painful and his chest ached. Somehow he had managed to stand and he didn't remember how he had walked over to the chalkboard. He picked up a piece of the white chalk and wrote down slowly:

_I should have tried harder to learn Occlumency._

_I should have wanted to learn it._

_I should have listened to my friend's warning._

_I put people's lives at risk without thinking._

_I have been selfish. _

_I let the love for my godfather obscure my judgment._

_I always feel like I have to save people._

_I made excuses._

Harry's head hurt and his chest ached so badly. His eyes stung but he dared himself not to cry. He knew that it wasn't just because of him that Sirius had died, Dumbledore had told him so but the guilt would not leave him because the moment when Sirius had fallen through, the moment the life had left him, it was the greatest consequence that Harry could feel and it destroyed him every day. How could he be so flawed? He was selfish, he was unreasonable, he was reckless, he always leapt without looking. Dumbledore had told him the greatest power he had that Voldemort did not was love and he did love Sirius but at times he wished he hadn't because then he wouldn't have been so dead set to save him, maybe he would have listened to Hermione then, maybe...

Why was he allowed to laugh and be happy when Sirius was no longer here? Perhaps losing his voice was his punishment for Sirius's death. He found himself thinking about why Sirius had stayed in Azkaban even though he was an innocent man and only escaped to kill Peter Pettigrew who was the one who sold his mother and father to Voldemort. Sirius probably would have stayed in the prison if he hadn't known where Pettigrew was. Had Sirius thought he deserved to be in Azkaban?

"Harry…"

Her voice reached him and he wrote with a shaking hand.

_I don't want to write anymore. _

"Ok, Harry, that's fine," she said.

Harry knew she was just trying to help him and he wished he was able to face Sirius's death without losing it; he just couldn't stop how much it ached inside, how he felt so much of this pain that he was dizzy from it. Harry placed the chalk down, his fingers trembling.

"Sit down on the couch, we have a few minutes, let's practice again," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry sat down and she sat across from him and for the next twenty minutes they had a conversation in sign language; she helped Harry with words he didn't know and Harry took a few notes down. When they were done Harry signed:

"I liked the Chopin piece." He had signed "Chopin" by finger spelling.

"He's my favorite, I really enjoy classical piano," Ms. Gardiner replied. "But sometimes…" She was looking out the large windows and the sun made her hair seem bright and her green eyes were ablaze. "Sometimes I feel bad…because my little sister can't hear it…"

Harry sat there quietly with his hands at his side pressed into the couch, not sure of what to do because he felt like he had heard something too private but she turned to him and smiled.

"She says that I need to listen to music for the both of us."

And she was just sitting there in the sunlight and for once her smile wasn't a happy one.

* * *

Professor Snape was reading another book when Harry walked over to him. He closed it almost automatically and stood up when he saw Harry.

"I shall return shortly," Snape said and once again Harry sat down and watched the man go. He wondered if Snape was bored by now of taking Harry to his sessions even though it was just the third one.

Harry let out a sigh. The letter was still in his pocket and every time he thought about it his heart sped up in worry. He had no idea how Snape would react to it. He just wanted the man to understand. It was only a few minutes before Snape came back and Harry got to his feet quickly. The look on his face was confusing, Snape seemed angry and bothered about something. He wondered what had happened in Ms. Gardiner's office.

"Let's go, Potter," Professor Snape said and Harry followed hastily.

* * *

They had sat in the same seats as they had before once they arrived at _The Fish Bowl_. There were fewer people here today. Harry had smiled at the sight of the two fish in the bowl again when they came in. Harry was surprised when the waitress Kim came up to them with two glasses of water and lemon wedges.

"Hello gentlemen, it's nice to see you again," she smiled at them and placed the two water glasses down.

"Good afternoon," Snape answered. Harry noticed he looked a bit dissatisfied at seeing the woman again.

"Do you know what you would like or do you need a few moments?" she asked them and winked at Harry.

"We just need a moment to decide, thank you," Snape replied.

Harry opened his menu and was determined to not order the exact same thing as Snape this time. Harry decided he would go with something simple. He wrote his order down quickly. Harry watched as Snape was reading the menu. He was still sitting up so straight. Harry decided to sit up a little straighter because he had be slouching somewhat. Professor Snape closed the menu and took a sip of his water. His eyes turned to Harry and he said:

"So…You're learning Occlumency from that…woman…"

Harry raised an eyebrow slightly at this. He tried to think of what kind of tone the professor had but he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. He also wished the subject of Occlumency hadn't come up. The letter felt heavy in his pocket somehow. Snape's lessons had been nothing short of a fiasco and Harry had thought Snape didn't want to remember them either but here he had brought the subject up.

Harry nodded and wrote down on his notepad:

_She said I was doing good for a beginner._

"_Well_…" the man replied after reading Harry's message.

Harry looked at the man with a questioning face.

"It should be well, doing _well _for a beginner," Snape corrected.

Harry lowered his eyes at the man. What was wrong with Snape? Harry had written down sentences that weren't even sentences before and just now Snape was correcting his grammar? Something was different today; the way the man looked when he came back to the waiting room, the way he was acting now, Harry could even say the man was nervous. And then Harry knew. Snape had his mind on something else. What, he did not know but Snape definitely was preoccupied about something.

Harry was a little surprised that he could tell all this just by studying Snape. Harry cast his eyes down quickly. Why was _he_ studying Snape? It was then that Kim came over and said:

"So what can I get for you today?"

"I would like the braised lamb shanks please," Snape answered and Harry had to stop himself from letting out a sigh of relief.

"And what kind of dressing on the salad?" she asked.

"Vinaigrette and an ice tea to drink please," Snape said. As she was writing his order down with her small gold pen Snape took Harry's notepad which read:

_-Fish and chips_

_-Pea soup_

_-Coca-Cola _

"He will have fish and chips and pea soup for the side, Coca-Cola for the drink." Snape said and he gave Harry back his notepad.

Kim took the two menus from Professor Snape and smiled as she said:

"Ok, your starters will be out in a moment." She walked briskly to the back where the kitchen was.

It was then that Harry took out his O.W.L. results and unfolded the paper and held it out. Snape, with a somewhat questioning look, took the parchment and read it. Harry waited until Snape said with sarcasm:

"Astonishing Mr. Potter, and to think I thought fifth year would be the last I would see of you in my class."

Harry took back his results, smiling somewhat and wrote down in his notepad:

_You just can't get rid of me, can you?_

Snape didn't reply to this and Harry didn't know why he thought he would. Was he trying to be funny? Harry didn't know why he had written it but it seemed misplaced now. Snape wasn't exactly the easiest person to talk to. Maybe it was the scenery they were surrounded by, maybe it was because Harry had been around the man a lot more than he would have liked. Or perhaps Harry was just desperately lonely. It had been five weeks since he last spoke a word; it had been a month since he last saw Ron or Hermione or really had a conversation with someone where he could just be himself. But what made him think that he could do just that with Snape? Harry was surprised with himself. He wondered now if he really should give Snape the letter.

"She tells me you are learning sign language quickly," Snape said at last.

Harry nodded and wrote down:

_I've got down most of the basics and the way I sign is getting faster._

"Here we are," Kim had come back with Snape's salad and Harry's soup which was in a small white bowl. The pea soup steamed as she set it down before Harry. It was topped with a sprig of dill. She set down Snape's plate and their napkins with silverware.

"Enjoy," she smiled brightly and left them to eat.

Harry tasted the hot soup and it was very good. He glanced at Snape who was eating his salad with that finesse about him. Harry smirked somewhat and continued to eat his soup. Harry finished well before Snape and he wiped his mouth on his napkin. He felt eager to sign to communicate. It was easier than writing it out and it felt like he was really speaking even though his voice didn't work but he doubted the man knew sign language so Harry sat in silence. When Snape was finished he wrote down:

_Do you like summer vacation?_

He could have signed that easily he thought to himself. Snape read the question and said:

"I do enjoy the quiet, yes…"

Harry waited and Snape said a little relentlessly:

"I know you only enjoy your summers if they're spent at The Burrow, otherwise you are treated to washing cars and pruning flower beds…"

Harry gave Snape a small glare and wrote down:

_This one has been fine._

"Despite your…condition…" it wasn't a question.

_Yes. I don't know, it's just different. _

He didn't know what else he could say. It wasn't exactly a fun summer nor a happy one, maybe it was the little things that made it fine. Their main course arrived shortly after that and Kim had taken their starter plates away. Harry's fish looked succulent and the chips were done just right. His meal had been served with a side of ketchup and vinegar and a couple of lemon slices. Snape's braised lamb shanks looked delicious as well. The two lamb shanks were placed on top of crushed garlic herb potatoes.

Harry found the experience of watching the other man eat something different and somewhat weird. But the taste of his meal took his mind off almost everything. Harry wished he could eat like this every day. _The Fish Bowl's_ cuisine was heavenly. Everything just tasted wonderful to Harry. Before Harry knew it as he listened to the soft music while they were eating he was done with his meal and so was Snape. Time was flying by a little too quickly and Harry wished it wouldn't because he was going to have to give Snape the letter soon.

"Would you like dessert, Mr. Potter?" Snape had asked suddenly.

Harry wrote down:

_Do you want dessert? _

Snape glared at Harry and once again Harry didn't know why he was pushing at Snape like this. He just was and it was amusing him. They had got dessert: Harry had gotten the treacle tart once again and Snape had ordered a slice of apple pie. Harry found it a bit funny to see Professor Snape eating pie. Harry didn't know what was wrong with him; he just felt like laughing the whole time and had to control himself. Then they had left, Snape paying once again with far too much money. Harry glanced at the fish once more while they exited the restaurant.

When Harry was standing before Snape he was having trouble breathing. He had to do it, it was now or never. They were outside the Dursleys for they had just Dissaparated.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes me to convey a message to you," Snape said to him as he looked down upon his face, casting a slight shadow over Harry. "This Sunday I will be here at _exactly _noon to pick you up and take you to The Burrow. You are to have your things packed and ready because I will _not _tolerate having to wait on you, is that perfectly clear?"

Harry nodded. He would have been excited to hear the news if he didn't know what he had to do now. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the slightly wrinkled envelope. His heart was pounding so fast it hurt and he had stopped breathing completely. With a shaking hand he held the letter out to Professor Snape.

"And what is this, Mr. Potter?" he had taken the letter and turned it to break the seal but Harry reached out so quickly to stop him, placing his hands on top of the man's much larger ones. Snape gave him such a fierce glare that Harry actually flinched but he shook his head quickly, asking on the inside for the man not to open it now; his eyes shining. Snape let out an angry noise and Harry brought his hands away from Snape's. The man then Apparated with a loud crack.

* * *

Harry sat on his bed with his shoes and socks off thinking himself stupid. How could he have given Snape the letter? He was going to kill Harry, he just knew it. His intuition was telling him so. How else would the man react? Would he write his own stupid letter conveying his feelings about the situation? Not likely. Harry cursed at himself again in his head and he buried his face in his pillow.

The Dursleys had left when Harry got home to go out to eat and see a movie. They had locked Harry in his room so he wouldn't "touch" anything. He didn't know why he was anxious. He thought now he wouldn't see the man till Sunday so he had until then to know how Snape felt about the letter. Harry knew he was going to read it.

However Harry saw Professor Snape much sooner than Sunday. In fact, it was just about two hours later when Severus Snape came crashing through the door quite loudly, his face looking like he _would_ murder Harry this time.

* * *

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Sorry if there was a lot of information about BSL. The next chapter should be up tomorrow. It will be in Snape's POV. Thank you again to everyone for reading. Please review if you have the time. : )**


	8. Chapter 7: Because You're Here with Me

**(In this chapter I have both Snape's POV and then Harry's POV, just letting you all in on that.)**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Because You're Here With Me **

_ Severus could remember how he had come into all of this believing he would not change. He realized he had been a fool to think that way. He thought he could be a man of little to no desire, he thought he could be a man who just did his job and that would be it. He did not expect just one boy to ruin that plan. To ruin all that he had built for himself. Severus had been a man of no desires, no expectations. He had been a harsh teacher and disciplinarian. Some people would say he was evil. But Severus had always been able to control everything. Yes, there were some things he had ruined himself, some things that may have been precious to him but they were gone now. But there was Potter; the foolish boy. How he had loathed the child, how he had piled all of the insults on that boy, how he had tried more than what it was worth to humiliate and degrade this one boy and here he was now seeing this boy as if for the first time._

_ He wondered if it would be the death of him because it was hopeless. It had been two weeks and he could no longer look at Potter like he used to. It was as if he had been looking through wet glass; the boy had been distorted into something he wasn't. His heart, oh how it was still there he did not know for it had been quiet for so long, his heart was now interfering with his life. His mind, as overworked as it was, kept feeding him the lies he had heaped on him so easily, and it had been so easy to just hate the boy because it was as if James Potter had lived still. It was fanatical, it was nasty, it was complete lunacy what he had done. Severus was not a man to make many mistakes, he was a man who wished to be left alone to his thoughts that he had such complete reign over. _

_ He had remembered one way the boy had looked at him as if saying, "You're so full of yourself." And Severus was but he would never admit it. This boy, this boy with those innocent eyes, he had unhinged him with such effortlessness and Severus was left wounded. Potter would forever be the thorn in his side. Severus thought of how many others had possibly been stricken with this poison. The boy was poison. Once it had been so simple to ignore him, to turn away and that would be the end of it but he just couldn't liberate himself from Potter._

_ Why now did this boy have to look so gone and helpless? So lost? Oh how he was so much different than his father. His father had been strong and viciously proud and so damned noble, he had been cruel and conceited, venomously treacherous upon others. And here was his boy pushed around by fate too many of times. How lost he looked, how utterly, utterly finished. _

_ And then the woman came into the picture. Potter's shining light. She had arrived to save him and how Severus loathed her more than he could bear. She was so overconfident, so sweetly branded with that electrified smile and it had rubbed off on Potter. Her perfume seemed to wrap its way around the boy like ribbons and how he reeked of it, he could barely stand to be in that room. _

_ He did not need to be questioned if he knew Potter; of course he knew the boy. Two days and this woman talked of him as if she had known him for years. How disgusted he was by her. And the boy was far too kind to him. Severus had taken too much amusement from their first lunch, practically drunk off it. Potter's anxiety was something he had stole content from. The boy had looked so entirely hopeless, desperate, childish, smiling like a buffoon and Severus had sat there with his controlled self never once letting the tethers he gripped to so tightly go; he had sat there and watched the boy just unravel. It was amusing to watch Potter look so scared._

_ Why? Why did such a being of absolutely no caliber whatsoever, of such little self-esteem, of genuine naivety obstruct him so? Potter was a runt, an arrogant, shameless fool. But he was damned by him. The boy would ruin him, he just knew it. Severus had been drifting through life for a long time never belonging, never trusting, never here nor there, just existing without much purpose. How a man lived like that he did not know. But this boy grounded him, pulled at him and he dreaded it so dearly. And he was just a man who held on to the bitterness for so long it just felt dead to the touch. He walked proudly and held his head high with dignity and authority. But Potter made him look down, made him falter, made him want to forget what he had been for so long._

_ If was because the boy was so full of things Severus was not: kindness, generosity, light, ambition, and virtue. And they had talked, he through words, Potter through notes, and moments came and went and he found himself being unable to despise it. The boy did not deserve to be hated, to be loathed with such power behind it. He had sat there trying all too hard to not want to be there in that restaurant with its silly name and bright waiters, tried to hurry their stay but the boy had smiled at him, a fleeting, confusing instant and Severus yielded to it, not painfully as if he were being tortured by the Dark Lord, but slowly as if handling something delicate and he could just remember when he had done such a thing so many years ago. _

_ That waitress, she had thought he was the boy's father. Did they seem that way? Sitting across from each other, based on what they had in common they had might as well been miles away. He did not belong here, he did not deserve it nor did he desire it but he, Severus, he only grazed it. He had allowed himself that much at least._

* * *

_ He had heard soft music playing behind the door when he came once more to her office. He had knocked and the music stopped and her voice called:_

_ "Come in."_

_ Severus entered the room with silent footsteps upon the thin carpet. _

_ "Good afternoon, Professor Snape," she greeted him with that same smile. It was as if it was burning him. She was just too pleasant. _

_ He sat down on the black couch and she had sat gently down in her chair before him. _

_ "Harry surprised me today, it's only been a week and he's doing so well in learning sign language, we had whole conversations," her voice was cheery and sweetened. _

_ "Indeed," Severus had replied. "What did you talk about with him?" _

_ "Oh just simple things really…I taught him some new signs, his behavior was quite relaxed today, not as anxious though his hands are still a bit shaky but I can't give him anything for it, a Calming Draught will most likely have a bad reaction to what he's taking for depression."_

_ Severus nodded slowly and then his eyes caught the chalk board. So she had made the boy use that again. Then Severus read the words on the board in that slightly neat scribble. _

_ "What did the boy do here?" _

_ "Oh, we attempted to come to terms with Harry's grief once more but he couldn't get there," she had answered and stood up just as Severus stood up and went over to the board. _

_ These words were confessions, the boy's confessions and he read the first two sentences:_

I should have tried harder to learn Occlumency.

I should have wanted to learn it.

_ Those words seemed to eat at him, to scream at him. It had been so long since the boy had said anything and he tried to imagine Potter saying these words out loud but could not. How long would this last? How long was the boy going to drown himself within _this_ guilt?_

I put people's lives at risk without thinking.

I have been selfish.

I let the love for my godfather obscure my judgment.

I always feel like I have to save people.

I made excuses.

_And this was the Potter hidden behind the hands that tried to hold himself together. The boy was at his end and it was as Dumbledore had said, his spirit was wavering, barely lit behind those eyes that haunted him. _

_ "His Occlumency lessons began today," her voice broke him away from his thoughts._

_ "And was he miserable at it?" Severus asked without looking at her. _

_ "No, in fact he did quite perfect for the first lesson, I didn't dive too far in but he was able to block me out completely, he didn't struggle at all," her words cut at him like knives. "He was nervous at first but we did some techniques to clear his mind and he was fine." She was smiling at him like she had done something worthy of her self-praise. _

_ "Do you really think it constructive to push the boy like this?" Severus had gestured to the blackboard. "Don't you think this is causing him more stress and grief?"_

_ "Now Professor, I don't force Harry to do this, I merely ask him if he is capable of trying," she replied simply. _

_ "Well of course he will try if you ask him to!" Severus snapped at the woman and she just stood there with that small smile. "What I mean is your decision to force on him the opportunity, he should be willing to do such things when he is ready." _

_ "But Harry will never be ready, Professor Snape," she said with such ease. "He is in too much pain." _

_ "And you make him spell it out for you as if-" _

_ "What's this about, Professor?" she interrupted him. "Why are you angry? Is it because he has no trouble whatsoever learning Occlumency from me and barely budged at the subject with you? Is this your pride? That wouldn't make much sense-" _

_ "How _dare _you," Severus said in a low tone, barely audible. _

_ "What? How dare I stick up for Harry? Do you think so little of him? Do you think he can't handle this?" she said with such a strong look it would have rivaled his own. She motioned to the board standing there firmly, the ends of her thin robes swaying slightly and the sun bright behind her. "These are Harry's words, not mine, he realizes them on his own time, I merely just…open the door for him." _

_ Severus had no words for her. He glared at her, despising her, hating her confidence. _

_ "I think our meeting is over, wouldn't you say so Professor?" she said and she walked over to the silver radio and pressed the "play" button. _

_ Severus left the room feeling as if he had been electrocuted. He had gotten so angry with the woman, he had been so angry with the boy. He knew he hadn't been the best teacher to Potter when it came to Occlumency but had the boy really just practiced it first hand with such ease as she had said? Why did this bother him so much? Why did he feel like he had failed at something? He didn't care that Potter had made a mockery of his teachings, did he? The boy was supposed to be rubbish at Occlumency. Utterly hopeless at it but now he knew different. The boy was different and he couldn't lie to himself anymore. _

_ He saw the boy there sitting, his hands on his knees, waiting for him. He had built up this structure that was supposed to be the boy, to be Harry Potter, and it was wasting away to pieces. What was underneath it all was a revealed truth about this boy that he had tried to put in his place for five years. This boy, who was he? The boy had looked up and those eyes behind the glasses found his own; piercing into him like a sword made of ice. How those eyes made him think of times where he had felt more alive. _

_ It was bothering him, making him lose track of himself which never happened. He found himself trying so hard not to let his mask fall, the face that looked so controlled, so calm, so calculated. He was losing it and the boy was pressuring him. He was actually trying to make him be more than what he was. This made him furious. It was because of Potter that he had to go through all of this, it was because of this damned boy that everything he had built had crumbled down and he could hate this boy for that. The bitterness was being forced down like he had forced down his food. There was fury buried beneath it all, willing itself to break out._

* * *

Soft hands had come down about his own as Severus had tried to open the boy's letter. Those eyes were light filled, the silent begging obvious to Severus. The touch was so forward and it surprised Severus. The hands came away quickly and Severus had left the boy, Apparating to Hogsmeade Station and then using a portkey to reach his personal quarters inside the castle in the dungeons. Severus shrugged off his muggle overcoat and poured himself a glass of Firewhisky and sat in the arm chair by the fireplace. He had felt overwhelmed and this was new to him. He knew he had to talk to Dumbledore soon but he thought it could wait.

He took out the letter from his pocket and opened it finally. Why would the boy give him a letter? What had he been too embarrassed to tell Severus? He unfolded the letter and began to read. And something was beginning to tear within him. These words, words of apology and declaration, they were burning to his eyes. Words that could not be true ladled the parchment. Even though it was only one page the words seemed to go on forever. Severus was standing now; he had dropped his glass onto floor, the dark liquid spilling out.

What was this? Why did Potter have to give him this now? This completely obliterated what was left of the barrier he had over the boy. Severus's body was shaking in rage as his hands clutched the letter. How could the boy just think to write these words and hand them over as if they would harbor any salvation? What was he trying to give Severus, was he really just apologizing to him? A man he hated? This wasn't the boy, this was a lie, but these words, these words cascaded by the firelight seemed to stab him, seemed to want to force their way into his brain and Severus would not allow it, he would not allow Potter's words to mean _anything _to him. There were boundaries, walls that needed to be kept up but they were threatening to be breached.

Severus could not accept it; this was a complete turn, an ultimate change from what the boy used to be. And here he was trying to justify himself against his father! But Severus knew he wasn't his father or he knew he wasn't just like James Potter, oh how his thoughts came crashing in his head, he was overwhelmed with the anger and the uncertainty and confusion and anxiety and it was because of Potter! Everything was because of the stupid boy and this damned letter, why, why was he feeling this way? He was furious, he was overpowered by what he felt and the thing that had begun to tear within him was shredded.

This was it; he had been through enough, enough of this_ boy_. The words in the letter kept playing back in his head as he started to charge around the room in his fury. They were jumbling into themselves, Potter's voice growing louder in his mind, the words spilling out over and over; how many times had Potter wrote that he was sorry? And now those words were controlling him, mastering him, shuddering in his mind like a heartbeat, a pulse, something that was alive and it was hammering down at his head. He threw things around, anything he could get his hands on; he was losing it all, memories he didn't want resurfaced like a tidal wave and he snapped.

* * *

Harry was sure that Snape had kicked open the door making the lock break. The sound had been so loud like an explosion. Harry barely saw Snape standing there, his face contorted with such rage, it was almost inhuman; how could a person look like that? Harry's eyes widened as he got to his feet for he had been lying down in bed.

And then Snape charged at him and he didn't know what to do, he didn't even know where his wand was. He shuffled on his feet uselessly but he was trapped. Snape had grabbed him so roughly by his upper arms and threw him against his desk so swiftly his desk chair had fallen over and Harry felt the sudden pain in his lower back. Snape was so strong. The man's hand flew to his neck and put such a pressure there that Harry thought this was the end of his life, the man was going to kill him, he was going to strangle him. Harry brought his hands up to Snape's hand that was gripping his neck. He could still breathe but barely. Harry's eyes reached the black pools but there was such anger in them, it was more than anger, it was a wildness Harry couldn't recognize. The man's breathing was sporadic and his teeth were clenched, his hair somewhat tossed. Harry's lower back was on fire now as he was being pressed into the edge of the desk with such force.

"_Who do you think you are, boy?_" Snape's words were so full of venom and maliciousness. Snape was towering over him like a dementor. Snape's left hand left his arm and held up the crumpled letter, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white as a skeleton's. "_What_ is this supposed to be?"

Harry didn't know what to do. He knew the man was scaring him. He felt dizzy and his body was trembling and the pain in his back was torture. Harry's eyes found the letter again and then back at Snape.

"ANSWER ME, POTTER!" Snape bellowed as he threw Harry to the wooden floor effortlessly and powerfully. Harry collided with it, the side of his head smacking up against the hard wood. His glasses had gone flying somewhere. Harry's head was flooded with darkness for a moment but he was trying to pull himself up and Snape was shouting at him once more:

"WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO _BE_?!" something crashed to the floor, the sound of glass shattering and Harry flinched badly. It was happening so fast and Harry was fumbling around with his hands looking for his glasses and they were stung by the shards. "DO YOU THINK YOU CAN ALWAYS JUST _DO _WHATEVER YOU PLEASE! APOLOGIZE! APOLOGIZE, _REALLY _POTTER?! YOU'RE SUCH AN IDIOT BOY!"

Snape's voice seemed to smash against the walls as Harry's breaths were coming out in ragged gasps now. Something crashed against the closet wardrobe, Harry fleetingly thought it was his desk chair. Harry could hardly see as more things seemed to be flying around the room, bouncing off the walls and then he was lifted up by the man's hands gripping his shirt collar.

"_WHAT _ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!"

Blurred, Snape's face looked even more monstrous and he was flung to the floor again, crashing against it, the pain in his back increasing tenfold. Snape had let out an angry filled shout and the chair might have been thrown against the wall again. What was happening? Harry didn't understand what the man's words meant, all Harry could think now is he wished he had never written the letter, never even thought about doing it.

"YOU THINK YOURSELF SO BRAVE, BOY BUT YOU'RE A FOOL! A DAMNED FOOL!" and hands came to grab at him again, his shoulders being squeezed and he was being shaken so hard he didn't even know if his feet were touching the floor, Harry tried to get free but it was no use, he was so disoriented, he was lost in the whirlwind of the man's rage. And he was thrown once again to the hard floor. Harry lay there trying to breathe but the wind had been knocked from him and he curled up on his side and tried to boost himself up. The man shouted as if he wanted the whole earth to hear: "YOU'RE FULL OF SUCH LIES JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER! YOU, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST INSULT ME LIKE THIS, TAKE ALL THIS FROM ME?!"

Harry didn't know what was happening; he just had to get out. He got to his bare feet which stung as if walking on needles and tried to make his way to the door but the broken thing slammed closed before he got to it as if gluing itself into the wall. Harry turned and through the blurriness he could see that Snape had his wand out now and his heart beat was so fast he thought it would burst from his chest; it was banging within him so loudly.

"OF COURSE, TRYING TO RUN AWAY FROM YOUR PROBLEMS _POTTER!_"

Harry had come to the conclusion that Snape had gone mad and that he wouldn't live to see his 16th birthday and he wished his room wasn't so tiny because Snape's shouting was horrid to his ears. He wanted out; it was too much for him. Snape was coming at him again, Harry heard the man's stomping. Harry threw his hands up before him and Snape grabbed his wrists and flung him away from the door. He hit the floor again, colliding with his desk; his notepad and pen toppled onto his lap like a gift from the heavens. Harry fumbled with it because he couldn't see well for the fading light in the room and with no glasses. Snape was shouting again:

"I AM SO _SICK _OF YOU POTTER!"

Harry had managed to write one word in as big as the letters would fit on the paper; his hands were slippery with blood and they stung badly, the blood blotted the notepaper. Snape was rounding on him again and Harry held up the notepad as if it were a shield. It read:

_**STOP**_

Snape's crazed eyes seemed to register the word and it was like a balloon deflating. His twisted face let go of all its tension and his shoulders slumped slightly and he let out a ragged breath. Harry looked all over the man's face with his own worried eyes, brimming with tears as if they were crystals, he was shaking all over and he felt so cold and his body was registering the pain it was in. Harry sat there on the floor witnessing Snape's rage disappear as the seconds past. He staggered backward and sat down on Harry's bed. His face was flushed, sweat gleamed off his forehead, and his lips were quivering somewhat. Snape seemed out of breath as was Harry. He watched as Snape rubbed at his hands and then his hands came to his face and massaged his temples and eyes.

They stayed like that for a while and Harry began to think that Snape couldn't believe what he had just done. He had tossed Harry around like a doll, shouting at the top of his voice, throwing things around the room with such rage. Harry slowly and shakily got to his feet. The shouting was still echoing in his ears.

"Stay…there's glass all over the floor…" came Snape's now tired, slightly hoarse voice.

And he sat back down feeling light headed. Harry had felt like he had been on a boat in a viscous storm that was finally over. Tears were threatening to fall and he blinked them away. His back was in so much pain as was his head, arms, hands, and feet. His throat felt the lingering pain of when Snape had him at a vice grip. Snape got to his feet and Harry could make out that he started to wave his wand around the room and things seemed to fly all over, coming back together, the chair that had busted legs, the hole in the wall, the broken cabinet door, the room's door, the ink bottles that busted all over the place, papers and books that had been strewn about, and finally Harry's glasses that were in two pieces, the lens' wrecked, it all fixed itself like new and Harry's ears were filled with the whirl of noise from it all. He heard the pieces of glass drop into the waste paper basket.

He flinched when his glasses were put back on by Snape whose fingers were cold and everything was clear again. Snape was on his knees before him, kneeling, looking at Harry with such worry in his eyes that Harry had never seen before on the man's face. It was strange when Snape had taken his arms and helped him stand and had led him to the restroom across the hall. Harry sat on the toilet cover and in the light of the restroom saw how badly his hands were cut up, bits of glass stuck in his skin and his feet had left a few spots of blood on the floor. Snape took Harry's hands up with one hand and with the other he waved his wand and Harry bit his lip as the pieces of glass were all extracted from his skin; the blood on them gleamed from the bathroom light. Snape did the same thing to his feet (that had hurt much worse) and within moments the cuts on his hands and the bottoms of his feet were gone.

Harry's white shirt had blood on it and dust from the floor. It was so quiet, Snape wasn't saying anything. Harry noticed the man's muggle clothes were a bit wrinkled. Harry was staring at the floor when the man's hand had lifted his shirt up from behind him suddenly. Harry recoiled somewhat. He looked up at Snape who was looking at his back.

"I will be back in a few minutes with some potions for this," Snape said in a defeated sort of voice.

Harry didn't have a chance to do anything because the man had left so quickly. He heard Snape's footsteps as he went downstairs. Harry thought how lucky he was that the Dursley's would be out late tonight. He stood on shaky legs and walked over to the bathroom mirror. He had to stand on tip toe with his body turned somewhat as he lifted up his shirt to reveal the long, blossoming bruise that was welted on his backside. It hurt as badly as it looked. Bruises were even beginning to form where Snape had gripped his neck. Harry let out a sigh finally and was glad he was still alive. He really thought Snape was going to do him in.

The man came back soon enough and Harry was sitting on his bed glancing around at his room which looked as if the fray had never happened. Snape handed him two small bottles.

"For the pain in your head and the bruising," he said to Harry.

Harry took them both, not liking their tastes and the pain reliever began to make him feel tired but he had to stay awake, he had to figure out what had just happened. The man sat down beside him.

"I do apologize for my…rash behavior," Snape said at last for the silence was murder on Harry. Harry grabbed his notepad and pen. Harry suddenly felt nervous, having the professor here with him like this in his room.

"The letter…why…why did you write it?" Snape asked in a low voice. The man seemed to be exhausted.

Harry wrote quickly but it took a while:

_I was apologizing for what happened with the Pensieve. That memory made me understand what you've been telling me for so long. I was ashamed of my dad because he did those things to you and knowing it wasn't the first time, that he did it often, I just didn't understand why he would but I just couldn't take how ashamed I was and the guilt I felt, I thought by writing you the letter I could make it go away and it did but I didn't really think of what might happen if I actually let you read it. You thought I was lying didn't you? That's why you got angry with me?_

"It was very believable Mr. Potter; it was easy to realize you were not lying…" Snape said and he wasn't looking at Harry.

Harry wrote down in reply:

_I don't understand? What were you saying? I really didn't get any of it._

"I was angry, I was just saying anything, you don't need to worry about it…" the man said but Harry couldn't believe it. Not worry about it? When Snape had attacked him like that?

"I don't know why I was so enraged when I read it…" the man continued and Harry looked up to see Snape's forlorn expression. His hair was no longer messy.

Harry wrote down:

_I really mean it Professor, I'm truly sorry, I never meant it I mean I would never_

"It's alright, Mr. Potter," Snape's hands had taken away his notepad and pen gently. "This is entirely my fault. You shouldn't stress over it any longer, it won't help you."

Harry didn't care if he was helped, he wanted Snape to know that, he just wanted the man to know he was sorry and that he had been wrong. His eyes were growing so heavy though and his back felt numb and his head was fuzzy. He knew he would pass out soon, how was he going to tell Snape how bad he felt about making him so angry? Was Snape ok? He had never seen someone lose it like that before. His thoughts were swimming lazily in his head and his vision was blurred only because Snape had stood up and taken off Harry's glasses. Strong hands pushed him gently down and Harry's head met his pillow. It was strange because Snape was being kind to him and for a moment when Harry's eyes were trying to find anything in his last chance to stay conscious he saw Professor Snape looking at him and felt his hand on his arm and he tried to reach out to stop the man from leaving him, the dark sleeves of the man's dress shirt looked outlined with shadow as was the rest of his body. He had to ask him something but he couldn't remember what it was. He wanted to call out to him but his voice didn't work.

Perhaps if he had stayed awake for a few more moments he would have seen Professor Snape tap his wand upon Harry's neatly piled sign language books creating an exact copy of the pile right next to the original. He had picked the pile up and left the sleeping Harry to be lost in his dreams.

* * *

**I hope no one was disappointed with this chapter. I wanted to work out more of what Snape has been going through. Thank you for reading and if you have time please review. :) **


	9. Chapter 8: To Be with Friends

**(This chapter switches around from Harry POV to Snape's POV quite a bit)**

* * *

**Chapter 8: To Be with Friends**

He was dreaming again. He was running through something cold: thick snow on the ground and his shoes kept sinking into it. He could see his breath, white puffs of mist escaping from his ragged breathing. He was running but they were leaving him behind, his mother and father walking through the snowy field with their backs to him. Lily's scarf was so red like blood and her hand held James's hand, forever linked. Why wouldn't they stop for him? He was so far behind them and they just weren't getting closer no matter how fast he struggled to run. He couldn't scream, he could just watch desperately as they grew further and further away from him and suddenly a tall figure appeared in front of him and he collided with it and fell back into the icy snow. He looked up to see the man in all black with a pale face and the blackest eyes, his hair was blowing slightly and had bits of snow it in. The man was looking down at him but he didn't say anything. He was reaching down to him and was on his knees, his strong, heavy hands gripped his shoulders and he was pushing him down, down into the ground and it felt like it was breaking under him and he fell through the ice, plunging into the cold depths; the man was gone and he was under the water now falling, falling and he couldn't breathe. It was so dark and he was so alone; he turned his head slowly and saw his godfather and he was falling with him through the cold dark water, he reached for him but he was too far, too far gone below and he was going to drown with him, he was going to die and people started to shout his name from somewhere…

Harry awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. He immediately brought his hands to his face and wiped the tears from his eyes. It took a few moments before he realized where he was. He sat up in bed and it was barely dawn outside. He felt dizzy and confused. Harry planted his feet on the wooden floor and found his glasses on his desk and put them on. He had no idea why he dreamed such a dream though it had felt like a nightmare. Why had Snape been in it? It was then that he suddenly remembered what had happened the evening before; Snape's tirade in his room, all that ear shattering shouting and being tossed around like nothing. Harry's heart beat sped up and he looked around the room as if Snape would still be in it but that was silly. He couldn't believe what had gone on, what Snape had done. The man had been absolutely vicious.

Harry was surprised though because he was not in pain anymore. He stood up and lifted his shirt and found the large bruise that had been there was completely gone and there was no ache in his head. He wondered what he should do, he didn't feel tired and it was very early in the morning. He thought it best that he should write Ron and Hermione back so he sat at his desk and took out some parchment and dipped his quill in the ink bottle and started to write:

_Dear Ron,_

_ How are you? I am doing fine so tell Ginny that for me. Sorry you have to do so many chores, I wouldn't have a clue what that's like, hope you know I'm being sarcastic. Tell your mum thanks for me. But I am coming over Sunday! I really can't wait, it's been too long and I am tired of being here. You guys don't have to have a party for me, I'll just be happy to spend it with everyone. So, how did you do in your O.W.L.s? I managed 7, I actually got an O in Potions, I couldn't believe it. I wonder how Hermione did, probably got Os all the way through. _

_ I guess summer has been going by slow but I'm sort of glad, I don't know what it's going to be like when we go back since I can't speak still. Well, see you Sunday._

_-Harry_

He folded Ron's letter, put it in an envelope, and addressed it. He then moved on to Hermione's:

_Dear Hermione,_

_ How have you been? I will be going to The Burrow this Sunday, I'm excited to see you and Ron and everyone, I really need to get out of this place. Also, I got an O in Potions so I'm pretty relieved about that. All together I got 7 so I think that's good enough. How did you do? I really don't know why I bother asking since you probably got an O for every subject. My sessions have gone pretty well but I wish I could just speak again already; I'm starting to think something happened inside where I might not be able to talk again..Anyway, I'm really excited to see you guys so I can't wait. Oh and I'm a little nervous as to what your surprise might be. _

_-Harry _

Harry addressed Hermione's and went over to a sleeping Hedwig. Harry wondered if she had come back late in the night when he was sleeping. He petted her gently and her eyes opened. Harry held up the two letters and she hooted at him and hopped out of her cage. He tied them to her leg and sent her off out his window. He watched her fly away into the dawn of the sky, the sun casting everything in a warm glow. He couldn't tell Ron or Hermione what Snape had done, it just seemed like the incident should be kept between him and Snape. It was strange, they had always despised one another, a mutual hate between them but now Snape seemed different and here he was just as different. What was he to do until Sunday? Harry decided it was best to learn more sign language so he showered, got dressed and set to teaching himself more, standing in front of the mirror pretending to have made up conversations with himself.

* * *

"I am more than disappointed in you, Severus," Dumbledore's voice was severe. "You could have gravely injured the boy; I cannot believe you would let your anger take a hold of you in such a way. Did it really matter so much to you that Harry remain to be covered by his father's image? That when you finally saw the boy for who he was you wanted to attack him?"

Severus sat there in the chair before the headmaster's desk with his head down and his hands on his knees. It wasn't like the old wizard to have such a tone in his voice. Severus knew he would not have been able to hide what he had done to Potter from Dumbledore so he had told him out right.

"I thought this would be a healthy way for you to get over your foolish grudges finally but I see now that I have made a grave error, you will cease to take Harry to his sessions, Remus will handle it from now-"

"_No_ Headmaster, what happened today will not happen again, I assure you, I can deal with this on my own," Severus answered quickly as he looked up at Dumbledore.

"But I don't understand Severus; three weeks ago you most likely would have done anything to be rid of the boy, what's this so suddenly?" Dumbledore had sat back down in his chair.

Severus's body felt rigid but he answered slowly:

"I…do not fail at my job, you were the one to bestow this _responsibility _on me and the other Order members have their hands full as it is, I will see this task finished until the start of term like we agreed." Severus could not look the man in the eyes as he said these words with a strong, forceful voice.

Dumbledore was silent for a long time until at last he said:

"Severus, if this becomes a problem this _responsibility _will no longer be yours, do you understand?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Severus answered.

"I've tried to tell you all along that Harry is far too kind," the man said as he brought his hands upon his desk. "Even with what has happened to him he still thinks of others, he wanted to apologize to you, I'm sure you know he took no pleasure from the memory he saw."

Severus swallowed, his mouth was dry.

"I think it best you try to understand the boy a bit better, Severus," Dumbledore said with his blue eyes looking at him. "Because he does not need a man like you threatening him the way you did, Harry needs friends, guidance, people that he _knows_ will be there for him through and through."

He just sat there not knowing how to reply; he still could not get over what he had done. Severus wanted to say that right now he was possibly the one trying to understand the boy more than anyone. He doubted the boy wanted to be anything remotely more than just student and teacher; he could not be the boy's friend, especially after what had happened only an hour ago.

"I apologize, Albus, I will never harm the boy again…" he started to say.

"I trust you Severus," Dumbledore said. "You do know you deserve more than just a reprimand from me however."

Severus nodded slowly; he couldn't remember a time when he felt this exhausted.

"You may go but please, make sure the boy is alright sometime soon," Dumbledore said.

"I will," Severus stood and he felt disoriented.

He left the old wizard's office and went back to his personal quarters.

He sunk in his arm chair not caring about the mess he had made. What had happened kept playing over and over in his head, most parts were all one big blur and he could remember grabbing the boy in such a rough manner and throwing him, hearing his body collide with the floor, the sickening sound his head had made when it struck the ground. The sight of the bloodied bruise was imprinted in his memory and how frightened Potter looked just sitting there on the glass littered floor. His hands had been so covered in blood and his whole body was trembling like a leaf. He was so ashamed of himself, so in aghast at what he had done.

He remembered how he had felt seeing that one word "STOP" like it had been an off switch to his fury bringing back the memory of the boy, that he was just a boy and nothing more. Gone was the image of James Potter, gone was the belief that the boy would always follow in the man's footsteps. It had been swept away, taken away, erased by Potter himself. And now there was just a boy left who he did not know, a stranger in a sense, a kind, naïve stranger. He had placed his hands over his face, bent forward slightly feeling the fire against his body. He had remembered the warmth of Potter's hands, how small they had looked in his own, wet with blood and pierced with glass; it had sickened him greatly to see such a sight even though he had seen far worse things in his life.

Severus thought of when the boy was losing consciousness, his eyes falling closed and he had pushed him to the bed and he waited for a moment, just staring as the blue eyes practically glazed with light, half open until they had closed and stayed closed.

The anger he had felt was so great as if it had fueled his very body to live, to move and that had scared him but he knew it would not happen again, he knew he could keep it under control but that fact did not help how he felt now. He felt lost like a ship without a light in the harbor; he didn't know what direction to go in, forever doomed to wonder in the blackness that had lived so long within him. Hate made everything so dark and ugly, so bitter and desperate. And how could he let go of it when he had held on to it for so long? It felt like it was all he knew and there was no other way than this.

Severus felt a deep ache in his chest as he sat there with his eyes closed taking in deep, silent breaths. He just could not erase the image of those eyes from his mind; they captivated him, stole all reason from him, made it hard to think rationally. The boy always ignited that spark in him that made him feel more in touch with his surroundings. He knew he would have a sleepless night despite how drained he felt.

* * *

The sky was so blue this morning and the puffs of clouds made certain images that Harry tried to guess what they could be. The breeze blew his thin bangs gently. He was lost in the blue. Harry was practically lying across the seat of the swing, his body almost parallel above the ground. He had been like that for quite a while, spacing out from time to time. He wore a thin gray shirt and light blue jeans with white trainers. It was a nice Friday morning and he was only counting down the hours till Sunday, he couldn't doubt how excited he was to see his friends again no matter that he couldn't speak.

He was over the shock of what had happened Wednesday evening. Snape's fury had more than surprised him but maybe Snape had needed what he had done to Harry, maybe Snape's anger had been the same kind of anger he had felt in Dumbledore's office, he had definitely threw things around the room, breaking them and he had felt like he wanted to hurt someone. Perhaps he had understood the anger Snape had felt then which made the incident in his room easier to cope with. If only he could have shouted like Snape had though, maybe it would have made him feel better.

Harry was tired of being the target of Snape's anger but something was different this time, something in Snape had changed and Harry never thought he'd be able to think that way about the man. Snape had definitely hurt him but when it was over the man looked like he had truly made a mistake. Harry found it very strange that he was comparing himself to the man, it bothered him and it made him feel weird.

He sat up in the swing and started to push himself forward and back, propelling himself with the tips of his shoes on the dirt ground to give him the leverage he needed and he let the motion take over him like he had always done. It was relaxing and it took away all the anxiety he felt and the worry, if only it would stay that way but he knew it had to come to an end. He swung for a few minutes, opening his eyes, getting higher and higher, gazing at nothing across the street, well there had been nothing across the street a moment ago until a man appeared out of thin air.

Harry stopped himself by skidding his heels into the dirt and squinted. Well who else would it be besides Professor Snape? The man was walking over to him, the breeze blowing his dark red collared dress shirt somewhat and his black dress pants. He didn't have an overcoat on this time. Then Snape was practically right in front of him.

"Hello Mr. Potter," the man said and his face looked too serious.

Harry raised his right hand slowly and waved a bit. He took out his notebook and pen and wrote down:

_What are you doing here? _

It was definitely strange to see the man standing in a playground, it made Harry want to laugh.

"Well, I've come on behalf of your well being…" Snape said in that velvety voice.

Harry looked at the man questioningly but he did not get to his feet, in fact he was inwardly daring the man to sit in the swing next to him; that would be a sight.

Harry wrote quickly:

_I'm fine, sir. _

Harry waited, glancing at the swing next to him quickly, maybe if he just kept sitting…

"Well, I wanted to make sure…because of what…happened the other evening…" Snape shifted on his feet to Harry's left a bit.

Harry scribbled out a sentence:

_I do regret writing the letter, if that's what you want to hear but I understand why you did what you did. _

"I thought…well, I thought you yourself would be…livid with my actions," Snape was looking around the park with a slight grimace, maybe to see if anyone was around and his hand took the chain of the swing next to Harry and he awkwardly tried to sit on it but as soon as he did he stood up quickly and Harry had to put his head down because he was laughing, his eyes shut tight.

"How honored I am to be the reason for your amusement, _Potter_…" Snape said with great sarcasm and he stepped back from the swing.

Harry bit his lip to try to control himself but he couldn't get rid of his smile. He wrote down:

_I'm not angry with you, honest sir. _

"I can tell…" Professor Snape answered and there was a long silence except for the random squeak of Harry's swing and then: "I forgive you, Mr. Potter…for what happened in my office…"

Harry's smile fell and he quickly looked up at the man who was not looking at him but had his head slightly down staring at the dirt. Harry didn't know what to do, he didn't even know how he felt but those words, _those_ words were something he thought could never exist, could never come from this man. But they had and Harry couldn't begin to understand Snape. He was changing every time Harry saw him.

"Are you sure you're alright, Mr. Potter?" Snape was looking at him now and all Harry could do was nod and feel stupid. "Well then, I will see you Sunday afternoon."

When Snape Apparated the crack echoed all around the deserted park and Harry was left staring at the words on his paper, responses to a conversation he probably would never forget. He felt weird, his heart was pounding and his hands shook badly, what was wrong with him? Did Snape's forgiveness mean this much to him? If not then why was his body reacting this way? And the memory of what Snape had done in his room charged in his brain, how different Snape's voice had been, shouting, practically howling at him. But this morning under a sky that was so blue the man's voice had been almost kind. Harry needed to get away from these thoughts, he needed a distraction; he needed Sunday to get here faster.

* * *

Severus Snape had arrived at the Dursley's on Sunday fifteen minutes early. He waited across the street under the concealment charm. He had gotten nothing done over the weekend besides reading those damned sign language books. He hadn't outlined the curriculum for his N.E.W.T classes for the start of term, he hadn't worked on any potions (which Madame Pomfrey needed), and he forgot that his storage needed stocking. He couldn't believe his sluggishness, it was very unlike him to not get what needed to be done, done. When it was finally noon he saw the boy leaving the house pulling his trunk and the snowy white owl was upon his shoulder. She flew off quickly. Potter carried her cage with him. Severus undid the concealment charm and walked with long strides over to the driveway.

"Eager, aren't we Mr. Potter?" Severus said now standing in front of the boy.

Potter smiled looking slightly embarrassed. The boy wore a dark green hooded jumper over a blue shirt and dark jeans. Severus looked down at Potter's scuffed gray trainers. Someone had said to him that shoes were supposed to look worn in, that it was the style for teen boys. To him it just made him think the boy didn't take care of his things.

Severus tapped Potter's trunk and his bird cage and they disappeared. He walked onto the street with the boy following practically on his heels. He could tell that Potter was more than overjoyed to be leaving this place, he wondered if the boy knew how childish he looked, standing by him and smiling like that. Severus held out his arm and Potter took it, gripping it firmly. They Apparated to the Burrow.

Severus had always thought the Weasley family to be too big and their home too bizarre. His feet touched ground right before the beginning of the wheat field. Severus felt the boy's hand leave him and then Potter was running so fast he was almost a blur. The Granger girl and the Weasley boy were right outside and they were running as well.

"Harry!" Granger had called, she was smiling so brightly.

The boy reached them quickly and immediately embraced the Weasley boy who hugged him back. Potter was smiling greatly as he came away from the hug and threw his arms around the Granger girl who was laughing now because of whatever the Weasley boy had said. The terrible trio had been reunited. It was then that Mrs. Weasley had come out of the house with her arms open calling out:

"Harry! I'm so glad you're here!" and they were hugging. It was a nauseating reunion to Severus who had not moved. It was a private moment after all and the boy was looking as happy as ever. The Weasley boy had given him another hug; tightly this time lifting him up off the ground and putting him back down, the boy was practically over the moon. Finally the laughter and chatter had died down and Potter turned to see Severus.

"Severus! You should come in, lunch is just about ready!" Mrs. Weasley had called to him.

That was the last thing he would have wanted: to sit at the Weasley dinner table surrounded by them all.

"No, I need to be going," Severus called.

The boy looked a bit put off at his words but he waved good bye to him and then the Granger girl took his hand as well as the Weasley boy's and led them to the house with Mrs. Weasley leading the way.

And the boy was gone and Severus knew it was time to leave but he just stood there watching until they went into the house and the door closed shut. The sky was ever so blue and he felt that perhaps he should have gone in.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter was a bit short but there are many things to come. It will be mostly Harry's POV next chapter. Thank you again for reading.**


	10. Chapter 9: Happy Birthday

**Hi there, I just wanted to let everyone know that how I describe Harry is in the way he is portrayed in the movies, well his looks anyway because he is short with dark brown hair and blue eyes. I also have the previous school years match the books, only taking some scenes from the movies and making references to them throughout the story, I hope this doesn't discourage people from reading but I just wanted to let everyone know so there is no confusion. On with the story:**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Happy Birthday **

Harry couldn't believe how happy he was to be with Ron and Hermione again at The Burrow. He felt like he hadn't seen them in years and his cheeks were sore because he hadn't smiled this much in forever. Mrs. Weasley had given him a warm welcoming as she had prepared a big lunch of potato soup, meat and cheese sandwiches, iced pumpkin juice and a cherry pie. Harry sat across from Ron and Hermione. Mr. Weasley looked cheerful as he sat at the head of the table.

Hermione wore a flowered pink blouse with blue jeans and Ron wore a simple dark blue shirt with faded jeans. Harry looked around at their home and nothing had changed. He saw Mrs. Weasley's clock where Fred and George's faces were under "work".

The sun shone brightly through the kitchen windows even through the curtains and Harry loved the view of the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"Oh Harry, we really missed you, Ron and I were wondering when Dumbledore would let you stay here," Hermione said happily.

"Yeah mate, I didn't think you'd have to stay with your aunt and uncle _that _long," Ron said and then he took a big bite of his sandwich.

Harry wrote down while he chewed his food:

_For a while I didn't think I was going to be able to come._

"It would have been awful to miss your birthday," Hermione replied and took a drink from her glass.

"I wouldn't have allowed it, I would have came and got you myself," Mrs. Weasley said happily as she put another sandwich on Harry's plate. "We're going to have a big party for you Harry dear, Remus and Tonks are going to be here and Kingsley might drop in. Bill will be coming as well with…well, that Fleur girl."

Harry looked at Hermione with a questioning glance and she shook her head somewhat with warning eyes. Harry decided it best not to ask. He hadn't seen Fleur for a long time. Harry wrote down on his notepad:

_Where's Ginny?_

"Probably upstairs writing to Dean Thomas," Ron said with scorn and he rolled his eyes. Harry smiled; it was always humorous when Ron was ticked off.

"Oh Ron, he's really nice to her," Hermione said. "You know how Ginny gets when you try to tell her what to do."

"I can't stand him!"

"Oh come now, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said. "So Harry, Dumbledore says you're doing well with your therapy."

He knew it would have come up sooner rather than later but he still didn't want it to. Harry found it very awkward to talk about his condition if it wasn't with Ms. Gardiner or Professor Snape, he didn't know why and that was confusing. Either way he wrote down neatly:

_They're fine, my therapist is really nice and she helps me a lot with what I'm feeling. Maybe you'll get to meet her. _

"Well that's good that she's helping you," Mrs. Weasley said and she was smiling, her cheeks somewhat rosy.

"Harry, you have to show us," Hermione said suddenly.

Harry was confused for a moment but she went on as Ron looked at her:

"Sign language, we'd love to see it."

"I'm very intrigued about it myself," Mr. Weasley finally spoke. Harry had thought the man was waiting for when it was ok to bring up Harry's muteness; the feeling had been in the room as soon as everyone had sat down and started to eat. Harry knew that it was to be expected but he wasn't going to let it get him down, he had already accepted that he could not speak and he was learning sign language for just that reason. He looked at Hermione and he felt his cheeks grow hot. He was embarrassed.

"Go on Harry, don't be shy," Ron teased him.

He gave Ron a slight glare but sat up straight in his chair. They were all watching him now and his heart beat quickened. Harry took in a breath and signed with much confidence while mouthing:

"I really missed everyone. I'm glad to be here. I don't need a birthday party."

Hermione beamed at him and Ron looked impressed and confused at the same time and Harry laughed silently.

"Oh Harry, that's wonderful," Mrs. Weasley said.

"I think it's very impressive, Harry," Mr. Weasley said and he patted Harry's shoulder.

"But what did you say?" Ron asked.

Harry wrote down quickly what he had said and showed them all.

"I'll have none of that now, you _will _have a party," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Harry!"

Harry turned to see Ginny whose eyes were bright, her long red hair up in a ponytail; she wore a red long sleeved blouse over black jeans. Harry smiled at her and she came over to him. He stood up and she hugged him tightly. It was then that he noticed she had gotten taller than him. He came away from the hug somewhat flushed in the face.

"I didn't know Harry would be here already," Ginny said. "Is that really the time?" Ginny seemed flustered.

"Well maybe if you didn't spend all summer writing to _Dean _you'd be more aware of what's going on," Ron said venomously, his eyes narrowed at his sister.

"Come off it Ronald, just because you don't have a girlfriend yet doesn't mean you need to make others suffer too," Ginny snapped back cheekily.

"Enough you two," Mr. Weasley said.

For the next few moments they all sat around enjoying lunch and chatting, well Harry had to keep writing down replies and passing his notepad around. It caused him a bit of anxiety.

"Harry, congratulations on your O.W.L results," Mrs. Weasley said. "Ron here got seven as well, we're so proud of him."

"Hermione got all Os, ten of 'em," Ron said looking at Harry as if it were the most obvious thing to say.

Hermione went a bit red in the face but smiled somewhat.

When they were done eating Mr. Weasley stood up and said:

"Well, I'll be in the shed, it's nice to have you here Harry," he grinned at him and left the kitchen.

"Alright I best clean up, you kids go on and catch up," Mrs. Weasley said as she waved her wand and the plates started to stack up one on top of the other.

Harry wrote down on his notepad:

_Thank you for having me. _

"You know you're always welcome here, Harry," she said and placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

Harry nodded and he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny went up to Ron's room which was somewhat clean. Harry noticed his trunk and Hedwig's cage and Hedwig herself was perched on Ron's window sill. A nice breeze was being let in through the open window.

"I can't believe you have to have lunch with _Snape_," Ron said to Harry as Harry sat down on his bed. "That's got to be as awkward as it gets, mate."

Harry wrote down his reply as Hermione sat next to him and Ginny sat on the other bed.

_It's not that bad. The food's really good and Snape's pretty decent. _

Ron gave Harry a look and Harry shrugged.

"Oh Ron, it can't be that bad if Harry can vouch for it," Hermione said.

"I still say it's weird, Dad said Remus volunteered to take you to your sessions but Dumbledore shot it down," Ron replied and he pulled up a box of Chocolate Frogs and reached in it and tossed one to Harry who caught it quickly. He tossed out two more to Hermione and Ginny.

"So Harry, what are your sessions like?" Ginny asked.

Harry wrote down his reply quickly:

_I don't really know, she just asks me a lot of questions and we do these little practices, her name is Ms. Gardiner, she's really nice and seeing as how Dumbledore chose her to be the one to help me she has to be good at what she does. They really do help. _

Harry shrugged again as Ginny read his reply. She put on a thin smile as she looked at him.

"Your next one is on your birthday," Hermione said. "It's every Wednesday right?"

Harry nodded but he didn't mind having to go see Ms. Gardiner on his birthday, she was really kind and she made Harry feel accepted in a way he couldn't explain. Harry scribbled:

_Yeah but it's ok, she really is nice, its sometimes fun you know? Because she teaches me sign language and its easy coming from her. She's also teaching me Occlumency, we just started but she said I did well._

"That's wonderful Harry," Hermione replied. "It's good that you're learning it now."

Harry nodded and placed the chocolate frog by his side. Harry wrote something down and showed it to Ron:

_C'mon, enough about me, let's play Quidditch already!_

Ron grinned widely at Harry.

They played for a long while in the Weasley's orchid making Hermione and Ginny join them. Harry's spirits were high because he was so glad to be able to be on his broom again. He did some crazy maneuvers at first to feel the wind in his hair and Hermione gave him a scolding. While Harry was up on his broom he saw the twins Apparate before the wheat field.

"_Oi!_" Ron called after the two who spotted them all in the air and waved at them. Ron went down with Hermione and Ginny. Harry (with the quaffle under his arm) went after them and landed easily. Fred and George were wearing matching blue suits but their ties were different: Fred's was gold and George's was black.

"Hey Harry!" Fred and George said at the same time and they each hugged Harry tightly.

"Mum's been going on about you needing to come home more often," Ron said.

"We're business men now, Ronald, we have responsibilities," George said.

"Not that you would know anything about responsibility," Fred said.

Ron glared at them.

"How are you Harry?" George asked, grinning at him.

Harry gave them the thumbs up sign. Fred swung an arm around Harry's shoulder and said:

"You've got to come see the shop, Harry."

Harry nodded, smiling.

They all went inside because it was dinner time and Mrs. Weasley had made a nice dinner of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with vegetable trimmings. They all sat around the table eating and chatting away. Harry enjoyed the warm atmosphere and how no one talked about anything dealing with the Order or Voldemort or Death Eaters. Fred and George were cracking jokes left and right and Mrs. Weasley was lecturing them about some of their more inappropriate jokes and telling them that they were working too much.

As the moments went on Harry was feeling better than he had in a long while, he was feeling happier and his shoulders felt lighter; maybe it was because he was surrounded by people who were there for him or maybe it was because he was finally around people who cared about whether he was there or not but they were all talking and he held his notepad in his hand staring at everyone around him and he started to feel pressure in his chest and his face was beginning to feel flushed and he suddenly felt like he was being cornered. He didn't know why he was feeling this way; everyone was so happy, everyone was laughing and Fred and George were prodding Ron's ego again and Hermione was telling them to stop picking on him while she laughed with Ginny…so why was he feeling like he didn't belong? He had been so excited to leave the Dursley's, to come to The Burrow but it was like there was something blocking him from them and his happiness was slowly diminishing into something less desirable.

"Harry, are you alright?" came Hermione's voice. She had been sitting next to him.

Harry nodded and wrote down:

_I'm going to go get some air. _

Hermione's smile had faded and she was giving Harry a worried expression. Harry got up from the table and headed toward the front door and Mrs. Weasley had called to him but Hermione told her where he was going and he heard Mr. Weasley whisper:

"Dumbledore said he might find it hard to be around a lot of people, it's alright, Molly."

Harry liked the feel of the cold summer breeze on his face. The stars looked so bright and there were so many and even though he was The Chosen One he felt as insignificant as ever standing underneath them. The night sky looked so big and somewhere an owl was hooting.

"Harry."

Harry turned to Hermione who was being followed by Ron.

"Are you ok?" her voice was soft and she came to his side and Harry looked to her and looked away and nodded.

"Hey mate," Ron said to him. "Let's go inside and play some Exploding Snap or something."

Harry waited for a moment, his ears were getting cold. He nodded finally and the trio headed inside.

The next two days went by faster than Harry had expected; they played a lot of Quidditch, especially when Fred and George came by The Burrow, they helped Mrs. Weasley with some of her cleaning, Harry tried to practice sign language when he wasn't playing games with Ron. Harry found it a bit uncomfortable because Ginny had been acting a bit too nice to him. Harry had known that the girl had admired him for sometime but he thought that had passed because she was older now. Maybe she was just being nice because of what had happened to him. Hermione had finally got Ron and Harry to stop fooling around and they spent time reviewing for the classes they knew they were going to have for their 6th year; when they were finished it was late.

Harry had taken a shower and was dressed in a white shirt and his pajama pants making his way to Ron's room, the door was closed and he heard Ron's and Hermione's voices from within:

"No, it's like this," Hermione's tone was bossy.

"That's how I was doing it," Ron replied.

"No, it's this way, just see how I'm doing it and copy me," Hermione said.

"Alright, alright," Ron said.

"That's better, now the next part is…"

Harry opened the door a bit slowly and found the two sitting on the floor, Hermione in her pajamas as well as Ron but Hermione was already standing up.

"Harry," Hermione said.

Harry smiled awkwardly, he wondered what she and Ron were doing but he decided he shouldn't ask.

"Well, you should get some sleep, you have your session tomorrow," Hermione said finally. "I'll see you two in the morning." She smiled and left the two.

Harry gave Ron a funny questioning look as he walked toward his bed.

"What?" Ron said and Harry just smirked and pulled the covers down and got into bed.

He was standing in a field of golden wheat and the sky above was such a perfect blue; the field seemed to go on forever and ever and there was nothing else. He started to walk forward; the stocks tickled his bare arms. He wondered where everyone was, he wondered why he was out in such a place. It was so quiet; the only thing he could hear was the sound of his breathing. He was lost and he had no one, he had nothing. There was a movement to his right, something black and big. He went to it, he was chasing after it and the thing let out a call that sounded like a bark; it vibrated his senses and it filled the world he was in. He was chasing after the big black dog in front of him, the only thing that existed in this place besides him.

Harry's eyes opened and there was darkness until his vision had adjusted. The clock on the bedside table told him it was midnight. It took only a moment before he realized he was 16 years old now. He moved on his side and rested there not knowing how he felt that he was another year older. He closed his eyes and he could still see so clearly the vastness of the field. His chest hurt and he felt cold as he clutched the blankets tighter to his body. It was his birthday but he didn't feel all that happy about it.

* * *

Severus was early again by twenty minutes this time, it was very unlike himself and he felt very foolish. He made his way over to The Burrow's front door and was greeted by a cheerful Molly Weasley.

"Severus good morning, you're early," she said.

"Yes well I got ahead of myself this morning," he answered.

"Oh well do come in, you have time for some tea, Harry is in the kitchen," she said and she left him standing before the doorway and he had no choice but to enter. As always he found the Weasley home to be too cluttered for his liking. He heard laughter from the kitchen, a girl's laughter and then a boy's. He walked over to the kitchen's entrance and stood watching Potter sitting at the head of the table with the Granger girl sitting close to him on a corner chair and the Weasley boy sat next to her. Potter was cross legged on the chair as he had his hands out, palms flat with the Granger girl's hands placed on top of his. Potter was smiling and Severus wondered what exactly they were doing.

"No, see I'm scared now, you're too fast!" Granger said and she was trying not to laugh, her hands moving away a few times before coming back to where they were on the boy's own.

Suddenly Potter's hands moved out from under hers and he slapped the top of her hands.

"Ow! I'm no good at it, you play Ron again," the girl said as she smiled and laughed; shaking her hands.

"No way, you see how red mine are? He's got no mercy, I really don't like this muggle game," the Weasley boy said chuckling.

The boy was laughing silently but then his head turned to his left and he spotted Severus standing in the doorway.

"Oh, hello Professor Snape," the Granger girl said quickly. The Weasley boy looked a bit pale at the sight of him.

"Granger, Weasley," Severus said in recognition. "Well, Mr. Potter, we should be going."

"What about your tea?" Mrs. Weasley had said hurrying past him into the kitchen.

"I'm quite alright, I'm sure it will be fine if we show up a few minutes early," Severus said.

"Oh well, alright, Harry dear, everyone will be here when you get back, it's going to be lovely," Mrs. Weasley said and Potter stood up.

"See you later, mate," the Weasley boy said.

"Be excited for your surprise," the Granger girl said to him and he waved at them as he walked over to Severus.

The boy wore a cotton dark blue shirt with jeans and white trainers.

"Bye, Harry," Granger called as they exited the kitchen and Mrs. Weasley was smiling.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Harry," Ms. Gardiner had said and signed as soon as Harry had walked into her office.

"Thank you," Harry signed and he gave her a smile back.

He sat on the couch.

"I'm sorry that you have to be here on your birthday, Harry, are you having a party later?" she asked him as she was standing still.

"Yes, just a small one, I don't mind being here," Harry signed.

"You're getting a lot better," she said. Harry noticed her hair was done up with a shiny red clip and she wore thin black robes this time with matching high heels. Her nails were painted with a clear glossed color.

Her dark green eyes were shining bright as she said:

"Ok, close your eyes."

Harry did so and he heard her walking around the room and walk back to where the coffee table was.

"Now open them."

When Harry opened his eyes he saw two things: one was a small rectangular box wrapped in a shiny dark blue wrapping paper with a silver stringed bow tied to it. Next to that was a clear bag with different color polka dots tied with a light blue ribbon. Inside the small package were shortbread cookies shaped like stars and hearts with sprinkles on them.

"Now, the box is from me and the cookies are from my sister," Ms. Gardiner said. "She admires you greatly you know, she's a bit older than you and she makes the _best_ cookies. She insisted she make them for your birthday."

Harry smiled and signed:

"Thank you very much and please tell your sister thank you."

"You're welcome but you haven't opened mine yet," she said.

Harry took the box and unwrapped it with care and opened the black box to reveal a very fine-looking red and gold fountain pen. Harry took it carefully in his hand, it was very well made and on the side of it engraved in the red was his name in gold: _Harry James Potter._

"I thought the one you had needed to retire," Ms. Gardiner said with a smile.

Harry felt a sudden rush to his heart; it was a beautiful pen. He opened the cap to reveal the very fine, sharp gold and silver nib with a small engraved design of an arrow. Harry thought if he could have been able to speak he would have been speechless. He didn't know why but her gift was so heartfelt. Harry placed the pen back in the box carefully.

"Thank you, it's wonderful," Harry signed. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"But it's your birthday, Harry," she said. "Birthday gifts are important; well I believe the thought behind them is important."

Harry smiled at her.

"I hear you are staying with friends now for the rest of the summer?" Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry nodded.

"How has that been? Do you feel ok around that many people?"

Harry waited for a moment and then he had to remember how to sign some words that he wanted to say:

"I feel anxious and overwhelmed at times but I am happy there."

"It's to be expected from trauma victims," she simply said. "Now Harry, today I want you to tell me about some of the dreams you have been having, is that ok?"

Harry hesitated for a moment and then nodded. Harry's expression grew a bit sad and his eyes looked up at her and he started to sign a bit slowly:

"One dream…I have, it is in different places sometimes, but I'm chasing after my mom and my dad and I can't reach them no matter how fast I run and they just leave me behind." He took a breath and had to remember some words again. "They don't look back; they don't know I'm there."

"Is that all that happens in those dreams Harry?" she asked after a moment.

Harry shook his head and signed:

"Sometimes I see Voldemort and he winds up hurting me in some way and sometimes I fall for a long time and then…I see my godfather and he is falling too. I want to save him but I can't reach him either." He had to fingerspell "Voldemort" and his eyes looked a bit strained and the sunlight caught them and filled them with a bright glow.

"They always end with him one way or another…" Harry signed. "I can never get to him…"

"It's ok Harry, most of the time our subconscious reveals to us our inner desires, what we need or what we want to happen. It speaks to us in ways that might take a while to understand clearly but Harry, you are grieving, you miss your godfather, that's normal. It hasn't been that long. You're so full of memories you have of him and I know it hurts," her voice was so gentle and Harry knew that she wasn't telling him how he felt or trying to understand him, she could just see it on her own. It was like Snape had said; he wore his heart on his sleeve.

Harry's eyes held tears in them and he signed:

"I sometimes wish it were me. If he hadn't tried to save me and I hadn't tried to save him then we would still be together…"

A warm hand took his right hand and held it there above the table. She looked at him and she said kindly:

"We all have our regrets Harry, many try to say to live without them but that can be difficult. Without regret there can be no forgiveness." She let his hand go.

Harry wiped his eyes quickly and waited in the silence of the room; he could see the dust particles lit up by sunlight; they were dancing around, moving throughout the room, moving without purpose but just being there. He felt that way; he was just here and he was moving around but he didn't know where to go.

"I don't think I can forgive myself." Harry signed finally and his lips shook somewhat.

"It's alright, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said. "You give it time and maybe you will be able to, someday."

Harry nodded slowly and the quiet in the room filled him up with unease and he signed her the question he had been wanting to ask her as soon as he had sat down:

"Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything, Harry."

"But…can you promise not to tell Professor Snape…please?" Harry signed and his eyes were worried now.

"I promise," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry had to wait a moment again as he began to sign because he needed to think of the signs for a few words:

"When Professor Snape was trying to teach me Occlumency," Harry finger spelled "Snape" and "Occlumency". "I did something…bad…something I shouldn't have done and as a result he stopped teaching me and was angry with me." Harry had to sign slowly. "Last week, I wrote him a letter of apology…because I couldn't take that guilt…I gave the letter to Snape…" Harry was afraid but he finally signed. "Snape got more than angry and he attacked me…"

"Harry, did he hurt you?" Ms. Gardiner suddenly looked worried and alert.

Harry waved his hands to stop her from over reacting.

"No! Well yes but I understood his anger," Harry signed quickly, his mouth flapping was a bit too fast. "Well I didn't really understand it but I could see that he needed to…let go…of…" Harry was getting confused with his signs as he was growing nervous. "It's like me! I lost it too, in front of Professor Dumbledore, I was so angry because of my godfather and everything…" Harry was signing so fast his hands were smacking a little too hard together.

Ms. Gardiner still looked upset.

"He…did hurt me but he made it all better and he apologized, look he didn't mean what happened," Harry signed with difficulty. "Please understand, I'm really ok, I wasn't mad at all at what he did."

"Harry, Professor Snape's anger doesn't justify him assaulting you," Ms. Gardiner said. "He could have done some irreversible damage."

Harry looked at her with a slight pleading and signed:

"You promised, please don't tell him I told you."

"I won't tell him Harry…You can trust me but if it ever happens again I can't promise anything then," she said after a moment with a serious look that Harry had never seen before but then she smiled, seeming to let it go and said:

"Would you like to play some chess with me, Harry?"

A weak smile came to his face and he nodded. They played muggle chess. Ms. Gardiner owned a glass set. She was white and Harry was black. At first Harry thought he was doing ok but she turned out to be very good at the game and he lost quickly.

"You're better than my friend, Ron," Harry signed and finger spelled Ron first since he was the subject. "And he's brilliant at the game."

"Thank you Harry, maybe I should teach you a few tricks of my own," she said.

An hour went by as they played the game and signed with each other. Harry didn't win at all but he learned some things he might be able to use against Ron during wizard's chess.

"Look at the time Harry, we're all done for today, now what I want you to do over the next week before you go to sleep is to try to clear your mind by the way we did before, ok Harry?" Ms. Gardiner said to him.

Harry nodded.

"And also, I've spoken to Dumbledore about this, next week you'll be having a group therapy session, I'll be leading it and you'll be around my muggle patients Harry, is that alright with you? Most of them are deaf so they use BSL; you'll be able to communicate fine with them."

Harry thought for a moment of how it would feel to be around strangers and then he signed:

"If they are muggles then the session won't be here?"

"No, it will take place where my other office is, it's in London, it's not too far from here," she replied. "Dumbledore said it will be alright but he will have to have some Aurors nearby to make sure you're safe," Ms. Gardiner got to her feet and Harry stood as well.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she said once more.

"Do you want to come to my party?" Harry's cheeks grew hot as he signed this rather quickly.

"Oh no thank you Harry, I'd feel as if I were intruding," she said.

"But you're so nice, I'm sure everyone will like you," Harry's face was burning as he signed his reply.

"You're such a gentleman Harry but I think its best I don't go," Ms. Gardiner declined sweetly.

Harry nodded in defeat and signed:

"Thank you again for the presents."

"You're quite welcome Harry; I hope you have a wonderful party and please be careful," she smiled and watched him pick up his gifts. She opened the door and waved good bye as Harry waved back and left the room.

* * *

Harry saw Snape sitting like always reading a book. It had surprised him because the man always wore dark colors but today Snape had on a light blue dress shirt; he still wore the black over coat and black slacks with those shiny shoes. It was just the dress shirt and its color that made Harry feel like he was standing in front of a stranger.

"Mr. Potter, all done are we?" Snape said and he stood up quickly. His eyes glanced over the two gifts in Harry's hands.

Harry nodded.

"Well I shall be back momentarily."

Harry sat down and watched the man go. For some reason he wondered if Snape knew it was his birthday today and then he thought quite quickly after that why should it matter?

* * *

"Good afternoon Professor," Ms. Gardiner greeted him.

Severus thought he should have skipped this relay today; he had no desire to see this woman.

"Afternoon," he replied.

"Are you in a bad mood today, Professor?" she wasn't smiling at him which was odd; she was looking at him a bit seriously.

"I _really _don't think that's any of your business," Severus answered.

"I suppose not," Ms. Gardiner said as she stood there before her desk. "Harry and I discussed some of the dreams he's been having and we played chess and that's all. Seeing as how it is his birthday I really didn't want to put too much pressure on him."

Severus didn't reply, he only nodded and he was still standing. There was tension in the office and he didn't know what was causing it; maybe it was just because they both disliked the other.

"Well if that _is_ all I will be going," Severus said finally.

"Have a good day Professor Snape," she said to him and those dark green eyes seemed to tell him something cruel.

* * *

Potter stood up when he walked over to him.

"Mr. Potter, I would understand it if you would like to skip our appointed lunch today considering what day it is," Severus said.

The boy took out his notepad and wrote down something and held it out for him to read:

_Its fine, my party isn't until later. I want to have lunch with you. _

Severus gave the boy a look and wondered if Potter actually meant what he had written or if he just put it down to be polite.

"Right then, let's go shall we?" Severus said quickly.

They arrived at The Fish Bowl and took the same seats once again. Coincidentally Kim was their waitress again. Severus guessed she must always work on Wednesdays.

"Hello _again_," she said cheerfully. "Is this a new tradition for the two of you?"

"Yes well just for the summer," Severus said and she placed the menus down.

"Alright well I'll leave you two to decide and I'll be back in a bit," Kim smiled and left.

He watched the boy open the menu, trying to decide what he would like. Severus looked at the boy's gifts again and wondered what was in the black box. Potter took out his notepad and pen and Severus said with a bit of edge to his voice:

"Sign what you would like; I…can understand it for the most part."

Potter gave him such a questioning look it was almost comical and then the boy signed slowly to him:

"You know sign language?"

"Well Professor Dumbledore thought it would be best that I should learn it since you've taken to it so well…" he knew his voice sounded restrained as he came up with the words; he normally was very good at lying.

The boy smiled somewhat and said:

"Professor Dumbledore wanted you to learn?" Severus watched as the boy finger spelled "Dumbledore" rather quickly.

"Yes, is that so hard to believe Mr. Potter?"

"Not at all," the boy signed and gave him a cheeky grin.

"So do you know what you would like to eat Mr. Potter?" Severus asked.

The boy looked up from his menu and signed:

"Chicken salad and tomato soup for the choice of side."

Severus found it hard to believe that he took quite easy to understanding sign language but he wouldn't dare to use it himself.

"With that…Coca-Cola drink you always get?" Severus asked and the boy nodded.

"Ok, so are we ready?" the girl named Kim asked when she came back.

"Yes, we would like two chicken salads and tomato soups for the side," Severus said and Potter gave him a glare.

"And to drink?"

"Iced tea and a Coca-Cola," he answered and she took the menus from him.

"Thank you, your soups will be out in a moment," Kim said and she gave the boy a wink and left the table.

"Why did you get the same thing as me?" Potter signed with a gruff look.

"I merely wished to have the same thing Mr. Potter," he said. He found the boy's expression amusing.

"Right," Potter signed. "I think you did it to annoy me."

"I would never do such a thing," Severus said.

And the boy smiled and Severus realized how easy it was to get the boy to smile which bothered him more than it should have.

"What's in the box, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Potter took up the black box and opened it and pulled out a very fine looking fountain pen.

"A gift from Ms. Gardiner?" Severus said tightly.

The boy nodded and Severus saw the engraved name on the side as it caught the sunlight. Severus picked up the old pen by the boy's notepad. It looked very worn and the clip had broken off. It was an ordinary pen, not nearly as expensive as the boy's present. The boy put the pen back in the box gently.

There tomato soups arrived with a side of bread rolls and their drinks. The waitress set their napkins down and utensils and left to see to another table. He watched Potter eat his soup, blowing softly at the spoonfuls for it was quite hot. Severus ate his without much interest. The soup was good but he was feeling a bit uneasy. The restaurant was almost full today and the chatter around was louder than normal.

"Who made the sweets?" Severus asked when his bowl was empty.

The boy wiped his mouth on his napkin before signing:

"Ms. Gardiner's little sister. She's a muggle. Ms. Gardiner told me that she admires me and wanted to give me a birthday present."

"I see," Severus said.

Potter took another roll and broke off a piece and ate it. His eyes were full of light and had an emotion in them that he could not read. Maybe the boy was remembering something. Potter seemed relaxed today; his hands weren't shaking too much. His hair looked like it had when term was over, Mrs. Weasley must have cut it.

There salads arrived quickly, drizzled with Caesar dressing and the chicken was grilled finely. Moments went on and they ate in silence, he wondered why the boy didn't seem to be in a hurry.

"When is your party, Mr. Potter?"

Potter set down his fork and signed:

"At four, why?"

"I don't want to make you late," Severus answered truthfully.

"It's fine," the boy signed. "I didn't want a party; I don't do well around too many people right now."

"Do you think you'll do alright?" his voice was somewhat sincere.

The boy waited for a moment and signed his answer:

"I don't know."

When they were finished eating, Kim had asked if they wanted dessert but Severus declined kindly and paid, giving the girl a large tip like always. Potter didn't seem surprised that they were not staying to have dessert. When they were outside it was then that Severus turned to the boy and said:

"Mr. Potter, if you think you have the time, I would like for you to accompany me on a little trip."

"A trip to where?" Potter signed.

"Mr. Potter, do you want to come with me or not?"

He watched the boy give him a questioning look and then think for a moment and then sign:

"Ok, I'll go with you."

"Then take my arm."

* * *

Harry felt the unsteady ground beneath him when they Apparated to wherever Snape had wanted to go. Snape had placed a hand on his back to steady him. It was then that his eyes opened and he took in a breath at the sight before him.

They had come to a beach, a beautiful beach. The ocean water was laid out before him and it was an infinite blanket of such a clear blue; it must have gone on forever. The water sparkled from the dazzling sun above it. The sky was painted with sapphire. The air smelt of the sea and the sand and the warmth. He had never seen the ocean before and it was startling, it was so beautiful.

Harry's shoes had sunk into the sand slightly; he looked around to see the high rich green hills that stretched out all around them and there wasn't a soul in sight. The land wrapped around the large place as if it was its own private area, its own piece of the world.

"This is Oxwich Bay, in South Wales," came Snape's voice. "I thought since it is summer…"

But Harry didn't hear him after that because he was emptying his pockets, taking off his shoes and his socks, folding up his pant legs, taking off his glasses and pulling his shirt off and running across the softest sand to the waves that seemed to call to him. It was amazing, it was as if he had never felt this kind of freedom before, like it was something kept secret from him and he was just now finding out about it. He could feel his whole body radiate with a happiness he didn't know as the ocean wind felt blissful against his bare chest. The water was perfect when his feet splashed to it. He was captivated, controlled by this place, hypnotized. It wasn't long before he dived into the bluest of waters and he was swimming against the gentle waves that fell over him.

He had dived under, lost in how everything felt to his body. It was healing to him; he forgot everything except that he was here in this place, in the ocean that now surrounded him. He broke the surface taking in a deep breath and treaded water. He looked to the shoreline; he had swum a bit of ways out. It was somewhat blurry and he was breathing hard. He could see Snape; the man had taken off his over coat and dress shoes. Harry was surprised to see that he had his feet in the water, standing there as the breeze tossed his clothes somewhat and his hair. He was staring out onto the horizon to where Harry was.

It was strange that Snape had taken him here but Harry hadn't felt hesitant at all, maybe it was just too perfect of a place, a place like this he had only seen in photographs and heard people talk about. The ocean waves moved him back and forth as he waded there feeling the sun on his face, it could have been a different sun altogether. It was so silent except for the sound of the waves and the shore. He swam forward and laid on his back and floated there, tasting the salt water on his lips and he couldn't believe how alive he was. For once he wasn't worried about anything, he wasn't anyone, he wasn't scared of anything.

He dived under again and could barely see the ocean floor of sand that was almost white and seashells that gleamed from the reflection of the water. He picked up one and came back to the surface again. Not in a million years did he think that someone like Snape would take him to such a place. But there the man was; standing in the ocean with his own pant legs rolled up. Harry was growing a bit tired keeping himself afloat so he swam as far in to where he could stand, the water splashing against his chest. He jumped up as the waves came at him so they didn't splash over him. He was smiling and he didn't care what time it was; he wanted to be here. After a few more moments though he unwillingly made his way back to the shore, his jeans were a little heavy on him, hugging low on his hips. He smelt of the ocean now which he didn't mind.

He got to the sand, out of breath and laid down upon it, it was so hot to his skin but it felt good. He didn't care if it stuck to his skin or his wet hair. He could fall asleep here; he could live here and forget everything. When he opened his eyes Snape was standing a few inches away from him, he had his shoes back on. Harry sat up and it was a moment before the man said:

"I take it that you enjoy it here."

Harry waited and even though it was Snape he was with he signed:

"It's perfect. I've never been to the beach, ever."

He wiped his hands of the sand and stood and walked back to the water so his feet sunk into the wet sand. The water moved back and forth, slowly like an ideal rhythm making him feel like the waters were taking him forward.

"You were out there for a while; you shouldn't miss your party Mr. Potter," Snape said behind him.

But Harry didn't want to leave such a wonderful place even if Snape was here with him. Harry turned to Snape and signed:

"Just one more time?"

"If you must," Snape said and his face didn't look annoyed or angry, he looked relaxed as if he didn't care how many times Harry swam back out.

It was a while before Harry came back to the shore and put his shirt and glasses back on. He put his wand in his wet pocket. Snape walked over to him and it was then that Harry looked to him, out of breath and overly happy that he realized that this, this gesture, this place, was Snape's gift to him; a birthday gift to _him_. And they just stared at each other within the sound of the waves and wind and birds they could not see. Why was this so different from those days way back then? Snape had been so evil, so hateful and Harry had hated him too but Snape didn't look that way now, not here in this place. He was just a man that Harry didn't know much about. The breeze had gotten a bit stronger as it blew at their clothes.

"Happy Birthday, Mr. Potter," Snape said to him.

Harry signed in return:

"Thank you for taking me here."

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione said as she opened the door. He knew she hadn't expected to see him with wet pants, slightly sunburned cheeks and bits of beach sand in his damp hair. She looked around as if to see Snape but the man had gone even though Harry had asked him to stay for the party. She then looked up and down him again and smiled awkwardly. She wore a pink party dress with a dark red ribbon and white lace around the waist. It fell just above her knees. She wore pink, open toed heels with a small white flower by the clasps.

"What happened to you?"

Harry's hands held his two gifts, a seashell, his notepad and pen so he couldn't really reply.

"Harry, where have you been?" Ron asked as he came to the door. He wore a dark blue dress shirt with black slacks and a belt.

Harry smiled awkwardly and then Mrs. Weasley came to the front door:

"Harry, you're back! Ron, let the boy in!"

Harry came into the living room with them all and noticed the large sparkling banner that read:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!

There were many decorations all around the room of snitches and owls and streamers and a pile of birthday gifts on the large coffee table. He could hear laughter and lots of talking in the kitchen.

"Harry dear, why don't you go upstairs to change and we'll all be ready for you when you come back down?" Mrs. Weasley said quickly as Harry's face burned with embarrassment. He wondered how late he was. Ron and Hermione watched as Harry raced upstairs. He quickly put his things in his trunk except for his notepad and pen. He got undressed and took the fastest shower he had taken in his life and it got rid of the itchiness on his skin. His neck stung from the sunburn as did his cheeks. He got out quickly and dressed in black dress pants, a gray button up dress shirt (having to do the buttons twice since he mismatched them the first time). He put on a belt and brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He put on dress shoes over black socks and (almost forgetting his glasses) raced back downstairs.

Everyone was standing under the banner: Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, Fleur, Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, Ron and Hermione. Harry watched as they all raised their hands somewhat and said loudly and happily as well as signing clearly all together:

"Surprise! Happy birthday Harry!"

Harry smiled as his eyes stung a bit. He knew what Hermione's surprise had been now and his heart ached a bit with good feelings as they all hugged him tightly, Fleur had kissed both his cheeks in greeting saying:

"'Arry, eet 'as been too long!"

"Wotcher Harry," came Tonk's voice and Harry got a glimpse of her bright pink hair.

"It's good to see you, Harry," Remus said to him and hugged him tightly.

After a few more hugs Harry was feeling a bit breathless.

"Alright everyone, into the kitchen! Dinner's ready!" Mrs. Weasley called happily.

To Harry it all happened in a blur. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits as they all sat around the table (charmed to be longer with more chairs) and enjoyed Harry's birthday dinner (more of a feast really). He had wished Mrs. Weasley hadn't gone through so much trouble. Turning 16 wasn't that big of a deal. Once again there was no talk of anything about the Order or Voldemort; Harry wondered if Dumbledore had passed the message on about him needing to avoid stress. Everyone was dressed nicely too, especially Fleur who wore a golden party dress with her hair done up. He realized that she was sitting rather close to Bill who kept looking at her and smiling and Mrs. Weasley kept glancing over to him and then he figured it out: they were a couple.

Ginny sat next to him and had been talking to him quite a bit but he had turned to Hermione and wrote down a message:

_Do you know sign language?_

"Well yes, mostly, I'm still learning, I just taught everyone that bit for your surprise but ever since you told me you were learning I went and got some books myself and watched some videos at home. I've been trying to teach Ron," Hermione smiled.

Harry smiled back and looked to Ron who was sitting next her.

"It's bloody hard, no offense Harry but it'll probably take me a while," Ron said.

Harry just smiled brighter and laughed. The kitchen had such a glow about it as everyone ate and drank. Fred and George were up to their normal conversations consisting of jokes and telling Bill and Remus about their products. When dinner was done Mrs. Weasley brought out a large 4 tiered cake with tiny golden snitches all around the ends. Everyone clapped as he had blown out the 16 candles around the cake. It tasted delicious. There was music playing now and the sun was setting. It wasn't long before Harry was made to open his gifts: Ron had got Harry a new wizard's chess set, Hermione had gotten him a new BSL book, Mrs. Weasley had knitted Harry a very soft dark blue sweater, Tonk's had gotten Harry a new set of Quidditch gloves, Remus gave Harry a box of Swiss chocolate, Fred and George had given Harry a big box of their Weasleys' Wizard Weezes products, Fleur and Bill had given Harry a nice charcoal gray leather jacket and Ginny gave him a package of Honeydukes sweets.

He had thanked them all in sign for their gifts. For the remainder of the party everyone was in the living room having drinks and talking and listening to music that came from the wireless radio. Harry had stood a bit away from them all as he watched everyone. When it was late and everyone was leaving Harry gave out his final hugs. Bill and Fleur were staying. Mrs. Weasley was at the door saying good bye to Fred and George while Mr. Weasley said his goodbyes to Kingsley, Remus and Tonks.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all in Ron's room now all sitting on the floor as Harry put away his presents.

"Harry, why were you late? Your pants were all wet and sandy and your hair," Hermione asked Harry.

Harry waited for a moment and his cheeks burned and not from the sunburn. He signed to her:

"Professor Snape took me to Oxwich Bay for a birthday present." Harry could understand why Hermione's face became confused.

"Professor Snape took you to the beach…for a birthday present?" Hermione said.

"_What?_" Ron said looking flabbergasted. "Snape? _The_ Snape?"

Harry signed quickly:

"It was nice, I have never been to a beach before, Dumbledore probably told him to do it." But somehow Harry doubted it was Dumbledore's idea. "You know, for stress relief…"

"What's he saying?" Ron asked and Ginny looked surprised.

"That it was probably Dumbledore's idea to relieve stress," Hermione answered but her face looked stern. "Harry, don't you find it funny that Professor Snape is…well that you…Harry I thought you hated Snape."

Harry felt like he was being cornered. He signed, moving his mouth fast:

"I don't know. I just, he hasn't been all that nasty to me these past weeks…I said he was decent…" Harry didn't know how to continue. It was weird, he didn't know why Snape was being this way to him and he definitely didn't know how to explain it to his friends.

"Maybe he just feels sorry for me or something, like I'm too pathetic to make fun of right now…" Harry lied as he signed these words.

Hermione gave him a strange look and she straightened down her dress and Harry signed:

"You look pretty by the way, Ron better have said so."

Hermione blushed and laughed and Ron looked at them questioningly:

"What's this about? I need to learn this, it's like you two have a secret code or something," Ron said.

"Oh Ronald," Hermione said but she was giggling still and Harry was glad he avoided any more questions. "I'm teaching you, you just have to practice."

"Right," Ron said stubbornly.

* * *

As Harry lay in bed feeling the sunburn on his cheeks more than he had before he could still hear the waves and the ocean breeze. He didn't know why he was feeling so happy. It was so much in one day and Snape had been more than decent to him, he had actually been kind, taking him to such a place, letting him stay there for almost two hours; Harry couldn't understand it, he didn't understand Snape. What made him do it? What made him give Harry something like that? Something perfect? He didn't know but today had been the best birthday he had ever had despite being mute. And all he dreamed of was the ocean and its vastness and the waves drifting in and out of the shore.

* * *

**Sorry it took longer than I expected to get this chapter up, it's a bit long but I hope you enjoyed it and thank you all for reading. Next chapter will be up soon. **


	11. Chapter 10: Reserved

**Sorry for the chapter being late again, I had to do some research which took a while but here it is. **

**Some text has been used from Book 6.**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Reserved **

_It had just been a foolish idea at first that had came to him and he wanted to deny himself ever having it but the day had wore on and his mind kept coming back to it, touching at it briefly at times and then staying for whole minutes just thinking it could be possible. He didn't believe the boy would ever enjoy going somewhere with him no matter if it was a beach as beautiful as Oxwich Bay. He thought it best not to divulge in his personal desire to do such a thing but was becoming selfish and he started to believe that he was becoming careless. He finally gave in and asked the Headmaster for permission where it was given almost too quickly. He could take the boy there._

_ Severus had gone to that place many of times to relieve his mind of the great burdens placed upon it, to get away from everything actually. The Dark Lord would never know because he would not allow him to know. Dare he give the boy such a gift? It seemed unwise, impossible that Potter would enjoy anything he would give to him, that it was impossible for him to be the reason for the boy to smile. And this was his problem: He wanted to make Potter smile. Perhaps it was just because he was getting so tired of the boy looking so utterly depressed but he knew he was just lying to himself. Lying to himself was good, it kept those thoughts hidden where they needed to be hidden because those thoughts were dangerous especially to the Dark Lord. It was times like these that Severus hated being a servant to him._

_ He had little of the freedoms he now wanted. He wanted to break away, to be liberated of his burden but it was far too late for such a thing. It had practically killed him to know that Potter was not like his father, to realize such a thing and now he found himself enjoying the things he discovered about the boy. It was dangerous, it was unwise, but he couldn't stop himself and that was why it was foolish. Though Severus thought that whatever time he had left not having to do the work of both sides he could try to spend it trying to be someone different. It was hard to deal with this and to hide this but he was a smart man and a cunning man. _

_ So he gave into his desire and had asked the boy to join him on such a trip to this beach. The reaction he got was one he would never have foretold. Potter had been ecstatic. He had been so eager to get to those waves and Severus was surprised to see the boy strip himself of everything besides his pants and run across the sand and dive into the ocean's waves. Severus was surprised because his heart had beat faster; an action that hadn't happened in such a while because he was always so calm and collected and demanding. It was so different, like it had taken place in another world where he wasn't who he was now and Potter was just someone who he wished to be acquainted with. But they stood on opposite sides and Severus wanted to cross that line and he hated himself for it, he hated that he wanted to be here with the boy where no one else could steal away the time he had with him and this petrified him. What was happening? Why had he brought the boy here? What were his intentions? Was it really just to give him a birthday present like so many were to give the boy that same day? Was it a competition? Did he really have to best them all, he being the one and only to put such bliss in the boy's heart? _

_ It should have been madness because he was supposed to be cold, bitter and ugly but he'd be lying to himself if he really, truly wanted to be that way. Yes, it was madness, it was nasty; the way he felt. He couldn't stop his mind from thinking that he could keep the boy here, keep him away from all the darkness and hopelessness he would feel one way or another, the pain, the grief, the guilt. This could be the boy's home, the boy's cage. Oh why? Why did these thoughts keep slithering into his head? They were too much. They were evil. They were unbelievable even to him. It was like a sickness that spread all over him and he could not rid himself of it because those eyes that captured the ocean's reflection so simply, so perfectly, they tortured him._

_ It was painful to stand in the waters and realize he was asking for something he could not have. There was no way and even being the intelligent man he was he could not come up with a way. It was truly impossible, unattainable. Perhaps just standing from afar watching the boy, watching forever, perhaps that would be enough. It should be enough. _

_ Was Potter really so trusting of him? To come to a place with just the two of them? He doubted it but the boy seemed to care of nothing more than just being in this place. He thought if he hadn't reminded the boy of his engagement if Potter would have remembered at all and that gave him a piece of small gratification._

* * *

_ "I really did not expect Harry to be burdened with his condition for so long," Dumbledore said as he sat in his chair with an empty tea cup in front of him. _

_ "His therapist said that most cases overcome their loss in a few weeks time," Severus replied. He sat in the same chair as always with his cup of tea half drunken. "She fears that Potter will not be able to speak again for quite some time. Headmaster," Severus sat forward in his chair, "…the boy is afraid to be around people, I can see it, I doubt it goes unnoticed by the others as well, do you really think he should return this term?" _

_ "Severus, Harry is safest here at Hogwarts, this school by itself protects its students, these walls are Harry's escape," Dumbledore answered him strongly._

_ "The Dark Lord has said nothing referring to Potter's muteness, with the loss of so many of his servants I believe he thinks he is without a driving force, seeing as how it took such cautious planning to infiltrate the Ministry. He wishes to control it _completely_ however he remains silent about his wishes…for now." Severus placed his hands on his knees. _

_ "I doubt it will stay that way, Severus," Dumbledore said wearily."All we can do is keep Harry safe. Remus will accompany you with Harry's next session. I will have the Ministry place Aurors around the vicinity under concealment. I trust everything will go as desired if no one else knows of Harry's whereabouts."_

_ "Yes, Headmaster, but I do not need Lupin's assistance; I am more than capable of making sure the boy is _well_ protected," Severus said with lowered eyes._

_ "It is not up for debate, Severus," the old wizard said with his eyes piercing his own. "I think Harry will find Remus's company as a sort of relief, Harry is quite nervous around strangers."_

_ "The boy is just as comfortable with me as with anyone else from the Order," Severus snapped. The words had come out before he could stop them and Dumbledore gave him a look that Severus could not calculate. _

_ "Well Severus, even so Remus will be going," Dumbledore finally said. _

_ There was silence for a few moments before Severus spoke:_

_ "Are you going to tell me where you have been going this past week?" _

_ "I do not think so, no," Dumbledore answered. "Some things Severus are best left discussed when they matter to be discussed."_

_ Severus glared at the old wizard wondering what was going on in that aged mind of his. He got to his feet after a minute, ready to leave. _

_ "Remember Severus, Harry's protection comes before anything else." _

_ Severus did not know if this was the man stating the obvious or if it was a warning._

* * *

It had been a fine morning he had woken up to. Harry had been so unwilling to leave his dreams however because he had been dreaming of the ocean again but Ron kept smacking him and jumped on his bed, pulling the covers off him. He doubted Ron would ever do this if it weren't for the fact they were going to Diagon Alley today. They had gotten their Hogwarts letters the day after Harry's birthday and it was Saturday now. Mrs. Weasley had arranged it and Mr. Weasley finally had the day off.

It had been just yesterday that Remus Lupin had visited telling them of some gruesome news. Igor Karkaroff's body had been found in a shack up north with the Dark Mark above it. It had made Harry feel glum all day because for a while he didn't even want to believe Voldemort existed and that was very foolish but Harry couldn't help it, he already had a big problem on his hands with his condition and he had no idea when he would get better and not being able to perform most spells made him feel so vulnerable. Hermione had told him the theory of nonverbal spells but he couldn't try it until they were at Hogwarts.

Harry had finally awoken, shoving Ron a bit to get off but he was bigger than Harry. The boy ruffled his hair and smacked him again and said in an elated voice:

"Come on mate! I want to see Fred and George's shop and who knows how long we'll get there!"

Harry glared at him and he finally let Harry up who rubbed his eyes. He got dressed in some blue jeans, a thin long sleeve gray shirt and white trainers. Ron was already dressed in a maroon jumper and dark blue jeans with a hole in the knee and brown trainers. It was then that Hermione rushed in wearing a knee high white waved skirt, a light green blouse and a thin dark green jumper with white flats.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said and signed happily.

"Oh, yeah," Ron said and he mimicked her signing somewhat sloppily.

Harry smiled at them and went to brush his teeth and comb his hair.

It had been a quick breakfast fry up this morning since they were in a hurry. Bill had given Harry a bag full of his gold at the table.

"It's been taking about five hours for people to get their gold out at the moment since the goblins have made security so tight," Bill informed him.

Harry nodded and wrote down "Thank you" and showed it to the man.

"'E is always so thoughtful," Fleur said in a fluttery voice and kissed Bill softly on the cheek.

Harry saw Ginny who mimed vomiting behind them and had to stop himself from smiling.

A few minutes later Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill were all set to go. They were taken to Charing Cross Road by one of the special Ministry of Magic cars. Harry had brought his back pack with him which had his bag of gold in it. They were to meet up with the rest of Harry's security at the Leaky Cauldron who turned out to be: Hagrid, Remus, Tonks, and Moody which Harry had been surprised to see and extra surprised to see Hagrid who gave him a bone-crushing hug. There were only a few people in the Leaky Cauldron which seemed to have lost its normal vibe about the place. Hagrid waved to Tom the barkeep who waved unenthusiastically back at them all.

They went through the magical brick gateway and stepped under the archway to reveal a slightly different looking Diagon Alley. The windows of most shops were covered by Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of the posters were taken from the security advice pamphlets that came with _The Daily Prophe_t; advice on how to avoid being attacked. Others were of black and white moving photographs of Death Eaters still on the loose. There was a shabby looking stall that was up in front of Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning. It had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:

**AMULETS**

**Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi**

Harry caught sight of the little wizard managing the stalls and he was staring at Harry, rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at those who past by. Diagon Alley was a little crowded, wizards and witches were pushing past each other trying to get to shops in a hurry. Harry felt the now familiar pressure on his chest; the anxiety was taking hold of him again.

"Harry dear, are you alright? Maybe you should have stayed back home," Mrs. Weasley said as her hand came behind his back.

Harry shook his head quickly. He could do this, he just had to keep taking in deep breaths and just focus on trying to relax. Bill, Remus, Tonks, Hagrid and Moody sort of spread out along the shops trying to look inconspicuous. They did their shopping at Madam Malkin's. Ron needed new robes and basically every part of his uniform except his ties and belt because he had gotten so tall. Harry envied him slightly but decided to get fitted for new white uniform shirts and vests. He bought some new school dress shoes while Hermione was fitted for new robes, shirts, a cardigan, and a vest. Ginny had to get new robes and dress shirts as well. When they were all done they went over to Flourish and Blotts and Harry looked over his school book list:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 6)_ by Miranda Goshawk

_Advanced Potion-Making_ by Libatius Borage

_Confronting the Faceless _

_A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration _by Emeric Switchd

The store wasn't so packed; Harry guessed it was because people went in and out, not wanting to stay and chat. They bought all of their school books; Hermione had to get a few more than Harry and Ron. The next stop was the Apothecary where Harry, Hermione, and Ginny had to stock up on ingredients, Ron was ushering them to speed their shopping up excited to go see the twins' shop but they made another stop at Eeylops Owl Emporium to buy boxes of nuts for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon. Finally, they headed farther along the street to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Now remember we haven't got too long, we'll just have a quick look around and then we need to go straight back to the car," Mrs. Weasley said to them.

"_Blimey_," Ron let out.

They all stopped in front of Fred and George's shop. It was a large purple brick building. The left-hand window was dazzlingly and full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked. The right hand window was covered with an enormous poster and it was emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

**WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT**

**YOU-KNOW-WHO?**

**YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT**

**U-NO-POO—**

**THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION **

**THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!**

Harry couldn't hold in his silent laughter and nor could Ron who let out:

"This is bloody brilliant!"

"What are they thinking!?" Mrs. Weasley said in a worried tone as she gazed at the poster.

Ron led Harry and the rest into the shop. It was packed with people; Harry could barely see the shelves let alone reach them. He started to glance around, looking at all the boxes that were piled high enough to reach the ceiling. There were bins full of their colorful products all over the store: some were filled with trick wands or special quills. Harry didn't know any other place filled with so much color or laughter. He admired Fred and George's ambition and how they created something this extraordinary.

"Harry…" Hermione said as she managed to squeeze her way through the crowd to join him. "Are you ok in here? I can barely walk!"

"I'll be fine…if I stay here," Harry signed but more customers started to gather around in the big shop and he was being pressed into a bin.

"Harry!"

Harry and Hermione looked up to see Fred who had made his way over to them. "How are you two?"

"This is an amazing place!" Hermione chimed.

"Why thank you, Hermione," Fred said as he beamed at her. "Come on Harry, I'll give you the tour."

Harry shook his head but he was smiling.

"Harry's ok right here, there's a bit too many people in here," Hermione said.

Harry was looking at a bin of Shield Charm Hats and Cloaks and his eyes fell on a box full of black shiny rocks called Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

"George and I have a whole line of Defense Against the Dark Arts products, there a real money spinner," Fred said.

"And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the shelves, look," George had appeared out of nowhere to join his brother. "You just drop one and it'll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion when you need one."

Harry looked at the small box by George that was full of weird-looking black horn-type objects. He nodded in reply and smiled again.

"Here," Fred said, catching a couple and throwing them to Harry. "You help yourself to anything you want, ok? No charge."

Harry shook his head roughly, becoming flustered.

"You don't pay here. You're the reason that this shop is even here, Harry, you can have anything you like," George said.

They left Harry to join Hermione and Ginny who were looking over the shop's WonderWitch products. Hermione was by a stand with a display of bright pink heart-shaped glass bottles. Harry read that they were Love Potions. It was then that Ron joined him looking overjoyed and Harry pulled some gold out of his pocket and pushed it into Ron's hand. If he didn't have to pay he was going to give what he would have paid to Ron.

"What's this mate? I can't take your…"

But Harry was glaring at him, already feeling the anxiety rushing up in him. Once the gold was in Ron's hand Harry signed:

"If you don't take it you'll hurt my feelings," Harry smirked.

Ron looked at him confusingly but gave up and said:

"Thanks mate, hey, you doing alright? You look a bit pale, maybe you should go outside."

Harry nodded and went over to join Hermione and Ginny who were looking at a cage of round balls of fluff that seemed to be moving all around and squeaking. Harry read the sign: Pygmy Puffs. As Ginny was picking one up and coddling over it Hermione suddenly let out:

"Oh no!"

Harry looked at her and signed:

"What's wrong?"

"I forgot that I wanted to get this new Arithmancy book! It just came out, I can't believe I didn't remember!" Hermione's face told Harry that she was quite disappointed.

"Let's just go back really quick, we'll tell Mrs. Weasley," Harry signed quickly and he started to look around and spotted Mrs. Weasley who was near the front of the shop by the entrance looking frantic.

Harry took Hermione's hand pulling her with him and they managed to get to Mrs. Weasley by pushing past people.

"Mrs. Weasley, I forgot to get a book I really need, do you think Harry and I could go back to Flourish and Blotts really quick?" Hermione asked.

"Oh well," she looked at her watch quickly and over to where Mr. Weasley was looking at some of the muggle magic trick products. "I suppose you could go but one of us needs to go with you."

Harry nodded and he and Hermione left the shop and Mrs. Weasley followed them over to where Tonks was outside a bit of ways from the twins' shop.

"Tonks, can you please take Harry and Hermione back to Flourish and Blotts, there's a book they forgot and then we need to get back to the Ministry car," Mrs. Weasley placed a hand on Tonk's shoulder. Tonks had been looking a little forlorn as she was standing there and her hair didn't seem as bright as it had been at Harry's birthday party.

"Sure, we'll be right quick about it Molly, let's go you two," Tonks said.

They headed back down the street to Flourish and Blotts.

"I'll stand guard out here," Tonks said when they reached the entrance.

Harry and Hermione entered the shop which was practically empty besides a couple of people and the owner who was reading at the counter looking bored. Hermione went over to the left of the shop where there were new published works in separate categories. Harry looked around the store and the sunlight was leaking in through the spots of the windows that weren't covered by posters.

"Here it is," Hermione said as she pulled the little golden book from the line of matching ones.

It was then that Harry heard the loud cracks throughout the street and then the screaming started. What happened after that took mere milliseconds. The windows that Harry was staring at blew out and glass sprayed everywhere. Flourish and Blotts felt like it was shaken by an earthquake and the loudest bang Harry had ever heard went off and everything around him just exploded.

* * *

**Sorry if this chapter was short but the next will be up soon and will be much longer. Thank you for reading and you reviews. : ) **


	12. Chapter 11: Circle of Trust

**Chapter 11: Circle of Trust **

When Harry opened his eyes all he could see was a dense fog of dust in the air and all he heard was a constant, drowning ringing in his ears. He was dizzy and his head kept rolling from side to side looking for something, anything. He realized he was on his back, the gold in his pack digging into him and something wet was trickling down his right ear. He coughed as his lungs were filling with the thick dust. As his head cleared slowly he pushed himself with his hands to sit up and he felt like everything was spinning. The ringing in his ears wouldn't go away. Everything started to come back to him in a rush of panic and he began to frantically look around for Hermione. His brain registered the sudden pain in his leg and he looked to find a gash in his thigh that was bleeding. He let out a harsh breath as he tried to get to his knees. He found Hermione where she had been by the book shelf and the shelf was on top of her and she laid there not moving, her eyes closed.

Harry hurried over to her and with great difficulty lifted the heavy bookshelf off of her and it crashed into the wall. His trembling hands felt the pulse in her neck and it was there, softly and she was breathing slowly. She had some cuts on her face but Harry didn't know if she had been hurt by the bookshelf. Harry looked around the store and quickly took out his wand and shrugged off his back pack. Glass littered the floor as well as pages, pieces of wood, dust, and there were books everywhere. Shelves had fallen over, and the people that had been in the shop Harry had no idea where they were. His panic was growing and outside people were screaming and running and there were shouts and blasts as if more windows were being smashed in.

Harry looked to Hermione but he was scared to touch her, scared to move her. And then he heard glass cracking and his head snapped up to see a large man in the doorway. His long dark hair was slicked back, his animalistic eyes were shadowed; he wore a long black open trench coat that exposed his chest that was covered with hair. His heavy black pants and boots rattled as he took a step forward and Harry heard a low growling noise emitting from the man. He grimaced and exposed his spiked teeth and it was then that Harry knew this huge man was Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf.

He briefly thought of what had happened to Tonks before Greyback was moving forward to him with slow, heavy steps, his eyes on Harry. Harry's mind was going blank again, he was panicking, he didn't know how to defend himself, he didn't know what to do; it was as if his mind stopped all thought process. The ringing in his ears was so loud still and his vision was blurred. Greyback was almost in front of him and with a shaking hand, stupidly, Harry raised his wand and no spell, not even _Alohamora_, came to him.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Greyback's voice growled out and Harry's wand went flying out of his hand and into the debris.

Harry's feet started to shuffle back and he fell over something hard. His eyes, wide with fear, stared into those of a monster, his pupils black and menacing. He was backing up but Greyback stopped advancing on Harry and his thick head turned and those vicious eyes fell upon Hermione. It was as if nothing else mattered to Greyback then but her as his nose crinkled and he was sniffing the dust filled air. Greyback was suddenly bending down, one black nailed hand reaching for the unconscious girl and it was as if something clicked inside Harry's stunned brain.

Harry felt his body launch forward and he slammed himself against the mass that was Greyback, pushing will all his might against the man that was so much bigger than himself; he smelt of blood and grime and musk. Harry felt a massive hand grab his shirt and he was flung away with such force he crashed into the wall by the front entrance. He fell to the floor harshly. When he looked up Greyback was sniffing Hermione, his hand about to come over her neck with his eyes looking venomous. Harry got to his feet with all the strength he could muster and ran forward, slipping on books and wood, and leapt at Greyback, grabbing him in any way he could trying to pull him away. He begged with fate to keep the monster away from Hermione. Greyback tossed Harry to the floor with ease and Harry's head banged against it. Someone cried out from the broken doorway:

"_Stupefy!_"

Greyback was hit with the spell square in the chest and he flew back and smashed into the back wall behind the counter. Harry's eyes found Tonks who was standing in the entrance way with her wand out. She hurried over to Harry with her wand still pointed in front of her. Greyback got back up from where he had fallen and Tonks cast a curse at him but the werewolf blocked it and with a loud crack Greyback had Dissaparated.

"Harry, Harry! Are you alright? You're bleeding," Tonks said in a rushed voice.

Harry saw that Tonks had a gash on her brow. He nodded slowly and then pointed to where Hermione lay. Tonks went over to Hermione and he heard people shouting outside but the screaming had stopped and there wasn't much noise. His ears were still ringing faintly as he lay there amongst the books and splinters of book shelves. His vision started to fade, blackening at the edges of his eyes. He looked to where the doorway was and the bright light from the sun was blinding. For a flicker of a moment he saw a man there, a man he knew and before he went into the darkness he thought one word, a quiet whisper that he barely heard in his head himself:

_Sirius…_

* * *

Things were swimming up in his mind; at first there were small colors, flashes of blue and green and red and the light hurt his whole body it seemed. Harry's eyes flickered opened to see white. He squinted. He was laying on something soft and his head hurt somewhat. When his eyes adjusted his vision was still blurred and he realized he didn't have his glasses on. It took a moment to remember what had happened in Diagon Alley and he sat up quickly.

"Easy, Harry," came a soft female voice.

Harry's eyes found where the voice came from and through the distortion he could see that Ms. Gardiner was at his side. Harry wondered what was going on and where he was.

"Harry, you're in a room in St. Mungo's, you hit your head pretty hard but you're alright," Ms. Gardiner said.

He felt her place his glasses on his face and everything became clear at once. Ms. Gardiner was sitting there in thin blue robes, her hair done up in a high pony tail, her rosy lips shimmered from the light in the room. She was smiling softly at him.

"Harry, can you hear me ok?"

Harry nodded slowly and his head was growing clearer by the second and he finally turned to her and signed:

"Is Hermione ok? What about everyone?"

"Hermione is perfectly fine, Harry and so is everyone else," she answered him. "You can relax."

Harry looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing a white hospital gown and was in a small, white bed with a light blue blanket over him. He felt his head and there was a piece of bandage there.

"You had a lot of bruises on your back and arms but they should be all healed up by now," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry signed:

"What happened?"

"Well, I don't think it's right for me to tell you, I'm sure someone will come soon," she said gently.

Harry nodded slowly. Harry was in a white room with two other empty beds. He wondered where Hermione was. He kept seeing the monstrous Greyback trying to get to her. The door was open into the hallway and it was then that Remus came in with Mrs. Weasley by his side.

"Oh, Harry, you're awake!" Mrs. Weasley cried and Ms. Gardiner stood up and let her come to his bedside and hug him.

"Harry," Remus said when she pulled away. "I was afraid that Greyback got you but we checked everywhere, no scratches or bites. Harry, I can't believe you tried to stop him with your bare hands."

Harry signed quickly:

"I had to do something; he was going to get Hermione."

"He says he was trying to protect Hermione," Ms. Gardiner translated.

"Well, Hermione is fine, she had some broken ribs but they healed her up quickly, she's awake and worried about you," Remus said quickly.

"Harry wants to know what happened," Ms. Gardiner said.

Remus sat on the edge of the Harry's bed. Harry could see that the man looked tired.

"Death Eaters, they ransacked some of the shops in Diagon Alley…" he said. "They took Florean Fortescue right out of his parlor and Dissaparated. They tried to take Oliivander, the wandmaker, but Moody was able to stop them. Tonks had been knocked out. It happened so fast, it was lucky that she came to when she did."

Harry remembered how he had just stood there with his wand out but not knowing how to fight the werewolf. He felt ashamed of himself.

"Greyback has trouble controlling himself as you probably guessed Harry, even if he had you right there for the taking," Remus said.

Harry was looking down at his hands.

"Forgive me, my name is Molly Weasley," Mrs. Weasley said as she held out her hand and Ms. Gardiner smiled and shook it.

"I'm Remus Lupin," Remus said and Ms. Gardiner shook his hand and said:

"I'm Sophia Gardiner, I'm Harry's therapist," Ms. Gardiner said.

"Of course," Remus said and smiled slightly and his hand came away. He turned to Harry. "I have to go Harry, sorry I can't stay longer, I'll see you," Remus said and stood up quickly and bowed slightly to Ms. Gardiner and Mrs. Weasley.

"I'll go tell Ron you're awake, Harry, he was so worried about you two," Mrs. Weasley said and patted his hand and left the room in a hurry.

"Harry, I'm sure you will be let go soon, I think they just want to do one last check up on you," Ms. Gardiner said. "I'm happy you're alright, when I heard what happened I was worried, I came straight here to see you."

"Thank you," Harry signed.

"Are you ok, Harry?" she asked gently.

Harry shook his head slowly and then looked at her with his blue eyes shining from the florescent lights. His hands were shaking and he signed:

"I couldn't defend myself; I couldn't…if Tonks hadn't come then…" Harry let his hands fall and he let out a breath.

"Harry, you did all that you could do and Hermione is fine," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry gripped the blanket in his hands and clenched his teeth and shook his head again.

"That's not it; I was disarmed easily…I…couldn't even think straight…" Harry signed quickly. "I feel…so stupid…"

"Harry, it's no good to beat yourself up about this," she said kindly. "You're not weak, Harry, please believe that."

Harry sat there though feeling as weak as a newborn child. If he could have just concentrated he could have taken on Greyback with his wand.

"Wand," Harry signed suddenly. "And my bag."

"Your wand is right here," Ms. Gardiner took it from the bedside table and handed it to Harry. "Tonks found it for you. I don't know about your bag though, I would guess she might have picked that up too."

Another thought popped into his head. Why did the Death Eaters take Florean Fortescue? Why did they try to abduct Ollivander? He wished he could speak to Dumbledore and see if the man knew however Remus didn't seem to know. Harry guessed the man had left to speak to Dumbledore himself.

"Potter," a voice came from the doorway.

Harry looked up to see Snape walking quickly toward his bed. Why was Snape here? The man wore his usual attire that he wore at school instead of muggle clothes; Harry noticed his hair looked a bit tossed like he had been running.

Snape stopped abruptly before Ms. Gardiner who was standing and staring at the man.

"I wish to speak to Potter alone," Snape said as he practically glared at the woman.

"Speak to him about what, Professor?" Ms. Gardiner asked.

Harry wondered if this was some sort of standoff between the two because each seemed to be holding themselves in a strong manner and their eyes were narrowed and Ms. Gardiner had a smile on her face though it was almost sinister.

"What I speak to Mr. Potter about is _none_ of your business," Snape replied sharply.

"Fine, Professor," she said and she turned to Harry. "I'll see you soon Harry, be careful."

Harry nodded and waved at her as she left, her high heels clicking against the linoleum floor.

Harry looked to Snape who sat down in the chair that Ms. Gardiner had previously occupied. He signed:

"You don't like her very much, do you?"

"That is of no matter to you Potter," Snape snapped. "Just _what_ were you thinking taking on a werewolf, let alone Greyback? Have you no sense you idiot boy?"

Harry glared at Snape and he put his heart into the expression. So Snape was going to act like this to him?

"I wasn't alone, I was trying to save Hermione," Harry signed forcibly. "I would never let that beast touch her."

Snape looked angry which frightened Harry but he held his glare. What did he not understand about the situation? No one was there to help Hermione but him at the time, what else could he have done?

"I told Dumbledore it wasn't safe for you to go to a public place like that," Snape said almost under his breath.

"They weren't after me, I just happened to be there," Harry signed quickly.

"It would have become a perfect opportunity for them to deliver you to the Dark Lord had someone else found you," Snape's velvety voice chilled Harry's skin.

Harry was growing agitated because Snape was telling him things he already figured out for himself. But Snape leaned forward and a hand came to the side of his head where his bandage was and then he quickly brought it away; returning to rest on Snape's knee. That one movement made Harry's heart speed up, maybe he had thought the man was going to strike him but that was a silly thought. Snape was staring at him with those dark eyes and Harry felt uncomfortable.

"You are lucky, Mr. Potter," Snape said and his voice was softer.

Harry laid back into the bed's pillows, he felt a bit shaky and tired and hungry. He suddenly wished he could go to The Fish Bowl with Snape. That was an odd thought but the food was very good and the atmosphere was peaceful. There was silence between them. Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't think Snape liked casual conversation and yet the man was still here. Somehow it reminded him of that time in the Hospital Wing when he drank the potion that Snape had made for him.

"Mr. Potter, are you feeling ok?" Snape's voice drifted into this mind.

Harry nodded. He really was hungry and he felt dizzy because of it.

"I'm…tired I guess…" Harry signed. "Greyback is really strong…" Harry had to finger spell "Greyback".

"I will leave you to rest then…" Snape stood up. "The Headmaster wishes me to relay a message to you. He says that from now on to always have that cloak of yours with you wherever you go."

Harry nodded once more.

"I will see you Wednesday Mr. Potter…please take care," Snape said and then he was walking toward the door, leaving Harry with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

When he was _finally _released from St. Mungo's he got dressed in the clothes that he had worn to Diagon Alley, they had been washed and mended for him. Harry left the hospital room and as soon as he stepped out into the white walled hallway Hermione crashed into him with a hug and Harry had been startled by it. She came away, her eyes brimming with tears and cried:

"Oh _Harry!_ If I hadn't wanted that stupid _book!_" her cheeks were reddening and Harry held her arms. He could see behind her that Mrs. Weasley was walking down the hall and Ron was ahead of her, hurrying to get to him.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione continued. "If Greyback bit you I don't know what…!" and she was lost in her hysterics and Harry looked to Ron for help seeing as he couldn't speak to her.

"Hermione, calm down," Ron placed a hand on her shoulder. "Harry's alright, I'm pretty sure you were hurt more than he was."

"But he…he…Greyback could have…!"

"But Harry fought him off like a champion," Ron said and Harry started to laugh as did Ron which made Hermione smile through her tears.

"I'm just happy you're ok," Hermione said and she wiped her eyes.

Harry smiled and signed to her:

"Me? You should be happy that _you're_ ok."

* * *

They had took the Floo Network back (much to Harry's dislike) and were back at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley made dinner which Harry had second helpings of. No one said much about what had happened. Fleur had been a right mess when they had gotten back as Bill had been with them during the attack. Fred and George's shop hadn't been touched in the attack which they were happy for seeing as how there had been so many people in the shop that could have gotten hurt. They heard nothing from the Order which made Harry nervous but Mrs. Weasley said it was best to not think about it.

Harry's nerves hadn't gotten better though, in fact he was now worrying that something else might happen in the near future. He should have felt the attack on Diagon Alley was bound to happen, that something would have happened soon but he had other things to think about. It was hard having to try not to stress over the Death Eater attack, it kept making his mind find its way back to what had happened that night in the Department of Mysteries. Harry was afraid that something was drawing closer and the fact that Voldemort was out there with his diminished followers building up his numbers; it was so unsettling and that night he had such a dreadful nightmare:

He was running down a dark hallway and someone was screaming for him to help him. There were hundreds of doors and he kept opening them to find nothing; he wanted to find the source of the screaming, he wanted desperately to help the person. He was running so hard pushing doors open into the dim lit rooms with fires burning where he could not see them. His heart was pounding and the person was screaming so loud as if they were in such pain and Harry was panicking so much; how much time did he have? How much time did he have before that person perished? Finally he opened a door and there in the center of a dark room cascaded by moonlight was a fallen body, bleeding from her throat, brown hair damp with blood, vacant dead eyes staring at nothing for the life had gone in them and Hermione was dead and the beast that stood before her body turned to face him. A wolf-like face covered in blood, sharp teeth gleaming, such inhuman eyes sprung fear into his body and he ran from that place and for some reason there was blood all over the floor and he kept slipping in it and it covered his hands and clothes and he felt such pressure inside his chest and he couldn't cry out for anyone, his voice didn't work. Then the dream changed and he was surrounded by the color red and he turned around to see Remus Lupin standing there before him looking at him with such a hatred he thought could never be seen on the man's face.

"You should have saved him," Remus's voice echoed all around the space he was in; it sounded cryptic. "He didn't deserve it but you had to go, you had to go and he had to follow and now…Sirius is dead because of you."

Harry started to shake his head; he was trying to deny the man's words, begging with him to take them back. Why was Lupin saying such things?

"Do not lie," his eyes were burying themselves into Harry's head. "You destroy everything. From the moment you were born, so many have died in your place and he was one of them, he was innocent…"

And Harry was falling, falling down a dark hole trying to scream, trying to forget it all, trying without hope to salvage what little left he had of himself.

Harry sat up in bed breathing hard; his body was covered in a chilled sweat and his face felt like it was on fire. He felt sick; he felt such a deep ache in his chest. He wrapped his arms around himself as he remembered the dream. What did it mean? Did Remus really blame him? Did Remus hate him because of what happened to Sirius? Harry pleaded for it not to be true; it couldn't be; he couldn't have something else to be guilty for.

* * *

When Monday came the sky was murky and Harry didn't want to get out of bed. He felt awful again, like he had when term ended. He felt miserable and depressed and tired. He didn't want to take the potion he had for his depression but Hermione made him. She then forced his text books in his arms and told him he needed to start reading them to get ahead in his N.E.W.T classes. Harry had glared at her but she didn't falter. She made Ron open at least one of his books as well. It was a slow two days. Mr. Weasley had been at work the whole time and Bill and Fleur kept going for long walks. Mrs. Weasley was bothered because the blond haired girl kept trying to do all of her cleaning for her and kept insisting that she make meals.

Harry heard nothing about what had taken place in Diagon Alley and he finally decided it wasn't worth the stress and let it go. He was tired of it; he was tired of never getting answers when he wanted them so he opened _Advanced Potion-Making_ and got out a notebook and started to outline the first chapter. It was tedious and Ron was being forced to study as well. Hermione was already buried in all of her school books and they were in Ron's room. She kept putting one down and grabbing another then putting it down and picking up a different one. Harry envied her determination and brilliance. He wished he had it, he wished he could show up to the first day of his classes actually knowing how to answer questions. Because he wanted to be an Auror and it was a strict road from this point on.

He did his best to concentrate because he knew Potions would most likely be his worst subject. He knew he was not one to buckle down and study much, he knew he never tried as much as he should but this year would be different. He most definitely wouldn't do as well as Hermione but he would do at least above average. Harry was determined not to be discouraged. He wanted to be able to handle things, to get a hold of his life for once instead of having it always spiral away from him. Harry wondered if he was capable of that however. What would happen to him if could never use his voice again?

Harry had opened his trunk to get an ink bottle out when he found the cookies that Ms. Gardiner's sister had made. He opened them, pulling the little ribbon away and tried one. It was delicious; it was as if he had eaten a piece of his favorite treacle tart. He shared them with Ron and Hermione (not minding that he had taken away her concentration because the cookies had been very good) and they ate them till Harry decided to save a few. After a few hours and lunch he and Ron played Quidditch to Hermione's annoyance. Harry wondered who was going to be captain of the Gryffindor team and was happy he had not been made it. He couldn't speak so he wouldn't be able to communicate with his team much less be their leader. The duty of a Seeker was quite simple: catch the snitch and don't get thrown off your broom.

When it was Wednesday morning Harry awoke feeling very nervous and timid. He knew he didn't really do well with speaking in front of crowds; sure he had lead Dumbledore's Army but he knew what he was doing most of the time then. This was completely different. He would be in front of muggles who were mostly all deaf and he would have to use nothing but sign language to talk to them. What was he going to say? What would he have to say? He didn't know how a group therapy session went. Harry took a shower and it was a moment before he decided he should dress to be presentable. Ignoring Ron's jousts he put on a dark blue dress shirt which he tucked into his dark jeans. He combed his hair the best way he could and brushed his teeth. He put on black trainers and a black cardigan with a tan colored line across the chest. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time and decided it would work.

When breakfast was served and he sat with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Bill, and Fleur he didn't really feel like eating. His stomach was twisting into knots and he kept thinking about how he would look in front who knows how many other people.

"Harry dear, you need to eat," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Harry's got a group therapy session today, he's nervous Mum," Ron said.

"Well you need your energy," she said. "There's no reason to be nervous Harry, you'll do fine."

Harry nodded and poked around at his eggs.

"You'll be fine, Harry," Hermione encouraged him. "I'm sure everyone is just going to talk about their feelings; which is what you've been doing with Ms. Gardiner this whole time."

But Harry wasn't convinced. He just felt like a child who was scared to speak in front of adults. He ate the rest of his jam on toast and some more of his scrambled eggs but couldn't bear anymore. His nerves just kept getting worse as he rushed upstairs to study his BSL books even more. The books looked very much broken into and Harry had highlighted important parts in them that he needed help remembering. He had two notebooks filled with notes and outlines. He rubbed at his hands which seemed to not want to do what he told them to do. He was going to make a fool of himself, in front of people who probably knew how to sign perfectly because they'd been doing it for their whole lives.

It was 10:45AM when he hurried back downstairs with his backpack (where his notepad and new pen were in a long with his Invisibly Cloak). He was trying not to forget what he just reviewed. Harry kept telling himself to relax and be confident but when Mrs. Weasley opened the door it wasn't just Snape who was standing there; Remus Lupin was standing next to him. Harry's heart shuddered. Why was Remus with Snape? His legs suddenly felt like lead.

Snape was dressed in a dark brown dress shirt this time with black slacks and a black overcoat. Remus wore a dark green dress shirt with black slacks and dark brown dress shoes.

"Harry, oh there you are," Mrs. Weasley had turned to him, smiling brightly.

"Harry, good to see you," Remus said.

Harry noticed that Snape had been about to say something but Remus had spoken first. Now Snape was looking as menacing as ever. Harry wished that he could go back to yesterday as he walked toward the door.

"You have a good day, Harry and don't worry," Mrs. Weasley said.

Harry nodded but could not manage to smile and he turned to walk out the door in-between Remus and Snape but he did not look at either of them.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to accompany you to this group session," Remus said as they walked to the beginning of the wheat field past the wards.

Harry nodded as the three stood. He wasn't looking forward to what would be happening soon. Snape's arm came into his vision and then Remus's. Harry guessed they were all to Apparate together. Harry took Snape's arm and held tightly and waited for a moment. He could still hear Remus's words inside his head, the ones from the dream and he closed his eyes tightly before taking Remus's arm.

* * *

They had Apparated into St. Mungo's and then left the hospital to walk the rest of the way to Ms. Gardiner's muggle office. Harry followed Snape who was taking long strides and Remus was behind Harry. The office was only a few blocks away from the old department store. It was a big gray building with large windows in the middle of many other business type structures. All that was on the front of the building was its address in silver block style scripture. The doors opened automatically and they stepped inside a brightly lit lobby. To Harry's right was a receptionist desk made of granite. The floor was made of white marble and Harry could see his reflection in it. There were potted plants by the waiting area that had a few dark brown couches and coffee tables.

Snape lead them to the elevators. Placed on the wall was a long list of black plaques one underneath the other labeling in white the doctors that worked in the building and what floor and room their office was in. Harry's eyes fell on the only one he recognized:

_Doctor Sophia H. Gardiner -Floor 6 Rm. 313_

Harry hit the button with the arrow pointing up and the shiny silver doors opened with a dinging sound. Snape entered the elevator a bit slower than Harry would have anticipated as did Remus. Harry followed quickly and found the lift's white buttons and pressed "6" and it lit up and the doors closed leisurely. Harry looked up at Snape and then away for he found it a bit funny to be in such a different setting with Snape, just like it had been at The Fish Bowl. The feel of the lift going up made Harry's stomach shiver and Remus held onto the metal bar that was attached to the wall.

Maybe it was the feel of the elevator that made it different from riding the lifts in the Ministry of Magic Harry guessed. The doors opened when they arrived on the 6th floor they were met with quite normal looking hallways with gray carpeting and white walls with pictures hung up here and there and a few doors. There were three directions to choose from and as Harry was wondering where Room 313 was when someone called out to them to his left:

"Harry!"

Harry smiled as Ms. Gardiner was walking to him. It was different to see her not wearing robes. She had on a very pretty white blouse and a gray pencil skirt and black high heels. Her hair was done up with a black clip. She was carrying a notepad and a black clipboard.

"Good morning," Remus said to her.

"A good morning to you Mr. Lupin, and Professor Snape," she gave Snape a glance who looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here and then looked down to Harry.

"I'm sorry but we need to go down to the second floor where the auditorium is," Ms. Gardiner said and she pushed the down arrow button quickly and they waited.

"So this is where you work?" Harry signed quickly trying to relieve how stiff his hands suddenly felt.

"Yes, my office is just down that hall," she pointed to where she had come from.

The lift's doors opened and they all went inside. Harry could hardly stand it. The scene was so weird. All of them in a muggle lift in a muggle work building; he found it quite funny and thought if only there was music then he really wouldn't be able to take it. He felt a bit better when the doors opened and this floor didn't look anything like the 6th floor except for the walls. The floor was made of shiny white tiling and there were no pictures up. There was one very wide long stretch of hallway before them.

"It's just up here, auditorium two, they hold a lot of orientations here," Ms. Gardiner said as they made their way to end of the hallway.

To their right the large metal double doors were already open and Ms. Gardiner led them in. She stepped aside in front of Harry suddenly and Harry barely registered that someone was running up to him before they crashed into him and he was being hugged tightly and the sweet smell of vanilla came to his nose. The hug was warm and it somehow stripped away all the anxiety he was feeling. Then the person came away and Harry's eyes met those that were light green. Long, curled brown hair framed the girl's face. Rosy glossed lips were formed in a bright smile. It was like looking at a much shorter, slightly younger version of Ms. Gardiner.

"Harry," Ms. Gardiner laughed softly. "This is my little sister, Emily, I told her not to get too excited."

Harry smiled softly at her. Emily wore a light blue summer dress decorated with white flowers. Her height was level with Harry's and it was strange to have her sign to him but no words left her lips and he wondered if that was the way he looked as well:

"I'm so happy to meet you! My name is Emily, I'm so excited that you're here," she signed and her eyes were bright. "I've always admired you."

Harry didn't really know what to say but he signed:

"It's nice to meet you too Emily. Your sister talks about you a lot."

"Emily often comes here when I lead group sessions," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry took a look around: The room was rather large and there was a small stage to his right at the end of the room and wide windows let the sun leak in through the blinds. The floor was wooden and shiny. In the center of the room was a circle of metal chairs. To Harry's left there was a long table covered in a red table cloth with platters of cookies, crisps, small sandwiches, cheese, and fruit as well as different bottles of drinks and a small coffee maker. Next to it was a stack of paper plates, a bag of plastic silverware, plastic cups, and napkins.

"Everyone should be here in a few minutes, you can help yourselves to some refreshments; this is how it normally goes, everyone gets something to eat and they mingle a bit and then we start the session, alright Harry?" Ms. Gardiner said as Emily stood by her side smiling at Harry.

Harry nodded.

"Oh, put this on please," she took a sheet of paper out and pulled off a nametag sticker and handed it to Harry. It was blue and white and it just said: "Hello, my name is: HARRY." And "Harry" was written in black marker. Harry took the sticker and stuck it right above his heart and smoothed it out and he turned to Snape and Remus and Remus was smiling at him holding his hands together in front of him.

It was an awkward wait as he poured himself some juice and had a cookie while Emily talked to him as they stood by the refreshment table. She was very funny and made Harry laugh. Like her sister, she seemed very intelligent and all too kind to him. Ms. Gardiner was sitting in the circle with a cup of tea and she was looking over some papers.

Snape and Remus sat in chairs by the entrance. Harry brought them over some cups of tea and Emily followed him as if she were a magnet to his side. Harry didn't mind because she made him feel welcome and put his nerves at ease. It was really a good thing because he thought he would be a mess for this session. Snape and Remus drank their tea and Harry really didn't know what to tell the two men, it was awkward enough that they were in such a place being who they were.

Then people started to enter the room; six in total. Harry concentrated on every one of them. The first was a tall man with blue eyes and thin brown hair; he had light skin and wore a blue dress shirt with brown slacks. Harry guessed he was in his early 20s. The second was a short skinny pale skinned woman with short blond hair, blue eyes, and she wore a red dress with black heels. She looked young. The third was an average height dark skinned woman with dark hair in a ponytail who wore a gray blouse and a pencil white skirt and black flats. Her eyes looked older than she did. The fourth was a man with light brown hair and very light blue eyes. He wore a dark gray collared shirt with tan slacks. Harry guessed this man might have been in his 30s. The fifth was a light skinned woman with dark brown eyes, curly brown hair, wearing a green dress and leggings. Harry thought she might have been a few years older than he was. And the last, the 6th person was a somewhat tall woman with black hair, hazel eyes wearing a black blouse with dark jeans. She looked to be in her 20s. There was something common with these strangers; none of them looked very happy.

The mingling began. Well, no one seemed too enthusiastic as they helped themselves to the refreshments. Harry watched them all from where he stood by Remus and Snape. A few of the strangers glanced at the two men with confused expressions. Harry slowly walked over to the group just as Ms. Gardiner stood up and walked over to them with the nametag stickers. She greeted them with BSL and most seemed content to see her but others looked nervous. She passed out the nametags and Harry immediately tried to tell who was who.

Emily seemed the happiest one out of everyone. She signed to people with ease as if greeting long lost friends; this seemed to lighten the mood and gradually people started to open up, especially when Ms. Gardiner started to communicate with them. Harry felt awkward just standing there with his hands in his pockets. Emily found her way over to him again and signed:

"You have to participate. Get to know people."

Harry felt his cheeks burn as he signed:

"I don't really know how to talk to people."

"Just introduce yourself; it's easy because you're all here for the same reason." She was smiling at him and she took his hand and led him over to the group of people.

"Hello Harry," Ms. Gardiner said. "Why don't you try to speak to a few people, I need to get some paper work, when I get back we'll start." She placed a hand on his back and then left his side. Harry watched as she said something to Remus and Snape in a whisper and Snape looked displeased but Remus smiled and nodded. Then she left the room.

Harry faced back to the group and the 6th woman had come up to him and she signed quite fast:  
"Hi, my name is Delilah, I've never been to one of these before, have you?"

Harry shook his head and signed:

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Harry." His heartbeat was quickening. This was a strange experience, it was so different, so new to him and it was making him feel out of place.

Delilah smiled at him and signed:

"You look very young, how old are you? I'm twenty one."

"I've just turned sixteen," Harry signed.

She nodded and then the tall man came over to them both and Harry had to move a bit because he knew you needed to face people properly so they understood when you signed to them.

"How are you two today?" the man said and Harry read that his name was David.

"I'm doing ok," signed Delilah. "How are you?"

"I'm ok. I've been to these a few times," David signed. "I'm David; it's nice to meet you."

Harry nodded as did Delilah who signed:

"This is my first time, I'm a bit nervous," she signed and they shook hands. David turned to Harry and shook his hand. It was a strong handshake that moved Harry's whole arm. Harry was pleased with himself because he understood what they were saying to each other and to him. It was interesting to understand a different language. And it was also strange because everyone was conversing with each other but there was hardly any sound, some people did speak softly but not as clear.

Ms. Gardiner hurried in and they all turned to her and she signed and said to them all:

"Let's all take a seat in the circle please so we can start."

They all headed toward the chairs and Harry glanced over to see Remus leaving the room taking his and Snape's chair out into the hallway and Snape followed. He sort of wished they would have stayed in the room. Harry made sure to sit next to Ms. Gardiner and Emily sat next to him. The chairs were spaced a couple feet apart. He had put his back pack on his chair and sat up straight.

"Ok, I'm happy you all made it today, I would like to introduce myself, my name is Doctor Gardiner," Ms. Gardiner signed expertly. "Good morning. I know some of you have been to one of my group sessions before but for those of you who are new today we are going to share with each other our own experience one by one. When someone is sharing please know that it is there turn and do not interrupt. There is no time limit, you can say whatever you are feeling, what happened, how you are coping and what you think needs to be done to help yourselves. Please try not to hesitate, we are all friends here, this is a circle of trust and there are no judgments, don't be afraid to open up because we are here to support each other. The purpose of group therapy is to confined in others in hopes that it will help you deal with the grief that you all are feeling. Does everyone understand? It's very simple, this isn't a test, this is a discussion, a talk, no one needs to feel pressured."

Everyone nodded.

"Before we start, I would like everyone to say hello to Harry," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry flinched a bit as everyone waved to him and his cheeks burned. He waved back nervously.

"Harry here is a rare case. He is not deaf but mute. He is suffering from an uncommon condition known as a Conversion Disorder. Normally what that means is when one experiences a certain trauma the body reacts in a way that halts a part of the nervous system. For example in most cases loss of vision is experienced by the trauma victim but in Harry's case he cannot speak. He is a guest here today who has been learning sign language for a few weeks now. He's a fast learner so he can communicate very efficiently with everyone here," Ms. Gardiner signed with speed that she had never used with Harry before.

Everyone nodded and many of them glanced at Harry. But he didn't feel nervous. He wondered if it was because of Emily's perfume; it relaxed him somehow. However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next; not the smell of perfume or kind encouragements from Hermione or Mrs. Weasley or Ms. Gardiner; what had happened next he had never experienced in his life.

They had started with the tall man whose name was David and when he began to sign his hands were shaking like Harry's often did.

"My name is David…" David's eyes fell on Harry's who was staring at him; they were all staring to understand his words. He sat up straighter in his chair. "Three months ago…my daughter was killed in a traffic accident. She was hit by a car that ran a red light…she died in the back of the ambulance…Her name was Rosy…she was seven…I held her hand and we waited for the light to change…I don't know what she saw to make her run into the street…but her hand came out of mine…and…I saw the car…" David's eyes were reddening and even though Harry could not hear his words his eyes looked so pained and his face looked so broken. "I couldn't reach her in time…to grab her and pull her back…" His hands were trembling as he signed and Harry had never seen such a strong man cry before. No one moved but Harry felt a warm hand close around his and he looked to see Emily whose eyes were watery but no tears fell. Harry wondered how many stories she had listened to, how many times she had cried for them and how could she keep coming back here to sit in this circle. David continued to sign: "I wish I could have been holding on tighter to her hand, it was so small…Her mother and I…we split up years ago and I only had her for weeks at a time…but she was…the light in my life…" With shaking hands he wiped away his tears and he was nodding as if to confirm what he said to himself, his jaw was shaking. "I miss her smile…and there was a room for her in my flat…I can't move her things…I can't. I always wished I could hear her laugh…She would always tell me what her favorite characters on TV were saying…Every day it gets easier to not see her…but I don't know what to do…" And he didn't say anymore. It had taken him a lot of time just to sign what he wanted to share and Harry could feel every pause, every moment the man struggled to say what he needed to say.

"Thank you David," Ms. Gardiner's soft voice said as she signed to him.

Then it was Delilah next:

"Hi, my name is Delilah…" she was nervous and she kept shifting in her chair. Her eyes were red already. "Well, my mother…she passed away four months ago, she died from cancer…" There was a pause because tears were already in her eyes. "She was the only one who ever listened to me…or cared about what I wanted to do in my life…she was always there for me even though she was in pain…and they couldn't do anymore for her…I didn't want to believe it when they told me she would die…because she was my mother…and she…" Delilah shut her eyes tightly as her tears fell and Harry could hear that others were crying as well in the circle. Emily's soft hand still held his and he realized he was holding it as well; their fingers were intertwined together gently. He didn't remember when he had done it. "I guess I thought…she would always be there…and she would never leave…She'd given me everything and she never asked for anything…but I wanted to make her proud anyway…Before she died, I was there by her bedside, she told me…she said she'd never forget the day I was born…that that was the day that she started living too…She said I had to let go…." Her hands were shaking. "I can't let go….and she's gone, I don't want to give up, I want to keep going with my life and live to do the things she said I could do, but I don't want to let go…" Her hands came to her face and she was trying to wipe her tears away. Somehow someone had a box of tissues and it was passed around. Harry's eyes held tears in his own but he couldn't look at anyone. He stared at the floor; he held the end of his left sleeve in his left hand, holding tightly.

And it continued like this for more than an hour, there were so many stories and they all broke into his heart even though he didn't want to let them in. He forced himself to watch every single one of them tell their stories and Harry realized that they were all here because they had one thing in common: they had all lost someone they loved. They were all grieving together, held together in this circle by sorrow and the holes in their hearts that someone had left there, had left their lives and gone onto a world that Harry didn't know of. He kept remembering the Veil and Sirius had just fallen through and he was gone and no matter why it had happened or who was to blame if anyone, it didn't matter because he was gone, and Harry felt cold and alone with the ache deep in his chest that he couldn't heal. He figured everyone felt like this, felt like him, desperate, lonely, and confused, lost and wondering why? Why did Sirius have to go? Why did he have to go when Harry needed him?

And it was his turn and his shoulders shook slightly and his hand came away from Emily's. He began to sign not knowing who or what was controlling his hands and it was slow and painful as his eyes traveled to each of their faces; they were just people, people who didn't know of magic or his world, people who could do nothing to save the ones they loved, and it wasn't fair and Harry was lost in two different places where people still had to die at some point.

"My name is Harry…I lost my parents…in a car crash when I was just a baby…" Harry hated to lie but part of it held the truth he needed. "A few years ago I came in contact with my godfather…and he was like the dad I never had sometimes…he taught me a lot of things…and I loved him very much. I never thought that I would lose him so soon…I thought we had time, I thought we had so much time to get to know each other…" Harry didn't care that his tears fell in front of these strangers because they were connected, they were in this circle of trust and he would tell his story just as they had done even though it must have taken them everything they had. "He always liked to remember the things he did with my father when they were young…sometimes I think…he never really grew up from that…but he was a brave man and he was kind to me, he told me that everyone has good and bad in them…but what matters is what side we act on…the choices we make…That's what makes us who we are. He didn't always do the right thing, but for the time that I knew him…he really influenced me. He died in June…trying to save me. I just wish he was still here, I wish I had more time…" Harry was done. He couldn't do this anymore. It hurt badly. The pain felt like it was carved into him, forever there and he was still drowning. He didn't say anything about wanting his voice back; that would be very insensitive he thought.

Ms. Gardiner was speaking but Harry only caught some phrases. She thanked them all for being here and for having the courage to speak out like this to the group and she talked about the steps in the grieving process as well as speaking to everyone who had questions and who needed advice which was not easy to ask for. Mr. Gardiner hadn't cried at all. Her face was still set in that expression of calmness and understanding, the one that gave Harry the feeling that he was being understood perfectly. When they were done with their discussions Ms. Gardiner had them stand up and hold hands together and close their eyes for ten seconds for a moment of complete silence and respect for the ones who had been lost. Harry held Ms. Gardiner's hand and Emily's and when he closed his eyes all he could see was Sirius's face and he was smiling at him and he wondered why he could see him so clearly.

When the moment was over Ms. Gardiner had them pair up in twos. Emily made sure Harry was her partner and they did an exercise called "The Trust Fall". Ms. Gardiner paired herself with the tall man and Delilah and she showed them what they were supposed to do. Your partner had to stand behind you while you stood in front of them with your back to them. You needed to close your eyes and cross your arms over your chest and deliberately let yourself fall and your partner would be the one to catch you either under your arms or by holding you up with his or her hands placed on your back.

Emily went first and she did it with easy and even smiled as Harry caught her under her arms. She was quite light. When it was Harry's turn he had to wait a moment wondering if Emily would be able to catch him but he closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest just as the other pairs were finishing the exercise and he let himself fall. It was a rush and it was weird to just let his body fall back like that and he had held his breath but Emily caught him and he stood and smiled at her softly. The session was over and everyone ended it by giving out hugs and words of reassurance and comfort. Ms. Gardiner announced when the next group session would be and handed out pamphlets. Then everyone left besides Ms. Gardiner and Emily who hugged Harry tightly again. Harry hugged her back and when they came away she signed:

"I'm so happy I got to meet you, I hope we get to see each other again, you don't know how jealous of my sister I am but she shows me her magic all the time." Emily's expressions were so full of life and Harry admired just how optimistic she was. "I really do think you're wonderful Harry."

"Thank you, you're wonderful too," Harry blushed as he signed this and she kissed both of his cheeks and hurried out the room, practically skipping.

"She's very forward, I'm sorry," Ms. Gardiner said.

"It's ok, she looks so much like you," Harry signed. "She got rid of my nerves…"

"She does tend to put people at ease," Ms. Gardiner said. "She's supposed to be at her university but she skips classes to come here, she wants to be a therapist like me but for deaf children."

Harry nodded.

"Well Harry, I hope this wasn't too hard for you today," Ms. Gardiner said.

"It was hard…but…I felt like I belonged…" Harry signed.

She nodded and smiled at him.

"I have to go Harry, I hope you have a really good day and I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, you too," Harry signed and she left the room and he heard her say something to Professor Snape but he didn't catch it. Harry waited a moment as he stared at the empty circle of chairs and he didn't know why he was walking toward them or why he sat back down. He didn't know what he was feeling when the tears came to his eyes; he just couldn't leave yet.

It was a moment before he heard footsteps coming over to him. Harry didn't turn to see who was there but Remus sat down next to him and Harry looked at the man and he couldn't read his expression. But the tears kept coming and he knew his face must have looked so pathetic but with a quick movement Remus was hugging him tight, the man's arms were strong and Harry held onto his shirt with his hands and cried like he had when he discovered the mirror. He couldn't stop himself, he couldn't be strong, he couldn't try to be and he didn't want to be anything anymore. He wanted to go back in time, to fix everything, all of his mistakes. He held onto Remus as if he was a lifeline keeping him from sinking.

"It's alright, Harry," Remus said in a kinder voice that he had never heard before. "I don't blame you; don't ever think that, Harry, please."

Harry had flinched and he came away from the hug slowly, his eyes searching in the man's own.

"I can see it, it was all over your face this morning," Remus said. "I'm good at reading people, like your mother was. Harry, please don't blame yourself. You loved him Harry and Sirius loved you very much. He would have gone to save you under any circumstances. He didn't think he deserved to try to raise you because of what happened with Pettigrew…but he wanted to. He was afraid however because you weren't like him, you're so very selfless Harry and Sirius at times in his life could be very reckless and self-centered. He was very good at heart…I'm sorry Harry, I'm so sorry for what happened."

Harry found himself nodding slightly and he took his glasses off and wiped at his face. Remus held him with one hand on his shoulder.

"You're going to be ok, however this ends Harry…you're going to be ok," he said.

Harry found himself wishing it would be true as they left the room and Harry saw Snape at the doorway; he was looking at Harry with those deep pools and Harry felt foolish for he knew Snape had probably been watching.

"Well, I think I'll be off," Remus said.

Harry almost wanted to ask the man if he wanted to come to lunch with them but something inside him made him feel it was wrong. The Fish Bowl was a place for Snape and him and he wondered why his mind thought that way, thought that it would be _wrong_ for someone to join them. It was an odd feeling and Harry couldn't make sense of it.

Remus turned to Harry and said:

"You take care, Harry, please."

Harry nodded and Remus looked around and with a loud crack he was gone.

"Mr. Potter, there is a restroom at the beginning of the hall, I suggest you…clean up before we go to lunch," Snape said as he pointed toward the lifts.

Harry felt his face burn more than it already was and he hurried to the men's restroom and his face looked horrible. His eyes were red and somewhat swollen and his nose was red as were his cheeks. He splashed his face with water and wet a paper towel and held it on his face for a few moments until he felt better and dried off and fixed his bangs. He made sure he had his back pack and left the restroom.

* * *

It was nice to be outside in the sun even though the streets were busy as they walked back to where the old department store was. Harry's head was full of thoughts, he wondered if Snape knew anything about what had happened in Diagon Alley but he knew he couldn't ask. He was full of so many feelings. He felt quite exhausted and gloomy as he kept staring at the ground. When they were at the crosswalk in a group of people waiting for the light to turn green Harry felt Snape's hand grab his arm rather tightly. Harry looked up at the man but Snape was staring straight ahead as cars and buses passed by and were honking. The hand let go as soon as the light turned green and everyone stepped off the curb. Even though he felt so down at the moment Harry didn't know why he grew somewhat happy when he saw the doors of The Fish Bowl.

* * *

**Sorry this took a while but I hope you liked it. Thank you to everyone who is reading and please review if you have the time, I like to know what everyone thinks. Next chapter will be Snape's POV all the way and will be up soon. Thank you again. **


	13. Chapter 12: What is Left

**Chapter 12: What is Left**

_ "Ollivander has been put in a safe house for the time being," Dumbledore said to him. He was sitting up in his chair before his desk. _

_ "The Dark Lord told none of us of what was to happen, it was a sudden decision, whether or not he had been planning it before that point I do not know," Severus said firmly. _

_ "Florean Fortescue…" Dumbledore said softly. "I cannot think of why he would have been captured…I wonder if he angered them somehow…"_

_ "I doubt it…" Severus said with narrowed eyes. "I was called yesterday night; Greyback was punished _most_ ruthlessly by the Dark Lord himself…for his _incompetence_. The Dark Lord wants Potter, Headmaster…for what reason _other_ than to kill him I do not know."_

_ "The sooner Harry is behind Hogwarts' doors the better…the school has been placed under the upmost security…I can only pray that Harry will speak again…"_

_ "If it hasn't happened yet Headmaster…" Severus began to say._

_ "And that is why beginning the first day of term you will teach Harry how to use nonverbal spells," Dumbledore interrupted. "What happened with Greyback was as close at it possibly comes besides the Dark Lord himself finding the boy…I was going to wait to tell you but I see this as a warning message…to not make the same error twice…"_

_ "Surely Headmaster, there are plenty of teachers here to _educate _the boy…" _

_ "No, Severus…you said the boy was comfortable around you so I see this as an opportunity," Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling softly. _

_ Severus glared at the man. _

_ "And if it becomes complicated?"_

_ "The only reason why it should is if you do not believe he is capable. I find it very easy to see that when others do not believe in Harry, Harry himself does not…" the headmaster was looking at him with sincerity. "He does not like being alone and I do not doubt that when Harry returns here…he will feel more alone than ever. Having that scar, being who he is…is one thing…Not being able to speak to others freely, it is as if he has been segregated already…"_

_ "I understand, Headmaster…" Severus said in a voice he didn't recognize well. _

_ "Harry will not fail you Severus…but you are more than capable of failing him." _

_ Dumbledore was looking at him in that way again, that knowing look. _

_ Severus stood and said:_

_ "Potter is safe with me."_

_ "When Harry believes it, I will believe it," and Dumbledore was smiling slightly._

* * *

_ When Severus had heard about the incident in Diagon Alley he was not at all surprised. However, when he had heard straight after that Potter had been involved he was eager to know the details and once knowing where the boy was went straight to see him and this was another problem of his. He had accepted it, he had fought it off desperately before but now he had accepted it. Potter had a hold of him in some way. When he had heard that the boy had tried to fight off Greyback he had been more than furious, he had been afraid…and Severus was not a man to be afraid of anything besides himself. But the panic that had rushed through him when he had known what the boy had done shocked him. This wasn't like him and yet it had become a part of him._

_ Potter had put it there without knowing; he had sabotaged him and now what the boy had planted in him was growing and he kept feeding it without understanding how he was doing it. It was impossible to stop. It was dangerous and it would most likely ruin him but he only really had to keep it from one person: The Dark Lord. He was good at hiding things, he was good at treachery. _

_ And he couldn't stop his hand that had come away from him to touch the boy's wound on his head. The skin was soft and warm; it was only a moment and he had not looked the boy in the eyes and he brought it away as if burned. What was he to do? He was misplaced; he had no such idea of what had happened to him or his heart. He hadn't been this frightened since he was a child; children have no real power, they cannot do anything of importance, they can only cower in a corner thinking this was the worst that life can become. But when those eyes would look at him and remind him of a past he wished to forget he suddenly wanted them to stay looking at him, only at him. It was wrong to think such a thing. It was evil and tainted but how would he stop this? It was a disease that he could not cure. _

_ In a different light the boy brought him hope. He gave him something that he knew he did not deserve. Was he doing this for the debt he owed the old wizard or was he doing this for himself? When did it change so distinctively? When did this boy become something so sacred to him? He was no deity, no angel, or god. He was just a boy with righteous kindness; a kindness that was endless, to be given out to anyone. Severus would not so willingly risk his life to save another, no. That was not in his nature. Yes, he had saved lives, he had protected the innocent but not like Potter. Potter was naïve. He saw the good in almost everyone but he was not as foolish to think people could change. The Dark Lord could not change, Greyback could not change, Bellatrix…But such a boy did not have murder in his heart. There was only one being in this world that he was prophesized to kill. He knew if the boy did not have to do such a thing he would not; it just wasn't there, not in those eyes even though they had seen too much for his age. Those eyes still remained as kind, as blue, as innocent, as bright as ever and they searched for things that even Severus could not see, they found things that he could never find. _

_ They were brilliant eyes on a face so young but strong. Why did he notice these things? Things which he had been blind to see before? It was taboo. He would surely be prosecuted. But he just couldn't be blind anymore. What was happening to him? He was drowning in confusion. He just wanted to see them, those eyes…but he would be lying if it that was all he wanted. He wanted more time, more time to spend with the boy, to understand him, to find things out that he knew everyone else already knew and he loathed that fact. How could Potter look at him the way he looked at them? _

_ He found _himself_ looking forward to things now, which was daunting. It was to be expected but he hardly wanted to accept _that. _He looked forward to Wednesdays; he always knew what date the next one was. Yes, things were different now, things had changed and he wondered what was left of who he used to be. Why did he want Potter to know he had changed? Or if not that, slowly changing? Why did he want the boy to see him in a different way, a better way? It was simply preposterous. Why would Potter ever want to see him in a different light? _

_ Perhaps he should try to force the boy to see it? No, or maybe yes. So he had a predicament. He had a task, a plan that needed careful attention to detail. He would take steps, small steps, and perhaps it wasn't as difficult as it seemed._

* * *

_ When Wednesday had arrived he had not been looking forward to having to be next to Lupin. It was easy to understand who the boy enjoyed to spend time with more. He didn't bother to say a word to the man. However, when Potter had seen that he was with the werewolf the color had faded from his face. This was interesting. What was in the boy's head? What thoughts were racing behind those eyes? He could find out if he really wanted to but then Potter would probably never trust him so he had to remain fanning the flames of his curiosity. He was angry because he could not speak to the boy the way he had been these past weeks with Lupin in the way, the man never minded his own business. _

_ They had arrived at that muggle place in which smelt of something Severus couldn't identify, it wasn't bad but it was different. Then the leech of a muggle had come, practically latching herself to the boy. She was a stranger and yet Potter treated her as if he had been friends with her for his whole life. Why this made him irritated he did not know and he also felt like he was being somewhat provoked. What was worse was that she looked so much like the therapist woman. So Severus was inclined to hate her, it was only natural. _

_ It was odd to see Potter conversing with strangers. Muggles, yes but he had been cautious. Potter was kind to them though, he had been quite timid around them which spiked Severus's interests but he had watched silently next to Lupin. They _were_ both there for the boy's protection. And Potter's kindness had bled from him, it was easy to see, to admire, to watch how civil the boy could be, how understanding he could be. It was appealing. But that woman had asked if they could sit outside for respect to the circle, the circle of trust she had called it, how daft. But he had complied almost. He had stayed outside of the room however he wasn't about to _not_ watch the boy in the group. With Lupin's silent protesting he had placed the concealment charm over him and stood by the doorway, it was easy. How else would he be able to understand what they were saying if he could not see them? Lupin had waited, sitting down for a moment but then had given in as well and copied Severus. Just so long as no one saw them disappear they were hardly doing anything wrong. _

_ So he stood, watching them, the heart wrenching muggle stories, well heart wrenching to Potter, but to Severus no, he was no stranger to regret or tragedy and neither was Lupin if he had to admit it. In his mind it was safe to say that watching the boy cry was worse than knowing these muggles' stories. It was a bit too much to realize that Potter was forcing himself to understand. Severus could tell that the boy wanted to look away, the amount of tears in his eyes and the strained look he had proved that. And his hand was so tightly wrapped in the muggle's own. He wasn't blind to see that the girl made Potter feel at ease or made him laugh when they had conversations. Severus also knew that the boy had found acceptance, that he felt like he belonged with these muggles and their stories connected with his own feelings and this was how the boy felt. Potter felt alone, and broken, desperate and full of hurt and sorrow; he was grieving and Severus did not know how long the boy would grieve, he did not know how long the boy would make himself drown in such despair but he did know that he had loved Black with everything he was. He had loved him like a boy would love his father. _

_ It was strange how things in life went. Black had died, Potter lost his ability to speak, Severus had been appointed his care taker, and now here he was seeing the boy as he should be seen but he wished Black had not met his end the way he did because it was causing the boy to suffer so. However, if Black would have lived it would matter not to Severus how Potter felt…Yes, it was extraordinary how life turns out. And then it was the boy's turn and Severus could see those hands and how horribly shaky they were convey his emotions and his story. It was difficult to know what Potter had wanted, had wished for, and how those tears fell and the boy did not care if people saw them. It was foolish to Severus because Potter could never control his emotions, he could never hide behind a mask like he himself did. _

_ When Potter had done his "Trust Fall" he wondered if he could ever do something like that with him. He didn't know how this "exercise" made him feel but Potter seemed to enjoy it. It was then that he stepped away from the door as did Lupin and they revealed themselves and sat back down. They waited, Lupin patiently and Severus without. The muggle girl went skipping out of the room and Severus wanted to glare at her but that was childish. Then the woman came out and said:_

_ "You should be proud of Harry, this is a big step," and she was smiling and she left towards the lifts. _

_ But Potter wasn't coming out and Severus stood but Lupin was faster and what happened next gave Severus mixed feelings. He hadn't known that Potter had thought Lupin blamed him for Black's death. How long had the boy felt that way? The way the boy sobbed made his heart feel raw. He could feel his face tighten in his discomfort and if Potter could speak his wracking sobs would have filled the room, would have made Severus himself go to him. But Lupin had mended the boy's worries. It was always others doing what he could not, what he would not do. But was he capable? Or would he just ruin it, ruin the boy even more?_

_ He had almost been pleased when Lupin left them and then he made Potter wash that face of his. It would have been amusing if he hadn't looked so pitiable. It was a different setting for them as they walked together toward the restaurant. They could have been comrades. Perhaps in a different place, a different time, like it had been at the beach, perhaps he could be different. He remembered how important he felt when he knew he was a wizard, how powerful it made him feel, how chosen and how he wanted to prove himself. But here, now, walking and watching the boy having to walk almost twice as fast to keep up with him and he kept looking down at his feet, here he felt it didn't matter if he couldn't be a wizard to be someone else, that was ok. If he had a new life, a new path, he wondered what he would give for such a thing, an impossible thing. What would he choose? To go back in time or be someone else entirely? But it was useless to think such things. However, as Severus watched the boy, trying to walk without slouching to make up for his short stature, a thin body, nervous hands holding onto the ends of his sweater…yes, he wondered if he could ask the boy if he felt the same way. If he could do it again, all over again, choose to be a different person, have a different life, around different people, with no burdens like the ones they held now, would he make that decision? Or would he choose to remain here, walking the concrete streets with him at his side, to stay here, to always stay here…But Severus could never ask that. There was a line he knew, a line he couldn't cross._

_ It had been an odd feeling when they waited at the light. For some reason he thought of the muggle daughter and her tragic accident and once more he lost control of his own actions and held the boy's arm. Potter wasn't a child, he wasn't an idiot but he was clumsy and forgetful. So he held him there at his side until the light turned green and let him go. He would keep him safe; he would protect the boy no matter what, no matter if he was ruined in the process, no matter if what he had to do went against Dumbledore's wishes, he would never let the boy feel forgotten or isolated. He didn't deserve it, Potter didn't deserve the way he felt but Severus himself knew he didn't deserve such wishful thinking. He didn't deserve the boy's everlasting kindness._

* * *

"Hello _Harry_," Kim the waitress greeted the boy.

Potter looked confused but Severus had eyed the nametag he was still wearing and the boy's cheeks reddened again. He would have mentioned it to him had he not looked so foolish with it on still.

The boy smiled somewhat at her as he slowly peeled the sticker off.

"Were you at a class or something?" she asked him.

"A youth group," Severus lied easily.

"Oh, that must have been fun, well; do you two need a few minutes?" Kim asked.

"Yes, thank you," he answered.

She left to another table and Severus opened his menu. He glanced at the boy who looked absolutely miserable sitting across from him. His eyes were still red and he hadn't cared to look at his menu.

"Are you not hungry, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

The boy's eyes forced themselves up and then he signed:

"I am hungry."

"Then what would you like to eat?" Severus asked. He wondered if the boy was feeling this way because he had just been through a whirlwind of emotions. He looked lost and exhausted.

Potter opened his menu and put his hand under his chin. Severus glared at the boy's elbow that was on the table. He would not stand for bad table manners or attitude. Potter seemed to notice his attention and slipped his elbow off quickly and sat up straighter.

"Come now, Mr. Potter, it's over, you don't need to dwell on it," Severus finally said as he was tired of the look in Potter's eyes.

The boy nodded and finally he looked a bit cheerful and signed:

"I'll try the Chicken Kiev with a small green salad."

"Right then," Severus closed his menu.

"You didn't want the same thing, did you?" the boy signed quickly.

"No, Mr. Potter, not this time," Severus said. When the boy was nervous he truly looked quite silly.

"So, what can I get you gentlemen?" Kim said as she took out her notebook.

"The boy will have the Chicken Kiev with a green salad and vinaigrette dressing," he said. "And I will have the salmon dish with a green salad as well."

"Usual drinks?"

"Yes please."

"Ok, those salads will be out right away," she said. "Thank you." And she took the menus and went to the back.

Severus watched as the boy stared off into space. Or maybe he was watching the other guests. Potter often watched other people. Severus didn't believe the boy was studying them, no, just merely watching because he was too curious for his own good. He looked to the boy's head where the bandage had been long since taken off and the wound was gone leaving no trace on his skin.

"Is your N.E.W.T. class really difficult?" Potter signed, finally looking forward at him.

It was an odd question coming from the boy.

"What do you think Mr. Potter?" Severus asked.

The boy's eyes fell but then he looked up.

"I'm sorry I've been so dreadful in your classes…" his hands signed and his lips moved to the words. "I want to be a better student…but I already feel as if…you don't think I deserve to be in your class."

Severus had not expected these words to suddenly come from Potter of all people.

"Mr. Potter, you received your Outstanding, that is the requirement for my class," Severus said but the boy put on such a face, an expression of irritation.

"You know that's not what I mean Professor…" the boy signed quickly. "We're not in class right now, I can talk to you about these things, you think what I think, that I'm horrible at potions and I just get by somehow…"

Severus looked at the boy skeptically. What was he trying to get from him? Did the boy really want encouragement? He was asking it from the wrong person then.

"What do you want to hear, Mr. Potter? Do you want me to confirm what you've told me?"

"You don't like me…" the boy was signing and his eyes looked disappointed. "And you single me out in class…and make me feel like…"

"Like what, Mr. Potter?" Severus knew this conversation was coming because Potter always wanted answers.

"You point out my flaws…all the time…" Potter couldn't look him the eyes and his hands were shaking. "But I know them already…"

"What do you want, Potter?" Severus asked. "Why tell me these things?" He wanted to smirk, to laugh even because the boy looked cornered, as if he had forgotten the reason he had started this conversation.

And Potter had lost his nerve, his braveness all but gone.

''I don't know…" the boy signed and those hands were nervous, pulling at the ends of his sleeves.

Their salads came with their drinks and Potter ate slowly, never looking at him but Severus wouldn't let the boy hide away again, no, he had started this and he would know the consequences.

"You don't like me, Mr. Potter so why care about what I say or don't say to you in class? Why would it matter to you when it is just as easy to brush it off, the criticism, the hateful comments, I am quite the expert at insulting you, we both know this."

And there was the expression he wanted. The look of utter bewilderment, it was too easy, he could say anything, anything out of character and he would get that face, it was selfish really to abuse it but he just couldn't help himself. Potter didn't know how to respond, his fork lay untouched on his plate and then it was as if Severus had trapped himself because Potter signed finally:

"It's not that…I don't like you…I mean I did, I hated you forever…" and the color was born in those cheeks once more. "I don't know…I don't know ok? I'm sorry for bringing it up…"

The boy put his hands down as if to stop himself from going in the direction he didn't want to go and he went back to eating without much interest. But Severus would not let this end. He would not go back, he would not turn around from this, he would not sever the ties that were so new. This was growing and he would not take the seed from the earth before it even had a chance to sprout. Severus could see the line, he could see it so clearly where it was right and wrong, what was left of it, but he wanted to cross it, wanted to see what was on the other side, what waited for him if anything. He knew what Potter could not say, he knew what the boy wanted; he wanted Severus to give him a chance. It was obvious.

He would not go back, he refused. He had made the boy smile, he had made him laugh, he had made him happy; he couldn't run away now. Severus did not run, he was not a coward, he was a man who wanted a future that he didn't deserve but he was only human. He could see his chance; he could see that line that was so tempting. Nothing would stop him because he would not go back, not to that man he used to be.

"So tell me Mr. Potter," Severus said in a low voice so that only the boy could hear. "What exactly made you stop hating me?"

And he took one step closer to that line.

* * *

**I hope everyone liked this chapter, I criticized it a lot but I hope you enjoy it. Please comment if you have the time, the next chapter will be up soon. Thank you for reading, I hope this one didn't dissapoint. **


	14. Chapter 13: These Spaces InBetween

**Chapter 13: These Spaces In-between**

"So tell me Mr. Potter," Snape's voice was low and those dark eyes held something that scared him. "What exactly made you stop hating me?"

Harry's brain was stunned again like it had been when he did not know how to defend himself. Why would Snape ask him such a thing? How could he answer it? At once he searched in his head for the answer, frantically trying to place the words together. He knew he didn't hate the man anymore, he had realized that weeks ago and then Snape had taken him to the beach for a birthday present. Why was he asking him this! Shouldn't he know? He should know! Harry shut his eyes to not see Snape staring at him. He could feel the seconds ticking by but Snape wasn't saying anything, he was just waiting and it was making Harry dizzy, making him embarrassed, making him want to hide under the table like a child.

_Don't look at me._ Harry kept thinking in his head. _I don't know why…I don't know why I don't hate you._

_ Yes you do, _came that voice in his head. _He's different now, he's been nice to you and you know you want him to like you._

_ No, that's not it! _He hated the war that was going on inside him.

What was it? He kept remembering everything: Their first lunch together, writing the letter, Snape's rage in his room, the strong hands holding his own, the worried look on his face, the beach…

_Stop! It's too weird! _Harry opened his eyes and Snape was still waiting. He opened his mouth as if words would come out but nothing came. He could feel his face growing hot and finally, finally with shaking hands he tried to grasp the answer and explain it to Snape:

"You've helped me…a lot…" Harry was having a hard time looking at Snape. "You…you've been nice to me and…you've never done that before…For the first time I…" Harry held his hands tightly because they were shaking so much and then tried to continue: "For the first time I didn't see you as cruel and I could understand you better…when I wrote the letter…I could…see you better…and I guess…because you've been nice and you've helped me…I don't know…" Harry looked at the man's face and went on: "When I'm with you…I don't feel…like the way I feel all the time…You…it's like you distract me…" Why was he admitting this? He was pathetic, he really was and all Snape was going to do was criticize him for it. "You're kind to me…when I never thought you could be kind to me…I'm sorry…"

But Snape didn't yell at him, Snape didn't get up and leave, he sat there and he didn't say anything for a while. He just sort of looked down and Harry studied his face again. Despite what the man had been through, or so Harry guessed, he looked a bit young for an adult of his age. Like he had noticed before there were lines in the man's face but not as many as he thought he should have. He was definitely an aged man and he was tall and fit. Harry wondered why he was noticing these things. Snape was looking content somehow; it was strange, there was a stillness to his face, it wasn't blank but calm, a different calm, it wasn't as if there was no emotion there. Harry could not understand it.

"You are kind, Mr. Potter," Snape's velvety voice made a chill run up his spine.

Was it a compliment? He didn't know when it came to the professor.

"What do you mean professor?" Harry signed.

"What I mean is…we've known each other for five years and during those years you would never say such things to me…and these past few weeks…because I did things quite different, you reacted in a way you would do to anyone who was nice to you…" Snape was looking at him again. "So despite five years of criticism and degradation you are capable of being kind to me."

Harry sort of understood what the man meant. Harry saw it as this: Snape didn't have to do these things, he didn't have to help him or be nice to him but he was and Harry respected that. Maybe now things would be different but it scared Harry to think that way. It was already surprising to Ron and Hermione that Snape had been acting differently. Harry didn't know where this was going but suddenly he wondered if it could last once he went back to school, would Snape just go back to being cruel and cold to him? Something in his chest stung because of that thought.

"Thank you…" Harry signed.

"Here we are," Kim said as she held a tray with their main courses upon it. "Oh, was there something wrong with the salads?"

"Oh, no," Snape said. "We just got caught up in conversation."

"Oh, well that happens," she smiled at them and set their plates down and suddenly Harry's appetite had returned because his meal smelt delicious. On the side of Chicken Kiev were baby potatoes and vegetables.

"If there is anything else you need please let me know," Kim said cheerfully and took their salad plates and left the table.

Harry ate and the lovely taste heightened his growing good mood. Snape's salmon looked delicious as well and maybe Harry would get it next time. When nothing was left on Harry's plate he wiped his mouth with his napkin and licked his lips somewhat. Snape had finished as well and said to Harry:

"Dessert?"

Harry nodded and smiled. He felt like he hadn't smiled in some time.

Harry had gotten the Treacle Tart again and Snape had gotten the Honey Blancmange. He thought it odd how it was easy to be here now in The Fish Bowl, easy to eat in front of Snape, easy to have Snape eat in front of him. What would other people say if they knew? What would they say if he said he enjoyed it here, enjoyed it and didn't like it when it was over? Because no one gave him this calm, no one else took the depression away and how strange it was that the one person who did had come to be Snape.

Even if it did end Harry had thought when Snape was paying, even if it did end when he got back to Hogwarts and Snape took his role as Potions Master again, he would still be happy for the time he did have, these Wednesdays of summer, for spaces in-between where Harry could look at this man and see someone else, someone he respected and looked forward to having lunch with.

* * *

"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape had called as he was walking toward The Burrow.

Harry turned around to see him.

"If you study you shouldn't have too much trouble in my class," Snape said and his face was shadowed a bit by the sun.

Harry nodded and turned and the loud crack echoed around the yard.

He reached the door and Ron opened it and said:

"Hey mate."

Harry signed "Hello."

When they were up in Ron's room Hermione was studying and taking notes.

"Oh Harry!" she said looking up from her books. "How was it?"

"It was…ok…" Harry signed. "I mean…everyone cried a lot."

Hermione's smile fell and she said:

"What do you mean? Are you alright?"

Ron sat on his bed as Harry sat on the other.

"Well, everyone had really sad stories…they had lost someone," Harry signed and he realized Ron was looking at him in concentration and nodding.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said.

"It's alright…" Harry smiled somewhat as he signed.

"Ron's getting better, aren't you Ron?" Hermione stated as she looked at Ron.

"Well yeah, I mean, it's a bit hard to understand how you connect the words but I'm getting there…slowly," Ron said.

"Do you want to play some Quidditch?" Harry signed and finger spelled "Quidditch".

Ron took a moment but grinned and said:

"Yeah!"

* * *

The following week Harry found himself growing bored. All he kept doing was trying to study _Advanced Potion-Making _and Hermione would help him with parts he couldn't understand. Mr. Weasley hadn't been around much because of work and Mrs. Weasley was always busy doing something. Harry was getting a bit worried with Ginny; she kept getting close to him when they were all sitting together in Ron's room. It was confusing and he didn't want to be rude to her but he wondered if Ginny really did like him more than a friend. He hoped it would never come up because he didn't like being mean to girls, he had felt horrible when he had watched Cho cry and he really thought he had liked her that way but maybe not, maybe he was no good when it came to those kind of relationships.

Ron and Hermione had their little flirting that he knew they would deny if he asked them about it. It was a bit awkward at some points but they never excluded Harry, in fact Ron was making Harry teach him sign language, he would keep pestering Harry because Hermione was busy with reading. So Harry would comply but it was hard to teach him when he couldn't explain much and he would get angry trying to write directions down. It was weird to Harry to actually see Ron studying hard with his and Hermione's BSL books. It actually made Harry happy because Ron was like a brother to him and Hermione a sister and she had already taken the time to learn the language. It was touching when they tried so much for him and he was happy to have them.

But Wednesday wasn't coming fast enough and Harry would find himself lying in bed on his back not knowing what to do. He kept practicing on how to clear his mind for Occlumency so much that it was becoming rather easy but Harry wished there was something he could do. Studying gave him headaches and made him stress and he had to stay away from stress. He wanted to go to that beach again and go swimming out into the waves. He often stared at the seashell that he had kept, watching it glisten in the sun that came through the window.

When he had gotten too bored he made Ron and Hermione do the "The Trust Fall" exercise with him which Hermione had found exhilarating but when Harry had tried to catch Ron he dropped him so after much cursing from his ginger friend he and Hermione convinced him to try it again if both of them were there to catch him which it had worked and then Ginny had wanted to try it insisting that Harry be her partner which he obliged and then Fred and George had come over and they tried it (Fred purposely not catching Ron) and then Bill and Fleur had come upstairs due to the banging sounds and they tried it and Harry had been happy with himself for making a good time of it and had them all laughing.

Tuesday night Harry was in a good mood and after dinner Harry, Ron, and Hermione had brought a big blanket out into the yard and laid it down. They sat down on the blanket and Harry lay down and looked up at the stars. Ron was next to him, and Hermione next to Ron; Ron albeit closer to Hermione then to him. Harry enjoyed the cool breeze, the soft chirping of crickets and the sounds of the Weasley's chickens. It was nice, it was better than being inside.

"There's less than three weeks left of summer…" Ron muttered. "I wonder what it'll be like when we go back…"

"It will be much better because Umbridge is gone," Hermione said. "That devil of a woman…"

"You nervous, mate?" Ron said to him. "You know…"

Harry nodded his head softly, though it was bit difficult because he was lying down.

"It'll be alright," Ron said after a moment.

It was then that a shooting star crossed the sky, fleetingly, as fast as lightning and it was gone. Hermione had gasped softly and Ron had let out a whispered "Whoa." Harry smiled but he did not make a wish; he thought perhaps Ron or Hermione's were more important.

* * *

He had opened the door and the Potions Master stood there wearing his black over coat with a black dress shirt with gray buttons and dark gray slacks and those very shiny shoes.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Snape greeted him and Harry smiled slightly when he met the man's eyes. "I suggest you bring a sweater, it's a bit dreary today."

Harry noticed that the sky was murky and it was drizzling out. He wore a gray long sleeve thin shirt over light blue jeans and his white trainers. He was about to turn around to head upstairs to get one of his jumpers but Mrs. Weasley had come down with his blue jumper already in hand.

"Here you go dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she handed him the jumper. "Good morning, Severus, I hope you two have a good day, I'll see you when you get back Harry."

Harry nodded and walked out into the cool morning air and the mist made his ears cold already. He put his jumper on as Snape walked over to where the field began and Harry hurried after him. When Snape held his arm out Harry couldn't help but feel cheerful; when he was with Snape the deep ache in his chest seemed to lift somewhat. He took the arm and felt the muscle beneath the coat's fabric. He closed his eyes and they were gone.

* * *

"Morning Harry," Ms. Gardiner greeted him as he entered the room.

"Good morning," Harry signed.

"Seems like you're in a really good mood, something nice happen?" she said as she straightened some papers on her desk and Harry sat down on the black couch. She wore dark red robes today that were a bit longer than her usual ones and white high heels. Her hair was down but pulled behind her with a white ribbon.

"No…just…happy I guess…" Harry signed in reply. He felt a bit of heat rise to his face.

"That's good," she said and she sat before him like always. "Today Harry I really want to focus on Occlumency. We only have two sessions left after this."

"I see…" Harry signed and his smile sort of fell slightly. "We won't have any after that?"

"I'm not sure Harry; I need to discuss it with Professor Dumbledore, it is entirely up to him if I am allowed to come to Hogwarts to keep up with our sessions."

Harry nodded and then asked her something he had been wondering for a while:

"What house were in at Hogwarts?" Harry signed.

"Ravenclaw," she answered with a smile. "Though I do remember the Sorting Hat telling me I would also do well in Slytherin."

Harry's eyes widened a bit at this information.

"Slytherin? You're joking…" Harry signed with an amazed expression.

"No, I'm being quite honest," Ms. Gardiner's smile brightened. "You see Harry; I _can _be sort of a bully. I was ruthless in school at Hogwarts; I wouldn't let anyone take away what credit belonged to me. I didn't like to be proven wrong." Her eyes were darkened because the clouds were covering the sun today.

"I would have thought you would be a Gryffindor," Harry signed. "You're so kind."

"Yes, well, perhaps if I were the person I am today when I was eleven the Hat would have placed me in Gryffindor," Ms. Gardiner said. "But Slytherins aren't all bad Harry. Remember, you can't judge a book by its cover."

Harry nodded and then he thought of something.

"Can I talk to you about something?" he signed.

"Anything, Harry," she said.

Harry stared at her glossed nails before signing:

"You know…Professor Snape? Well, before I lost my voice…he was really…I mean really cruel to me in school," Harry was keeping his eyes focused as he tried to explain what he was getting at. "Any chance he got, he would either insult me or humiliate me. I understand though why he did it. When he was in school he and my dad hated each other and they bullied each other a lot. I guess…Snape is one of those people who holds a grudge. I mean I look like my dad mostly the hair and glasses so I could see why he would take out his bitterness on me, I mean I didn't like it at all, I hated it because he made me feel like a fool most of the time. I hated him." Harry was signing and his eyes were looking at her and away from her as she listened and didn't say anything. "But when I lost my voice…I don't know, Snape sort of…started to be nice to me…I mean, he's helped me a lot before because he had to being a teacher and all but this was different…He doesn't look at me the way he used to…" As he was signing these words Harry was realizing it himself. "He doesn't look at me like he hates me…It's only been a few weeks…and I find myself enjoying the time we have together…I mean, we go to lunch every time after these sessions, I don't know if you knew, and he took me to the beach on my birthday, it was the best present…" He realized even through sign he was ranting on. "I'm sorry…I just want to know…He was a Slytherin in school…and he hated me…so is it possible for someone to change that way?"

Ms. Gardiner was looking at Harry for a long time before she said anything.

"Harry…I think if Professor Snape really is acting this way towards you meaningfully…Harry, I think it's wonderful for you to see a friend in him even if he is your teacher," Ms. Gardiner said softly. "People do change, I think because Snape has been with you this summer he sees you, Harry and not your father, I think now Harry, he cares about you."

Harry was a bit surprised at her answer.

"But…I don't think that's true, I mean, I don't think he cares about me," Harry signed. "He can't change that easily and all of a sudden feel that way. What I wanted to say is I think he just feels sorry for me and maybe he doesn't see my dad in me anymore but…I really don't think he wants to try that hard. I really think he's just helping Dumbledore…I don't really know…"

"Do you trust him Harry?" she asked him and Harry watched her long eyelashes flutter as she blinked softly.

"I…don't know…" Harry signed and his hands were trembling slightly. "I think I do…But that's wrong isn't it? To trust someone so quickly?"

"Well Harry, I think you should take time to think about it," Ms. Gardiner replied gently. "Give it the time it needs and I'm sure you'll have your answer."

Harry nodded.

"Ok, Harry, are you ready to practice a bit of Occlumency?" she asked him.

Harry nodded once more.

"Ok, so I want you to clear your mind like you've been practicing, take a moment," she instructed him. "Close your eyes and after ten seconds open them."

Harry closed his eyes and he easily was able to focus on clearing all the thoughts in his mind; they fell away as if he shut them all off. He tried not worry about his questioning trust for Snape. He just relaxed his muscles and thought of nothing. When the ten seconds were up he opened his eyes and she was pointing her wand at him and suddenly the room was gone:

_He was reading his very first Hogwarts letter with the feeling of awe…He was seeing The Burrow for the first time and thought it was the best house he'd ever been in…_Then the office swam into view and he was staring at the Ms. Gardiner.

"Very good Harry," she praised him and Harry smiled. It hadn't been too hard, he just had to find her and she was somewhere in the middle he thought.

"Again," she said and she raised her wand and Harry concentrated.

_He was drinking Butterbeer for the first time. Ron was shouting at Hermione because he thought her cat had eaten Scabbers. The Whomping Willow's branches almost struck him. Sirius's soul was leaving his body…NO!_

Harry gasped as the office came into view again as if it were a flickering candle. She had gone somewhere farther and he had felt her slip from his control, getting passed his wall.

"I'm sorry Harry," Ms. Gardiner said. "I touched something too sensitive."

Harry looked at her and he wondered if she had always known his godfather had been Sirius Black; she was intelligent and cunning…

"No…It's fine…" Harry's hands were shaking as he signed. What was the matter? Did it really hurt to remember him? Was it so wrong to remember him? He was in his dreams all the time but to see something real of him…

"Harry, do you want to continue?" her voice was very gentle.

Harry hesitated but he wouldn't give up. He could do this. So he nodded and took a breath and she raised her wand:

_He was fighting off the Hungarian Horntail, trying to get that golden egg. He was watching Cedric dance with Cho, wishing he could be in his place. The train was leaving and the big black dog was chasing after it…Please, I don't want to see this! _And he pushed the intruder away.

He opened his eyes to darkness and realized his hands were over his eyes and the sudden tears were cold but his breathing wasn't labored.

"Harry…you did well, I went much farther…Harry, understand this please, your godfather is who you are grieving for, remembering such things, it is painful…" Ms. Gardiner said. "But you find me quickly and soon you'll realize I'm there before I even see anything. You'll be able to block me constantly."

Harry nodded.

"Are you alright? Do you want some tea?" her kind voice was making him relax once more.

Harry nodded again.

So they had hot tea and played chess for the remainder of the session but before it was time to go she asked him:

"Harry, I want to ask you something," Ms. Gardiner said. "Do you ever, ever, feel like you might be able to say something, like it might happen but it doesn't?"

Harry was looking at her and he was worried now because nothing like that ever happened.

"No," he signed.

"Ok," she nodded and she smiled softly. "See you next Wednesday Harry, I hope you have a good day."

"You too," Harry signed and left the room.

* * *

"Finished are we?" Snape said and he stood up.

Harry had walked over to him as he had come back to the waiting room. He wanted to ask him something but he felt he could wait till later.

"I will only be a moment," the man said and walked quickly toward the hall.

He watched Snape walk away and he sat down, waiting for a minute and feeling nervous. Would Ms. Gardiner talk about what he had said about Snape? His heart started to beat faster. Oh why did he have to say those things to her? It was just on his mind and it had been getting to him and she really was the only person he could talk to about it. He waited about a minute or so before he stood up and he found his legs taking him to her office again, slowly so Snape didn't see him following him. He walked up the few flights of white stairs. At the end of the empty hallway he saw Ms. Gardiner's office door close shut, Snape had just went inside. He hurried down the hall quietly, his feet taking light steps and stopped before the closed door and he could hear Snape's voice. Hardly breathing he went closer to the door and placed his ear to it:

"Good afternoon."

"How have you been Professor Snape?" Ms. Gardiner sounded cheerful. "Please sit down."

He heard footsteps and then he guessed Snape had sat down on the couch. He really shouldn't be listening; he should have stayed in the lobby. What did it matter what they talked about? What did it really matter what Snape would say?

"Harry is advancing in Occlumency, I went further with him today and he was able to block me out completely after a few tries."

"Well, Professor Dumbledore will surely be satisfied with the news," Snape didn't sound enthused at all. It was strange hearing his voice like this; it was the way he always spoke with Harry when they had been at school. "Personally I find it to be quite the phenomenon that Potter is even able to _empty_ that mind of his."

"I don't see what you mean."

"The boy was an absolute mess during the group session. I would think that with all that goes on in his head he'd be quite unstable to have someone delve themselves into his memories, _especially _the ones of his godfather." Snape's voice was just one tone like always and Harry didn't understand it.

"Well, we are taking it slow; I haven't gone that far in," Ms. Gardiner also sounded different, like she was defending Harry and she was serious.

"Believe me, once you do get _that_ far in, I'm sure he will be as hopeless as he was under my _teaching…_"

There was silence and Harry wondered what Ms. Gardiner's face looked like. He wondered why Snape's words seemed so harsh to him.

"Harry and I talked a lot about something today." Her voice was slightly forceful.

"And that would be?"

Harry held his already limited breathing.

"Well, he wanted to talk about you," she said. "He wanted to know if someone could change after so long of being the same way. He said you were being kind to him and that you're helping him."

Snape didn't reply and Harry's heart was pounding so strongly in his chest for some reason.

"Do you care for Harry, Professor Snape?" Ms. Gardiner asked. "I told him it sounded like you did but Harry was quick to deny it, he said you were probably feeling sorry for him."

There was still silence from Snape until:

"I don't bother with such things, he is a student of mine and that is all," Snape's voice was what Harry had always been used to and Harry couldn't breathe. "My orders are from the headmaster, he wished for me to help Potter and so I simply obliged. It was hard not to take pity on him because he always looks so _pitiful_."

"Professor, that is quite…"

"You asked if I cared for the boy. If you must know:…not at all." Snape's voice sounded so easy, such an obvious tone. "Are we done here? I talk enough about Potter already when I am with him."

Something inside Harry plummeted and he came away from the door like a marionette. His arms and legs felt numb, he was barely seeing what was in front of him. What? What did it matter? So what if Snape said those things? That was Snape; that was what he'd always been. So what? Harry was feeling dizzy, disoriented; the white walls were making him feel like he was being closed in on. What was he expecting? But he had said so many things to him, so many things that had made him believe. Believe what? That he was nice? That he really did care about him? Gave a damn about him? Snape _wasn't _nice. Snape would never do such things. His head was swimming. Swimming, the beach, what had that been? Just something that he was made to do after all? What was happening? He was feeling so sick, so humiliated. Had Snape just done all this to humiliate him? Just some other way to make a fool out of him? Had he just been lying to him? This whole time…But why would he do that? Why would he waste his time to do that? Waste his time with Harry to just laugh at him in the end. Snape wasn't kind, Snape wasn't, it was impossible…Everything was being thrown around in his head like a raging storm. Stop it. What did he expect? Did it really mean anything to him? Why did it mean so much to him? Why did he want Snape to like him? Why had it meant so much to know the man didn't hate him? But what were those looks? The way his eyes were on him never holding that hate or scorn or cruelty? Maybe he made it up? Maybe he was just lying to himself this whole time? It was never there, it hadn't been there at all. Those eyes would always, always look at him with hatred and a coldness that could never die…_Why? _Why did he feel like it mattered? It wasn't a surprise, he had always known this so why, why did this hurt him so much?

The door swung open and Snape had stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Harry, something flickered behind those eyes that he could not trust.

"Potter…" he said and he sounded breathless.

Harry was trying to think, to think of anything and he shook his head slowly, mechanically as if to say he was sorry for something, he had done something wrong and his numb legs were taking him backwards to the unknown flight of stairs behind him. Things were moving so measurably and he was afraid, he was so afraid. And then his foot slipped and he didn't know why he was falling, he didn't know what was happening, he didn't know what he was doing anymore and all he heard before something struck the back of his head with such force was Snape's loud shout:

"POTTER!"

And the darkness just seemed to consume him like the night Sirius had died.

* * *

**I really hope people liked this chapter and it wasn't boring, I felt worried about the last scene but I wanted to have it so I hope you liked it and the next chapter will be up soon. Thank you for reading and I really hope you can review if you have the time.**


	15. Chapter 14: In This Silence

**I'll just put this up again for those who may not have seen it:**

**I just wanted to let everyone know that how I describe Harry is in the way he is portrayed in the movies, well his looks anyway because he is short with dark brown hair and blue eyes. I also have the previous school years match the books, only taking some scenes from the movies and making references to them throughout the story, I hope this doesn't discourage people from reading but I just wanted to let everyone know so there is no confusion. **

**This chapter has both Harry's POV and Snape's POV and it switches back and forth.**

* * *

**Chapter 14: In This Silence**

_It had been a long time since kind words were spoken to him. Words that were for him, just for him and it made him feel such a strange feeling. Severus had only had such a thing many years ago and they seemed like fleeting moments in memories to him now. Yes, he could watch those memories over and over if he liked but nothing would come of it but the feeling of regret and the coldness that reached all the way to his bones. That was over, it was the past but this, this was here with him now and it was in its infancy but, he thought with too much hope, it could grow to be something that could save him from this lifelong prison, a prison with its bars held up by bitterness and hate and despair. _

_ These were the boy's words and even though he could not hear them those lips were moving and he had seen the words given to him so delicately, so timidly and it was a beautiful thing. Those eyes behind shining frames would search him, would quiver and look away but return when courage was found. They were different than the eyes he had seen long ago; because they belonged to someone else. So he could distract the boy from his depression, from his sorrow. The reality of it made him feel like he did have a purpose, a better purpose than the one he had now. Yes, the boy distracted him too. Made him feel as if time didn't matter, as if what lay ahead wasn't evil and dark and whether it was good or bad he didn't care because he wanted it, he wanted what he could not have but perhaps, just in a second of approval, there could be a chance._

_ But he had always wound up hurting what he cared about. Always wound up losing it in some way. He was a fool; he couldn't be like the boy. He couldn't wear his heart on his sleeve. He couldn't for many reasons. And he couldn't be truthful with himself. He had said such things that held no truth in them whatsoever to the woman. She was trying to see him. She was trying to find out but he could not show her the truth because he wasn't that kind of man. He could always be a good liar, he could always be selfish, vile, nasty, downright evil at times but he could not be honest with himself and he would never show his face, his real face to others. _

_ Then he had opened the door and those eyes were staring at him as if he had just stabbed Potter in the heart with a knife. They looked so saddened, so scared, so lost and he knew the boy had heard every word and he knew what the boy was thinking now; he knew he thought that he had just been lying to him, tricking him, pretending. That face made his heart sink. What had he done? And the boy was moving away, legs carrying him backward and it happened too fast for him to do anything. He was falling and the sound, the horrible sound of bone cracking seemed to echo inside him._

* * *

He didn't know how he got to the boy so fast to hold him there as the blood pooled beneath the wound, spilling out onto the white stairs. He had never panicked in such a way before and the therapist woman and hurried off somewhere and moments started to blur into the ones that came after. Healers had taken the boy from him and he was made to wait. His hands were shaking and they had blood on them, Potter's blood. He washed it off quickly in a restroom he somehow found and he couldn't catch up with what was happening. He felt sick and confused; he couldn't get a hold of himself and when his brain finally caught up with his body he was waiting outside the room Potter was in. He glanced at the clock on the wall with its gold numbers and realized it had been an hour.

The woman was sitting on a bench next to him. He didn't even know how or when she had come with him here. Severus was about to just go into the room when a healer came out to them.

"He's sleeping now, he will be out for a while, don't expect him to feel all that well when he wakes up; it was quite the fall," the man said. "Cracked the skull but we made sure to do a diagnostic on the brain and it came out normal; no damage. You can go in and see him now if you'd like." And the man left.

Severus didn't need telling twice as he entered the room and Potter was in the last white bed by the window. The rest of the beds were unoccupied. The woman did not follow him for she had gone. He went to the boy's bedside and they had put him in a hospital gown like before. A blanket was over him and his glasses had been taken off. A thin layer of white bandages had been wrapped around his forehead. Potter was sleeping soundly, his face calm and his chest rising and falling gently.

He had been the reason for the boy's injury. Severus felt guilty. He knew the boy was clumsy, he knew he should have reached out to grab him but he had been so stunned by the boy's face. He would wait here, sitting by his side until the boy awoke and then he would tell him that what he had heard wasn't true, the boy needed to know it, he had to know it. If Potter didn't believe him Severus didn't know what he would do. So he sat there and without really meaning to, without caring for much, his hand took the boy's right one carefully in his own. Fingers so warm and thin, the hand looked small in his own but Severus had never been short for his age, he had grown into a man quite some time ago, grown tall, got older but the boy, it was as if he had gotten stuck somewhere but he was proportional for his short stature. So he held that hand, cheating against what was allowed and he would wait, he would be patient because the boy deserved much more than just his patience.

* * *

Harry's bare feet walked across the cold sand before the rippling shore. They sunk into the wet sand making foot prints. The sky was gray and the wind was strong. The ocean's waters looked dark and deep. The touch of the water against his feet chilled him. The ends of his jeans got wet as he was looking down, watching as the water went back and forth, the sand rising and sinking. He walked further, his feet splashing through the water. He went in as deep as his waist and the ocean felt frozen to his skin. Something ahead of him was floating on the waves and making its way to him. He watched it go up and down, making its slow journey to him. At last the white lily was within reach and with two hands he scooped it up out of the ocean. Its petals were unharmed, so perfect and he held it before him.

But something else was with him in this place; someone else. He moved his head to his right and there he was; the demon that had taken everything from him, that had ruined everything. Voldemort stood with the ends of his black graying cloak wavering in the water. His eyes were on Harry. The large hand with those yellowed, sharp nails rose up, holding it out before Harry as if asking for something. And ever so slowly he held the lily in his own hand and placed it gently into Voldemort's. An elated wickedness spread over the demon's face and the white lily started to decay in that hand, blackening; the tiny pieces floated away, taken by the wind.

Harry was just watching as his whole body now faced Voldemort's. This was what he had; this is what was left for him. The hand that had held the lily had come to his face now, holding his chin up and Harry stared into those eyes and he wasn't moving. But he closed his eyes and let himself take comfort in the darkness that was there and then there was just silence and he felt his body fall back into the waters and he didn't want to be anything, he didn't want to feel anything or understand anything; all he wanted was to forget, forget everything and become a part of the ocean, in its waters, in its body and move through the whole world as just a piece of it and there would be no pain, no purpose, he could just be and that was it.

But he was shattering, breaking, like Sirius's mirror and he couldn't fix himself, he couldn't stop hearing that voice that seemed to be made of velvet and in the darkness he wrestled with unknown hands that tried to grab him and take him to who knows where. Those words came from everywhere, every corner of his existence and he wanted to scream for it to stop but he couldn't. He was so mixed up, so lost, so out of place and felt such anger inside of him. Oh how he would give anything for it to stop, to just stop feeling it, to stop the pain, to let go of the things he couldn't let go of.

There were lights before his eyes, blinking in and out of the space he lived in. He was set free from the grappling limbs and he sat on his knees and couldn't bear to live, he couldn't take how broken his heart was, how he couldn't breathe at some points, how everything he did was so useless and it didn't make a difference. The lights kept blinking and he began to walk toward them as if they would bring him some kind of relief from all this, from wherever he was; he was moving fast, the lights were racing by and then he was awake.

* * *

It was dark where he was, the only light seemed to come from somewhere to his left. His senses in his body were filling him up and he felt horrible. His head ached badly and his eyes burned. His whole body felt stiff and heavy. But he was warm which felt good. He was finally able to move his eyes and he looked around but could only see the ceiling. He would have to move his aching head to see where he was. Harry felt groggy and nauseous. Then he realized his mouth was ever so dry and that he was very thirsty. He needed to get up somehow.

"Mr. Potter?"

The sudden voice made him blink swiftly which hurt. Where had it come from? He really needed to move. Harry found strength somewhere within him to finally turn his head to the right and in the dim lit room he found himself looking at someone and it took only a terrible moment before he realized who it was and the memories were rushing back inside his head. He remembered it all, remembered what Snape had said, remembered how it had made him feel, remembered the stairs. Had he really hit his head again? That made this three times now and this time being the worst since he felt so awful. Snape…_Snape_. What an idiot he had been for ever thinking he could trust the man. Could believe he actually wanted to help Harry and be kind to him out of his own free will.

"Mr. Potter, can you hear me?"

Snape's voice made his head hurt even more. Oh if Harry could just make him vanish. If his voice could work he'd be telling the man to shut up and go away. Then something came away from his hand which meant that there had been something in his hand. Snape had been holding his hand. What was going on? He needed to able to move already. It was then that Snape placed his glasses on his face and everything became clear to his eyes. Snape was standing by his hospital bed with a very worried expression. Harry didn't understand. His heart pained him.

Harry heard footsteps coming over to him and a woman's voice said gently:

"Finally awake, Mr. Potter. You must be feeling very sluggish. You need to drink this for me, Mr. Potter."

A hand held his chin and pulled it down somewhat and a fowl tasting liquid fell down his throat and he almost choked but managed to swallow the stuff. But at once he was feeling energized, stronger, as if the muscles and joints in his body had been awakened.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to go home till the morning, Mr. Potter," Harry turned to see a woman in green robes with short brown hair and light brown eyes or from what he could tell was their color because the room was so dim. "I'll come in a few hours to give you another dose of Strengthening Potion." And she left, walking quickly out the door.

Harry really didn't want to turn his head to face Snape but the man wasn't leaving so reluctantly he pushed himself up slowly with his hands. It took a lot out of him as he finally was sitting up in his bed feeling light headed.

"Mr. Potter…" Snape's voice sounded almost nervous.

Harry turned his head to face Snape and then he looked away; even just looking at the man made him feel sick. He couldn't deny it anymore. It had hurt to hear those words from Snape. He really believed that Snape had changed. He had really fell for the man's act and believed that Snape might actually have liked the time he spent with Harry like he had enjoyed it. Now all of it just felt unreal and worthless. Harry wondered what time it was. It was dark out and Snape was in the same clothes so he probably was out for at least 6 or 7 hours. Had the man really stayed in the hospital that long?

"Would you like a glass of water?"

Harry didn't move, but stayed glaring at his hands. He heard Snape pick up the water jug that had been at the end of the bed and pour it into a glass. The glass came into his line of vision and Harry's great thirst won over his stubbornness and he took the glass with both hands. Snape's hand didn't leave the glass however as Harry brought it towards his lips. The cold water felt good as he drank with some difficulty. When he was done Snape took the empty glass away from him and he set it up on the table.

With a certain kind of sadness Harry realized he was hungry and that they hadn't gone to lunch at The Fish Bowl. He felt his bottom lip began to shake. No, no he would not cry in front of Snape. Not like this. Why did he always feel so pathetic? Why did Snape's words affect him so? Why couldn't he stop how much they had hurt him? He wasn't a child, he was 16. He could take care of himself. He didn't want whatever Snape had given him. But Snape was the only one who gave him what he needed. Snape, out all people, eased the pain, eased the worry and misery. Even now, even now after he had heard what the man had said he could still feel Snape's presence working on him like it always did. How he hated that.

"Mr. Potter…" Snape was almost whispering.

Harry slowly brought his eyes up to see the man's face. With heavy hands he signed:

"What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you to wake up," Snape said.

In the dim light those black pools seemed to shine but Harry didn't want to trust those eyes.

"Please don't look at me that way," Snape suddenly said and Harry blinked in confusion. What was the way he was looking at Snape? He couldn't tell.

"I know you heard what I said to her…" Snape's voice was so different from how it had been in the office. It was somehow soft but it sounded pained. What was wrong with him?

"You don't have to explain," Harry signed and he was growing angry. "You were just following orders; you were just doing what Dumbledore told you to do."

"No, well yes at the start of all this I was doing what Dumbledore asked me to do," Snape's words were somewhat forced and his eyes looked strained. He opened his mouth as if to say more but shut it and his jaw tightened. He looked frustrated now and he quickly spat out, "Why did you have to be listening at the door?! I'd gone over what I was going to say all this time and now I've forgotten it all!"

Snape's hands were clenched into fists and he was glaring down at them. Harry had never seen Snape angry with himself and it was confusing. The man looked shaken, nervous, a way Harry had never seen him before. Harry waited unsure of what to do. He watched as Snape took a deep breath and then he spoke again, looking at Harry.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry you had to hear those things, they weren't true."

"You're lying to me," Harry signed quickly with a grimace. "I don't need your pity."

"I'm not! And I don't pity you!" Snape snapped.

"Then why did you say those things to her?" Harry signed. Harry's hands were trembling now because he was getting too worked up over this.

"Because Potter! What did you expect me to say?!" Snape was on his feet now; he was speaking fast. "That I'm relieved that you're doing well with Occlumency?! That I want to be kind to you and help you because I despise seeing you so desperately trying to be happy when you're not?!"

Harry shook his head quickly and signed:

"No, that doesn't make sense. You don't care about me, why would you? Why would you start now after all these years of hating me?" Harry's heart was pounding so hard in chest and it was hard to breathe.

"Because you're _not_ your _father!_" Snape's voice echoed throughout the dim lit room.

Harry's hands fell limply at his side as he stared at Snape who was breathing hard now, fists clenched and dark eyes ablaze with determination. It was a moment and Snape sat back down in the chair, almost falling into it and he was hunched over slightly with his hands clutching his forehead. "_You're_ not him…I can't _hate_ you for something you are not…When this all started…I didn't want to believe it…I didn't want to see you as you…but I couldn't stop it from happening…and then you gave me that letter…and that was _it_…I couldn't force his face over yours anymore…You're so different from _him_…" Snape's voice was light, almost gentle and he had his eyes closed. "You're so kind to everyone, even me…even after all I've done to you…"

Harry was watching Snape and he didn't know what was happening. He didn't know what to think but he realized what had happened in his room all those days ago made sense. Snape had believed something for so long, ever since he first laid eyes on Harry and that day he had been proven wrong.

"I am sorry," Snape continued and his eyes looked to Harry and he sat up straight. "For what you heard, I know those words hurt you…but you have to know I didn't mean them…"

Harry was looking down at his hands. Were Snape's words really true? Flashes of memories kept playing over and over in his head; all those times Snape had degraded him, humiliated him, looked at him with those hateful eyes but Harry couldn't find that anymore. He couldn't see what he used to see in those eyes. It was gone completely; as if the bitterness had finally died away. So what were they now? Just student and teacher? They weren't enemies anymore…But how could he believe it? How could Snape feel that way about him? He needed time to adjust to this because it really was too much.

"Mr. Potter…" Snape called gently.

Harry lifted his head and Snape was staring at him and Harry felt embarrassed. He felt vulnerable, open now, not protected by the image of his father. Snape was seeing him as Harry and his face felt hot and he was wondering why he felt like this.

"Are we friends?" Harry signed without meaning to. It was if he couldn't stop his hands from moving.

Snape was looking over him and Harry felt like he was being x-rayed.

"Yes, we can be friends Mr. Potter," Snape finally said.

"Is that ok…I mean…with your position and…" Harry was signing.

"It will not present a problem," Snape replied.

Harry nodded once. He thought he would feel angry but he couldn't. It was strange because Snape was so different now, he couldn't go back to see the man he used to see. He couldn't hate Professor Snape.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded as he rested against the bed's pillows. He thought a couple months ago the idea of trusting Snape was outrageous and now he was here and Snape was here and he had no idea how things were going to be between them.

"Do you need anything?" Snape asked and he got to his feet.

Harry felt his face flush and he hesitated for a moment and shuffled around in the bed trying to see if the gown was closed in the back and was relieved that it was. He removed the blanket from him and with great effort swung his legs over the side. Snape had somehow walked around the bed and was at Harry's side. The man was fast. Harry stood but it was as if his feet could barely hold him up but Snape steadied him.

"What are you doing?" he asked Harry.

Harry looked away and then simply signed:

"Bathroom…"

"Oh…" was all Snape said.

It took a long while for Harry to make it to the restroom down the hall. His legs felt so heavy and his muscles ached. Snape's hold was strong as one arm was around his shoulders and his other hand held his upper arm. He returned as Snape had waited outside the restroom for him and then helped him walk slowly back to his hospital bed. The man sat back down in the chair by his bed.

"Thanks…" Harry signed quickly because he was embarrassed.

"You'll get all your strength back soon," Snape said.

Harry waited a moment before signing.

"Does anyone know I'm here?"

"I fire called the Headmaster a while ago," Snape answered. "I'm sure he let Mrs. Weasley know of your…whereabouts."

"You don't have to stay here with me," Harry signed. "I'm ok."

"I am fine here," Snape said. "I _am_ the reason you are in this hospital bed, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded once. It was different being with Snape at night.

"Are you hungry at all?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded. He was very hungry. For some reason he wondered if the waitress Kim had noticed their absence.

"I will go get us something to eat, I will be right back," Snape said as he stood up and hurried out of the room.

Harry let his thoughts wander as he waited. He really couldn't believe the things Snape had told him. It made him happy somehow though. He really didn't know why. A lot of people had been kind to him, had helped him, had been wonderful to him but coming from Snape it seemed different, like it meant more than it would from other people. It was weird how much he himself had changed because he had lost his voice. Harry wondered what it would be like when he got back to Hogwarts.

Snape returned carrying a tray of containers. When he set the tray down Harry saw there were small sandwiches covered by a plastic cover on a plate as well as two plastic bowls with covers as well, Harry guessed they had soup in them. There were napkins and two spoons on the tray and two plastic cups with some sort of juice in them.

They ate in silence. It was much different than eating together at a restaurant but Harry didn't feel awkward. The bowls had chicken and vegetable soup in them and it was quite good. Snape only had one of the meat and cheese sandwiches though. When Snape was finished and Harry was still eating the man just watched him. Harry was glad for the dimness in the room because he could feel his face burning. When he was done he felt very drowsy and exhausted.

"You need to sleep," Snape said to him as he sat in the chair.

"But what about you?" Harry signed. His eyes just kept getting heavier.

"I will be fine, just lie down Mr. Potter," Snape's words seemed to drift into Harry's half-conscious state.

Harry did so and he kept thinking what Snape was going to do if Harry fell asleep and he felt the blanket come over him and Snape had taken off his glasses. When his eyes closed he fell into the darkness almost instantly.

* * *

When he awoke the hospital room was lit up with sunlight and his eyes blinked at the sudden intrusion of light. He briefly remembered someone waking him up in the middle of the night and giving him another dose of a potion. He sat up with ease this time and he realized the bandages that had been on his head were gone and that he felt much better. He didn't see Snape anywhere in the room however. It was a few minutes before the man came back to the room carrying what Harry assumed was his clothes he wore yesterday folded neatly as well as his wand, Invisibility Cloak, his pen and his notebook.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Snape said. "I trust you are feeling well enough to go home?"

"Did they say I could?" Harry signed.

"Yes, they just discharged you."

Through the blurriness Harry watched Snape set his things down and take his glasses that were on the bedside table and put them over Harry's eyes. Harry got out of bed and he felt stronger this time and picked up his things.

"Change and then I will take you to The Burrow," Snape said.

Harry did so hurryingly as he went to the restroom down the hall. When he came out Snape was waiting for him. Snape held out his arm and Harry held onto it tightly as always and they Apparated to The Burrow. Harry found the fresh chill of the morning air relieving.

"Well, I will see you next Wednesday Mr. Potter," Snape said.

Harry waited and he looked over at the field that was cascaded in shadow and the early morning light. He felt a bit sad. Wednesday was a long way away it seemed. He really did like spending time with Snape.

"So we're friends?" Harry signed.

Snape was looking at him, the bright light from the sun made those dark eyes glisten almost.

"Yes, we're friends."

"Thank you…for helping me," Harry signed and turned around quickly so that Snape wouldn't see his flushed face. He hurried off and didn't look back even though he wanted to.

* * *

"I'm happy for how much you have grown, Severus," Dumbledore said.

They were in the man's office as Severus had come straight to it when he had left the boy at The Burrow. He had told the Headmaster what had happened leaving out a few details but Dumbledore understood how Potter felt about things now.

"Yes…" Severus said.

"Well, if your report is done…" Dumbledore began.

"I will ask again: Are you going to tell me where _exactly_ you have been going?" Severus stood up from the chair.

"Now Severus, I think you already know the answer to that and should let the subject be for now," the Headmaster answered.

Severus lowered his eyes.

"Well then, till next time," the old wizard smiled.

Severus left the man's office finally feeling quite exhausted. He hadn't minded watching the boy all night as he slept soundly, hardly moving. The boy had looked so relaxed. He had always had a book on him wherever he went so he had read with the light of his wand and then before he knew it the sun was rising. He was more than relieved that Potter had forgiven him without saying so for what had happened. Severus was going to have to be more careful from now on. He didn't want to put such a face on the boy again; it was devastating to him to have to see it.

It was surprising what had come of the situation. Potter wanted them to be friends. So they were comrades. Severus at first had been wary to answer but that was just a reflex. Despite the dim luminosity of the room the boy's blue eyes held such light in them and they were honest and in that moment he thought he could never stand to see those eyes look sorrowful. So he agreed to be such friends. The worry was still held by the boy's shoulders and Severus knew he could not change that now but soon, he would make the boy see he could be trusted and that Potter could rely on him.

He did not know what would come of this, he did not know if it could last but he did know that he wanted to protect the boy. It was daunting how much Potter allowed Severus to do. He did not know how he felt about that. When he arrived in his private quarters he got out of his muggles clothes and showered; the hot water eased his stiff shoulders. The chair he had sat in for almost half a day had definitely not been comfortable. There were two Wednesdays left of summer and Severus knew he did not look forward to when his lunches with Potter would come to an end.

* * *

The welcome Harry received when he had gotten back was full of worry filled voices and a sudden rumor between Ron and the twins that Snape had pushed him down a flight of stairs. Harry was quick to explain what had happened or the untruthful version of what had happened. He was quite clumsy after all so he had said he had slipped and fell down some stairs, leaving out the bigger details, ones that would be too embarrassing to explain. Harry definitely did not want Ron or Hermione to know that Harry wanted Snape to not hate him and that he wanted the man to be kind to him. The questions would never end if they found out.

Once the initial shock died down between them all Mrs. Weasley served them breakfast and made Harry go upstairs to get some more sleep. She didn't let Ron do the same as he had gotten up at the crack of dawn with Hermione to wait for Harry to return. Ron had more chores to do and Hermione hung out with Ginny. Harry guessed they did what all girls must do; talk about boys and clothes and whatnot. Harry did fall asleep and he did not wake up until noon. He felt groggy when he woke up and had to take his potion for depression and showered. He dressed and straightened some clothes in his trunk and stood up as he was ready to head downstairs and that was when it happened.

His scar suddenly began to burn; it was a blinding pain that made him lose his balance. He fell to his knees and shut his eyes tightly. The pain was searing, making tears come to his eyes but he was also full of panic; a racing panic that made his heart pound intensely. He knew what was happening but it had been so abrupt that he let the vision in:

_He was looking through the eyes of Voldemort at a chained man cowering on a stoned floor. _

_ "You_ do_ know it you fool!" slithered out the demon's cold, cryptic voice. He was so angry, so full of fury._

_ "No, no, I don't remember!" the man cried out. His face looked beaten and bloody. His eyes were full of tears. "Please, please, I beg of you, I don't remember it!"_

_ "Then let me jog that old memory of yours," he hissed out. "Crucio!"_

But Harry didn't watch the beaten man's body writhe in pain because he blocked the rest out. He barely made it to the bathroom in time before he vomited; coughing and sputtering Harry flushed the contents away. He was shivering violently; his face was burning and sweaty. He couldn't stop the tears from falling. The vision reminded him greatly of what had happened that night in the ministry. Of the fake vision that had been planted into his mind of Sirius. Harry held onto himself tightly as he shook, he was biting his lip so hard he tasted blood.

When the shaking had stopped enough so that he could think straight and wipe the tears from his eyes he wondered what he should do. He wondered what Florean Fortescue could not remember and Harry felt if the man didn't remember it soon he would be dead.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up from his crouched position to see Hermione in the doorway of the restroom. She rushed to the sink and Harry heard running water and then she was by his side with a wash cloth that she pressed to his forehead. It helped the ebbing pain immensely.

"You had a vision, didn't you?" she said in a hushed tone.

Harry nodded and he tried to get a hold of how badly his hands were trembling to sign something to her but he could barely remember how.

"Were you able to block it at all?" she had guessed what he wanted to say.

Harry nodded. Hermione was wiping his face gently.

"Are you ok Harry?" she said after a while and Harry's body had calmed down. He got to his feet slowly, using the bathroom counter to help him. She helped him to the bed and he sat down.

"What's going on?"

Harry looked up hazily to see Ron coming in.

"Harry had a vision," whispered Hermione.

Ron's face grew worry filled and he sat down on Harry's other side.

"You alright mate? He looks really pale, Hermione, maybe we should…"

But Harry shook his head quickly. He didn't want to tell anyone that didn't need to know. He would really only need to tell Dumbledore or Snape and that was it. The shock of it was still strong within him, the memories of Sirius falling through the Veil had been so clear as if sewn wounds had been ripped open.

Ron and Hermione sat by him for what seemed like forever as he was taking in deep breaths and Harry realized what was happening to him. He was having an anxiety attack. The sudden distress of the vision and the pain in his scar and the memories had brought it on and he really didn't know what to do but keep taking in deep breaths; breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Hermione was rubbing circles over his back. It was a while before he was calm enough to sign:

"It was…Fortescue…the ice cream guy…" Harry's hands managed to finger spell "Fortescue". "He was being tortured…for something he didn't remember…and I didn't see any more of it…"

"Oh Harry…" Hermione let out. "It's good that you blocked out the rest…but…do you think you should tell Dumbledore? Fortescue _was_ taken…"

"Mum can fire call him," Ron said.

Harry thought for a moment and then nodded.

* * *

"And that was all you saw, Harry?" Dumbledore said. His head was in the Weasley's fireplace, flickering. Harry was the only one in the living room as Dumbledore had asked to speak to Harry alone. Harry wasn't surprised that Dumbledore knew sign language.

Harry nodded and signed:

"I blocked the rest out; I would have done it sooner but…"

"It is alright Harry," the Headmaster's voice was gentle. "I understand. Are you sure you're ok?"

Harry nodded as he sat on his knees before the fireplace.

"What are you going to do, Professor?" Harry signed.

"Well, I do not think I can do much for Fortescue, we do not know of Voldemort's position," Dumbledore answered. "Harry, you really need to rest and please try not to dwell on this matter."

"Yes sir," Harry signed.

"I will be in touch," Dumbledore said and his head was gone from the fire.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the day in bed, he felt very sick and exhausted. Mrs. Weasley had to give him a fever reducer potion since his temperature had sprung up suddenly during the evening. Ron didn't leave his room as if he feared Harry would have another vision. Harry felt sort of delirious. Ginny had come into the room a few times to see if Harry was doing alright and he had told her not to worry. Ginny was now taking time to learn sign language and Harry thought it was kind of her.

He kept swimming up from sleep and back into it. He had weird dreams. They weren't bad, just strange. He kept seeing Snape in them, just talking but Harry couldn't hear what the man was saying. Sometimes he saw Sirius and that was when he would wake up. He kept forgetting where he was; he couldn't tell if he was in the hospital still or in Ron's room. It really was an unpleasant night.

The week following that wasn't much better. Ginny had been wanting Harry to teach her sign language and he would agree but Ron had come in and started an argument about leaving Harry alone so he could rest and then he started arguing with her about Dean Thomas and admitting he had read one of his letters which made Ginny start screaming about the invasion of privacy then Mrs. Weasley had come up and yelled at the both of them for shouting so loud in the house and all Harry could do was sit there trying not to cover his ears to muffle the argument.

Harry took to helping Mrs. Weasley clean the yard of gnomes and planted some flowers with her and she complemented on how easily he did the work without magic. He had long conversations with Mr. Weasley about muggle objects which cheered him up because Mr. Weasley kept saying things to make him laugh. Mr. Weasley had also taken to learning sign language but Harry still had to write most things in his notepad.

Hermione and Ginny were growing annoyed with Fleur and would complain to Ron and him that she kept talking to them like they were little girls and that she was conceited. Harry had signed that he found her to be quite kind and thoughtful which made them angry with Harry and Ginny didn't talk to him for the rest of the day which hadn't been too bad.

And finally Wednesday morning had come and Harry couldn't have been more grateful though he got up much later than he had last time and showered and dressed in a thin black long sleeve cotton shirt with light blue jeans and his black trainers. He brushed his teeth and gathered his things and headed downstairs accidentally treading on Crookshanks' tail. Ron had gotten up early miraculously to feed the chickens and he was already eating breakfast next to Hermione.

"Now Harry, you be careful today, I don't want to hear you've fallen down a stairwell again," Mrs. Weasley said as her hands were on her hips.

Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he nodded. He ate two pieces of toast with raspberry jam and sausage and eggs. Ron and Hermione were bickering about something but Harry was being distracted by Ginny who was talking quite fast to him. When he finished he drank down a glass of pumpkin juice and then heard the knock on the door. He excused himself and everyone called their goodbyes. He slowed down a bit when he reached the front door and opened it. Snape was standing there with his hands held behind his back. He wore his black overcoat over a white dress shirt and black slacks; his shoes too shiny as always.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Snape said but he gave Harry a look and said: "You have jam on your face."

Harry quickly brought his hand to his cheek wiped the spot away and caught Snape's smirk.

"Ready?" Snape said.

Harry nodded as he tried to push away the embarrassment he felt. He wondered when Snape was going to stop smirking at him.

* * *

"Oh Harry," Ms. Gardiner said as soon as Harry had stepped into her office. The sight of the stairs he had fallen down had made him feel a bit uneasy. "I'm so sorry for what happened. I didn't mean to…I mean…I know Professor Snape isn't the kind of person to…"

Harry shook his head quickly and signed:

"It's fine, don't be sorry."

"Did he…?"

"He apologized," Harry signed. "He didn't mean what he said."

Harry sat down on the black couch. The sunlight from the large windows lit up Ms. Gardiner's light blue robes. She sat in front of him with her clipboard still looking worried.

"Are you ok, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I was feeling a bit tired after what happened and slept a lot but then I felt ok," he signed.

"I knew he had been lying about what he had said as soon as you, well, got hurt," Ms. Gardiner said.

"What do you mean?" Harry signed looking at her with a confused expression. Her red lipstick was shiny and it brought out the deep green in her eyes like a rose stem.

"Well, he looked like he was in shock; that would be the best way I could describe it. He seemed quite scared actually," Ms. Gardiner said. "He looked like he was shaking and he didn't seem to know what was happening."

This news made Harry think. Had Snape really been that worried? It was difficult to believe.

"There was a lot of blood," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry smiled and signed:

"I've always been clumsy."

She smiled at him.

"Well Harry, you've come a long way since your first session," Ms. Gardiner said. "I was really happy the way you could talk about your godfather that way during the group session. Do you think it is getting easier?"

Harry waited for a few seconds before signing in reply:

"Sometimes it's easier to talk about him. But…when I remember him…I find myself not wanting to remember him…I guess it's because it really hurts too much…" Harry looked to the windows at the brilliant light they let in. "I mean…it still looks so real, like it's happening again…I keep thinking that one day I'll be able to remember him without feeling sad…without feeling guilty."

Ms. Gardiner didn't say anything as she was looking at him intently.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry's felt apprehensive.

"Of course…"

"I'm not going to get my voice back anytime soon am I?" Harry had been thinking it over in his head for some time; it had been creeping back up into his thoughts as the days had gone by as if it were a haunting shadow.

Ms. Gardiner didn't reply right away. Instead she stared out the window as he had done.

"My professional opinion would be no. The studies that I've looked over show that those patients recover their certain loss within an average of three weeks. In very few cases the patient never recovered. I've found only a minimal amount of patients who, with therapy, were able to recover within six to eighteen months," Ms. Gardiner explained and Harry listened with a heavy heart. "Harry, if you do not give up I know you will be able to speak again."

Harry nodded and he prayed he wouldn't be a part of the few who had never gotten better.

"Harry, today we are going to try a new technique," she said as she stood up and went over to her desk and from behind it she bent down and picked up an open white box. "We are going to paint today; artwork is another form of communication. This technique is often used with children but has been proven to alleviate stress in adults as well as being a form of interpretation for a patient's feelings. It's similar to dream interpretation." She went over the chalkboard and pushed it to the back of the office to reveal the large white wall behind and with a tap of her wand on the wall a giant blank empty canvas appeared. It covered almost the whole wall.

"Well come on Harry," she smiled at him as she picked up the big box and placed it down on the floor. Harry stood and saw that it was filled with art supplies: large bottles of paint of all colors, brushes of all sizes, foil plates to mix paint, sponges, stencils and other things that Harry didn't know what they were. She flicked her wand again and a large plastic tarp covered the floor before the canvas.

Harry came over to the blank canvas and Ms. Gardiner said:

"Paint anything you'd like, this is my side and that is your side."

"You're going to do this with me?" Harry signed as he smiled.

"Oh yes, I'm quite the artist," she said.

"Prove it then," Harry signed.

"Getting cheeky are we?" she said and she grabbed some bottles of paint.

And that was how the next hour and half went. Harry had never really painted anything in his life before, he wasn't the best artist, in fact he was quite horrible but he found the exercise liberating and fun. He was embarrassed at first but as the minutes past he realized it really was something. The sunlight poured through the room, casting a wonderful light on the canvas and Ms. Gardiner had her small radio playing music and Harry painted many things: An ocean's shore with sand before it, seashells, a black dog (which came out better than he had expected), Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, a fish bowl with a black fish and white fish inside, a bad interpretation of a Ford Anglia, Ron and Hermione (which made him laugh), a slice of Treacle Tart, his Firebolt, a lion (which looked more like Crookshanks) a golden snitch, lilies, his glasses, radish earrings, a Gryffindor tie, the Gryffindor sword, the Sorting Hat, a blue orb, and finally he painted Snape which kept making him laugh. He had painted all these things, quickly experimenting with mixing paint and using different sized brushes and he had to stand on a chair to get to the top of the canvas as did Ms. Gardiner and when he had no room left he realized he had gotten splatters of paint all over his shirt, jeans, shoes and hands.

He had been so focused on his own painting he hadn't really looked at what Ms. Gardiner had been painting. When Harry saw it he could hardly take his eyes off of it. She wasn't lying when she said she could paint. Ms. Gardiner had painted trees, cherry trees with beautiful pink petals. There were so many colors in her painting. The sky looked almost real as the clouds had that gray shadow to them. She had also painted Emily under the trees and the resemblance was amazing.

"I like cherry trees," she said as she saw Harry looking at her painting.

"Well…you're the winner of this contest," Harry signed.

"It's not a contest," she laughed as she still held her palette and brush. "Your collage is wonderful Harry, is that Professor Snape?"

"Yeah," Harry signed and laughed.

"He doesn't smile, does he?"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh but you got paint on your face," Ms. Gardiner said and Harry turned to face her to ask where and he felt the cold bush swipe his cheek.

Harry looked at her with his mouth wide in a smile as she was grinning at him and he took up a brush and got her nose with it, his quick seeker reflexes coming in handy as she had tried to move away. She laughed and they had a battle with their brushes as Harry kept grabbing up more of them and getting her wherever he could and she was ruthless as she got some in his hair, all over his face and his right ear and on his glasses and jeans. He had gotten her hair as well. Her laughter filled the room as Harry was doubled over; trying to mend the stitch in his side he had gotten from laughing so much. It really was liberating, he felt like a child with no worries, he hadn't known he could act this way and he hadn't seen Ms. Gardiner look so care free. She laughed with a certain grace about her, it was charming and for the first time he felt as light as air, just filled with laughter and lost in this moment with her as the light music played in the background.

"Ok, ok, I think that's finished," she laughed. "Look at ourselves; I think Professor Snape's going to be quite angry."

Harry smiled brightly as he helped her put the supplies back in the box and took a long look at the paintings they had done. Maybe he was a little good at drawing after all. He felt light headed as he had laughed so much he could hardly breathe. He was happy that this session hadn't been difficult; since he had had the vision he didn't really know how he could deal with that stress and here was Ms. Gardiner giving him something that took away all the stress he had been feeling.

"Thank you Harry," Ms. Gardiner said when they were done and she had used her wand to make the tarp disappear.

"Thank you," Harry signed.

She had used a spell to clean his glasses and the paint out of his hair. She offered to the clean the rest of the paint on him as well but Harry shook his head and signed:

"I'd think it'll be funny to see Snape's face, I'm sure he can clean the rest of off."

"Well Harry, I'll see you next Wednesday," Ms. Gardiner said after she had cleaned herself free from paint. "Please take care."

"You too," Harry signed and smiled and left the room.

* * *

"_What _do you have all over yourself?" Snape asked as Harry walked over to him and he had gotten many stares from people in the waiting room. His expression was one of surprise mixed with displeasure.

"Paint," Harry signed. "It was an exercise that we did."

"To paint on yourself?" Snape asked as his eyes lowered and he got to his feet.

"No, a canvas," Harry signed and he was trying not to smile.

"Hold still, you cannot go to lunch looking like that," Snape took out his wand and pointed it at Harry and Harry felt his face itch somewhat as the paint on it was it siphoned off. Snape moved his wand down and his clothes became clean again as the paint left them and disappeared.

"I'll be back in a moment, keep yourself clean until then, Potter," Snape said.

Harry sat down and watched Snape walk off. The man was always so serious. Harry wondered if it was possible to ever make Snape smile or laugh. It was wishful thinking.

* * *

"Good afternoon Professor," the woman greeted him as she was standing beside her desk.

The room smelt of the paint that Potter had mentioned and he quickly found the rather large canvas on the wall. He looked over all of what the boy had painted and realized that Potter's paintings had some skill behind them. The boy had painted a collage of many things. He found the painting of himself. It was just his face and he easily recognized it as himself. There was a certain likeness to it but the scowl on his face was over exaggerated. The woman had painted an exceptional portrait but he wasn't impressed by it. His eyes kept looking over Potter's pictures. They weren't too simple; many of them were quite detailed.

"This is all we did today," she said to him and she was smiling. "Harry enjoyed it very much."

"Indeed," Severus replied but his eyes didn't leave the canvas.

"I think I'll leave this up," she said. "All I can really say is that Harry likes many things; these are things he can remember very clearly to paint them like this."

"Well, if that is all," Snape said, finally facing to see her.

"He seemed quite happy when he painted you last," she said and Severus couldn't tell what kind of look she was giving him.

"Good day, Ms. Gardiner," he said. He was pleased to know he only had one of these relays with her left.

"Yes, I'll see you next Wednesday, Professor Snape," the woman sounded too happy.

He took one last look at Potter's painting and left the room quickly.

* * *

Potter got to his feet hastily when he came back to the waiting room.

"Did you like what I painted?" Potter signed when Severus stood before him.

He waited a moment and wondered why the boy had asked him. Perhaps he really just wanted to know.

"They were…quite appealing," Severus replied and he watched the boy smile.

Perhaps he should compliment the boy more often, he thought as they walked out into the bright sun into the busy streets, because the boy's reaction was one that he found to be much to his liking.

* * *

**Sorry this took a while, it was longer than I had anticipated but I hope you enjoyed it and didn't find it tedious. Thank you very much for reading and please review if you have the time. : )**


	16. Chapter 15: Getaway

**Chapter 15: Getaway **

"Hello again," Kim greeted them cheerfully. "I didn't see you two last week."

"Doctor's appointment," Snape said simply and quickly.

Harry smiled softly at the irony. Kim placed the menus down and said:

"Right then, I'll be back in a moment."

The Fish Bowl was rather busy today. Harry guessed it was because the weather was so nice outside that people wanted to go out to eat. Harry wondered if he had gotten a little fitter since he had been eating a lot more than he did at the Dursleys and he had been playing a lot of Quidditch with Ron and running around with the boy. Harry normally didn't care much for his appearance and was often discouraged because of his height but he did want to have some muscle. He was quite quick when it came to running and swimming; he was proud of his reflexes on his broom. He only wished they helped him in normal day situations so he didn't trip while he walked.

Snape seemed to be in a sort of good mood. Harry couldn't tell when it came to the professor. He only recognized when the man was in a foul mood. But Harry was in very high spirits. Today had been a very good day he felt. He and Snape had established a new sort of camaraderie; well at least they no longer hated each other which meant, hopefully, the new school year wouldn't be too hard since he had Potions with Snape and those classes in the past never went well. Somehow though he doubted Snape would be lenient and wouldn't hesitate to give him detention if he deserved it.

"You seem quite giddy, Mr. Potter," Snape said to him.

Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Maybe he was a little bit too excited. He couldn't help it; he really enjoyed being here.

"Sorry," Harry signed. "I guess…this is a lot better than what we were like before."

"Indeed," Snape said and those dark eyes flashed something Harry couldn't recognize.

"Do you think…" Harry began to sign, "it'll last…I mean, when I go back to school?"

"I don't see why not," Snape replied easily. "Don't expect special treatment in my class Potter."

"That's not what I meant," Harry signed quickly.

"Relax Potter…I was merely…_joking_ with you," Snape said.

Harry blinked. He hadn't realized that Snape was kidding. Things were very different than how they used to be. He found himself unsure of how to approach it; he realized he was shy.

"What are you going to have?" Snape asked him.

"You had the salmon last time, I think I'll try that," Harry signed. "With a salad."

"Alright," Snape said.

Harry hesitated and then signed:

"What are you going to get?"

"Perhaps the braised lamb shanks again," Snape replied as he looked over the menu.

Harry found himself smiling as Snape ordered their meal. He watched as Kim smiled and her red headband shined from the light above. Her lips moved with her words and Snape's did as well; the man being a strict gentleman as always. Harry thought he'd better take these moments in since there was only a week and half left of summer and this was to be the second to their last visit at The Fish Bowl. Kim winked at him as she walked away with her small gold pen and black notepad.

Harry tried not to be nervous about returning to Hogwarts but he couldn't push away the uneasiness he felt when he thought about it. He knew he would be in a castle full of people and he would be in an environment full of chatter and he wondered how he was going to make it through. He got so anxious around crowds; he always felt so vulnerable, so defenseless.

"What's troubling you, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked and Harry looked up to see the man's dark pools examining him.

"It's nothing…just…when I do go back; I just hope I won't have…problems around so many people…" Harry signed tensely.

"Well, you need to prepare yourself for it, its drawing ever closer," Snape said. "I think you're overstressing the matter however. Your peers find you quite influential."

"What do you mean?" Harry signed.

"I mean they will be supportive of you."

Harry waited for a moment and then nodded.

"Is it…ok if I ask you something?" Harry signed timidly.

"I suppose," Snape answered but it was with a certain gentleness.

"Did you…did you ever care about what people thought of you…in school?" Harry signed as he tried not to wince.

But Snape merely looked at him and said:

"Not too much," his voice sounded casual to Harry which was strange. "I cared greatly for my studies. However, I did have those certain moments."

Harry thought he shouldn't pry further; he was too scared to pry any further. Even his Gryffindor courage couldn't make him ask questions about Snape's personal life or his past.

Snape's soup had come as well as Harry's salad and their drinks. Harry ate feeling light hearted. He felt that maybe with time Snape would be the one to tell him more about himself. Harry couldn't deny his curiosity over the man but there was really nothing he could do to satisfy it.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, what is your favorite color?"

Harry almost choked on his drink. Did Snape just really ask him that? How odd was this, such a thing to come from Snape.

Harry thought for a moment. He liked lots of colors. He liked the way they could all come together and splash in on each other like the paint had done but if you had put all the colors together the end result didn't come out looking so attractive, rather a gross brown.

"Gray?" Harry signed "Gray" and then the sign for a question.

"You don't know?" Snape asked and smirked. "That's quite like you."

The man looked away and Harry felt a bit offended for some reason. Then Snape's eyes faced him again. It was unusual to have Snape look at him the way he was.

"What's your favorite? Black?" Harry signed and put on a smirk of his own.

Snape raised his eyebrows slightly at Harry's cheek but his eyes turned away again and he was just staring at nothing before he said:

"Blue…"

Harry thought for a moment. He didn't peg Snape to be the kind of person to actually like a color, let alone blue. He really did think the man's favorite color was black since he wore it all the time.

Harry finished his salad as Snape had already finished his soup. Their main courses arrived soon after and Harry tried the salmon with lemon juice squeezed on it and it was very delicious. He once again admired how Snape ate with such refinement. He wondered where Snape had learned it from but something was telling Harry that he hadn't learned it from anyone. Maybe it was his intuition again.

"I was surprised at how fast you learned sign language," Snape said suddenly.

Harry thought it over and realized it wasn't a compliment and Snape was smirking at him. Harry narrowed his eyes and signed:

"I know Dumbledore didn't ask you to learn sign language."

"Oh, really?" Snape's velvet-like voice said.

"Yes," Harry signed. "It was obvious."

Snape didn't reply and then Kim had come back to take away their plates and they ordered their usual desserts: Harry got the treacle tart and Snape got the honey blancmange. When their orders arrived Harry really didn't think he could ever get tired of treacle tarts. He looked at Snape's dessert and the man noticed his staring and said:

"What?"

"Is that good?" Harry signed.

Snape pushed the small dessert plate forward and Harry realized Snape wanted him to try it. He hesitated but took his small dessert spoon and scooped a bit of it gently and brought the spoon to his mouth. It was sweet and Harry wondered just how Snape could like such a sweet dessert. Snape brought his plate back to him and took a bite for himself.

Never could he imagine such a scene but for some reason he didn't feel awkward; he felt a bit timid but he sort of always felt that way around Snape because the man was intimidating.

"Professor Dumbledore informed me you were rather ill after you had the vision," Snape said and Harry was confused for a moment. He had forgotten all about it somehow.

"I was able to block it though…" Harry signed quickly.

"I know," Snape said.

Harry didn't really know if he was allowed to question Snape about it and he decided it was best to leave it alone. If only time would slow down then he wouldn't have to worry about the future and whatever Voldemort was planning but he wouldn't be able to ignore it for long. He was the Chosen One. One day he would have to face him. One day this would all end one way or another.

When they had finished dessert Snape paid with much more money than was necessary and they left, Harry rather reluctantly. When they had Apparated to The Burrow Harry felt the displeasure once more. It wasn't as if he didn't like being with his friends; he really didn't know why but something was telling that Snape didn't really spend time with anyone else. The thought of Snape alone made him feel slightly saddened. Some part of Harry told him that Snape preferred to be alone, that he enjoyed his solitary and he always pictured Snape reading. The man seemed to like to read.

"Mr. Potter," Snape called carefully.

Harry met the man's eyes and signed:

"I'll see you next Wednesday."

"Next Wednesday," Snape said and nodded once. "Do take care."

Harry tried not to hurry to the door as he got further and further away from the man. He couldn't deny that he himself felt lonely when Snape wasn't there.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the day reading over _Advanced Potion-Making _but he found that the words weren't really sinking in. He wasn't concentrating as he kept rereading sentences over and over and finally he retired the book to his trunk and played some Wizards Chess with Ron who still kept beating him despite what Ms. Gardiner taught him.

"You happy then?" Ron asked him as they were lying on the floor with the chess set between them.

"What do you mean?" Harry signed.

"You only got one more of those lunches left with Snape," Ron replied.

Harry waited as he looked over the chess board and then sat up and sat cross-legged.

"Well…I said Snape's been decent…" Harry signed.

"Yeah but he's always a git…"

"He's not a git," Harry signed before he could stop himself.

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"He's…I don't know…he did save my life more than a couple times," Harry signed.

Before Ron could reply Hermione came in the room and said dinner was ready. Harry was glad for the distraction and hurried downstairs to eat with everyone. If he wasn't careful he was going to have to explain why he felt that way about Snape. It was sort of like living a double life, well, if Snape ever came up in conversation.

Over the next few days Harry found himself growing extremely edgy; he kept having bad dreams about being in different classes with so many people surrounding him and he couldn't perform the spells he needed to so his classmates would laugh at him and suddenly he was in the center of them all as they jeered on and on. It was childish but Harry was afraid of the embarrassment. He wondered if his nerves would ever be what they used to be before he lost his voice, before Sirius had died. His hands were always shaking somewhat, they hardly would stay still and he found he couldn't sit still most of the time.

Harry helped Ron with Quidditch as well. They were trying to perfect Ron's keeper abilities and he was getting better. Fred and George came by and went over a few of their newer products with Harry and getting their ears told off from Mrs. Weasley about needing to come over for dinner more often. Harry and Hermione had a discussion again about nonverbal spells and that they would be using them all throughout the year now that they were 6th year students. It didn't help Harry's nerves. Harry tried to pass the time by drawing Hedwig but she kept moving and bit Harry's finger when he scolded her to stay still.

The days dragged on and Harry kept reading the Daily Prophet for any news of Death Eaters. There were a few murders and some more disappearances and Hermione took the paper away from him saying he didn't need the stress. When it was Tuesday night Mr. Weasley built them all a little campfire with a spell and set it aflame and they roasted marshmallows and sat around the fire with blankets drinking Butterbeer. It was nice to be doing something all together as a family. He would miss it some, The Burrow, the therapy sessions, The Fish Bowl, and to have time with Snape without a classroom setting between them.

* * *

The next morning there was splotches of gray clouds in the milky blue sky. Harry awoke not really knowing how he felt. This was to be his last session as well as his last lunch with Snape. He felt as if he was losing something important to him and that something was changing. He wondered just how different he was from the person he used to be and just how much he had grown from the boy whose room used to be the cupboard under the stairs. He showered slowly as if delaying the inevitable would make it easier to deal with. He recalled when this had all began just how much he didn't want to go to therapy or have lunch with Snape and then everything changed. He was suddenly aware of himself as he looked in the mirror at the boy who could not speak. He turned his head slightly from side to side examining his face as if it had changed as well but it didn't look any different.

He dressed in a dark red t-shirt with copper buttons coming up to neckline and put on a pair of jeans. He slipped on his black trainers over white socks and brushed his teeth and combed his short hair. He cleaned his glasses and waited, not really sure if he wanted to go downstairs. He gathered up his courage and pocketed his wand, pen, and notepad and Cloak and headed to the kitchen. He ate very little as Hermione and Ron talked and Mrs. Weasley was saying something about Hogwarts but Harry didn't catch it. It was as if he was a piece that had broken off something and he didn't fit back into it. As the minutes ticked on his trepidation grew and something at the back of his mind kept bothering him. Harry felt like he was giving something up, something he didn't want to give up. He didn't want things to change.

There was the knock on the door and he moved without thinking, walked to it without really hearing everyone saying their goodbyes. His hand rested on the door knob and he knew, he knew once he had opened it that the end of all this would be put into motion. He felt such a sadness bleed into him. But this was his life and he had no other way to go so he turned the knob and opened the door and there was Professor Snape looking down at him wearing a light blue dress shirt with white buttons, his black overcoat, black slacks, and shiny shoes. Why were his shoes always so shiny?

"Mr. Potter?" Snape's voice seemed to come from someplace distant.

Harry nodded softly as the world came back to him and he stepped out into the morning air. They walked side by side to the beginning of the wheat field and Snape's face looked content. The man held out his arm and with a heavy heart Harry took it.

* * *

He was surprised to see what Ms. Gardiner was wearing. She wasn't in her usual fine robes. She was wearing muggle clothes. She had on a pretty green blouse and wore a black pencil skirt and black high heels. Her hair was held back by a small green clip. She had a purse with her, a small brown one with a golden clasp.

"Good morning, Harry," Ms. Gardiner greeted.

"Good morning," Harry signed. "Are you going somewhere?"

She smiled softly at him and said:

"We are going somewhere," Ms. Gardiner said.

"Where?" Harry signed.

"The British Museum," Ms. Gardiner answered.

Harry walked over to her and signed:

"Is that ok? I mean, did you ask…"

"Yes, its fine Harry, I'll put us under the concealment charm as well," she replied and her eyes were bright. "I think you need a little change of scenery, something out of the ordinary."

Harry smiled as he remembered what she had told him in his first session but he still felt apprehensive about the idea.

"It'll be fine," she said as if she realized his hesitancy. "We'll come right back here in two hours, just in time for you to leave."

Harry nodded and it was as if he had been swept up somehow. If he could look back on it he had been feeling anxious and unsure of what the future would hold and he had been scared and probably not thinking straight and he did have that certain reckless streak about him. But something small was telling him not to do this, as if something wrong would happen because of it but if she had permission then it should be fine like she said. He stared at their mural on the giant canvas as they now stood side by side and she held out her hand and Harry took it and held on tightly and they Apparated.

Harry had never been to a museum in his life. He hadn't been to many places at all when he thought about it and he never realized just how many people were caught up in muggle activities, oblivious to his world. The British Museum was an awe inspiring experience though and there were so many people. Groups of children on a school trip, adults of all ages, people in uniform and the place was colossal. Harry was so caught up in the building's ancient make up. The front of it looked like a temple like he had seen in a book years ago in primary school. He knew the Dursleys had visited here a few times on their trips to London but he never got to accompany them.

Before they even went inside Harry admired the giant stoned sculpture of a face; it was a section of a face; the make up the eyes, the nose, and lips. It was very unusual but Harry had never seen anything like it. Once inside the museum everything seemed to go by in big moments of everything that Ms. Gardiner was showing him as she was the leader of their little group. Harry could barely keep up with her detailed explanations. The first thing he really saw was the Rosetta Stone which was a giant piece of a stone with Greek and Egyptian writing on it. Ms. Gardiner explained to him about the hieroglyphics and how the writing described and worshipped the Pharaoh of that time and how it was carved in 196 B.C.

Their next stop after briefly looking at other pieces of art along the walls in the halls by the Stone was the Parthenon sculptures. Harry enjoyed this area very much. It was a wide hall with many sets of sculptures. Harry learned that it was a temple built in dedication to the Greek goddess Athena. It was as if he was having an out of body experience. There was one thing Harry greatly admired; it was how quiet everything and everyone was. And he kept smiling as they hurried off throughout the museums ground floor and Harry learned snippets of things here and there of Japanese art and German art and British in Roman Times, medieval art, early Mesopotamia, ancient Syria, mummies and grave paintings. It was all so much and it was so different to be here learning of muggle things and remembering that when he was little he was a part of this world, of non magical folk and yet these pieces of history, the ancient sculptures and paintings, the history behind them, looking at them so intently, Harry could feel as if there was some magic within them.

And he was having fun just letting Ms. Gardiner lead him by the hand and she told him of so many things and Harry could hardly believe how so much information, so much knowledge, could be a part of one person. No wonder she was a Ravenclaw. He was filled to the brim himself with all the things she told him and he would probably forget most of it but he kept in his mind on the images, the beauty of the shapes in the stone, the movement of it and how striking it was. There was even a gallery of clocks and watches. The courtyard at the center of the museum was amazing. The crisscrossed ceiling let in the sunlight and cast the triangle lined shadows over everything. He forgot himself for a moment, forgot who he was and morphed into a different setting. But before he knew it, as his cheeks were so red from the enjoyment, Ms. Gardiner was buying him a souvenir: a miniature Parthenon panel of the charioteers. He really didn't know why the Parthenon exhibit had such a hold on him. He pocketed the little gift and then Ms. Gardiner was saying:

"Oh dear…We're about fifteen minutes late…"

And it was like Harry had been brought back to reality and he remembered just why he had been worried about coming here. Snape, he knew Snape didn't know about this. He knew someone like Snape would never allow it and he was so confused and Ms. Gardiner had taken them to a quiet hallway where there wasn't a soul in sight and then they Dissaparated. His feet found the office carpeted floor and then he opened his eyes and they widened at the sight that met them.

Harry felt his legs go numb at the sight of Professor Snape standing by Ms. Gardiner's open office door. He had seen them Dissaparate. From the look on the man's face he knew Snape was livid. There was silence. Ms. Gardiner stood by Harry with a calm expression on her face and her mouth opened as if to say something but Snape spoke before she could:

"_Where _did you _go _with the boy?"

"Professor Snape, this was a part of Harry's therapy…" Ms. Gardiner started but Snape stalked forward and panic shot through Harry's body as the scene had reminded him of when Snape had been in his room. Snape's arm lurched out and grabbed Harry's wrist and he was suddenly yanked from Ms. Gardiner's side and pressed against Snape's body. The man smelt of a strong fragrance that might have been cologne and his dress shirt felt soft.

"What were you thinking?! Do you know how serious this situation is?! Potter is not allowed to go beyond these walls if he is not accompanied by me!" Snape was shouting and Harry could feel the reverberations of his voice through his chest. His brain was so stunned; he didn't know what to do. It wasn't her fault, it was his fault, he had agreed to go to the museum even if it had been Ms. Gardiner's idea.

"We went to the British Museum, it's practically five minutes from here, I Apparated us there and we were under the concealment charm the whole time, if I sensed any sort of danger I would have…"

"You're a fool of a woman! Doing such a thing without permission from the headmaster! I don't know how you got this job or _why _Dumbledore would trust you with Potter! You idiot woman, do you even comprehend how much danger you put this boy in?!" Snape grounded out and Harry didn't know what to do but he was suddenly growing angry too because Snape was insulting her; this kind woman who had helped Harry from the very beginning, who had saved Harry from so much misery. He yanked his wrist away from Snape's hold and got away from the man.

Snape didn't seem to notice as he continued his tirade of insults:

"Do _you_ take me for a fool? How dare you go against me! How can you take him away from the only protection he has? How can you be so brainless?! They said you were intelligent!" Snape shouted.

"_Excuse me, _but Professor Dumbledore specifically gave me permission to go about these practices as I saw fit!" Ms. Gardiner snapped and Harry had never heard her shout before. "I handed in a list of my exercises to him before Harry even had his first session and it was approved and signed by him! I haven't any fault in the fact that he never showed you it. I merely thought Harry needed a change-"

"_Don't_ tell me what the boy needs! You know nothing about him!"

Harry was standing there in-between their shouting and he had no idea what he should do and he was trying to breathe. Snape looked so angry, furious as his eyes practically screamed at the woman as well.

"You think you can just understand him because you have a certification that gives you such a right! I've stood by long enough while this boy has to sit through hours of your prodding, attempting to dissect that brain of his, making him relive things he does not wish to relive!"

Harry was trying to understand Snape's reasoning behind his words but it didn't make sense. He wanted to say something, to intervene.

"My _methods_ have helped countless people who have suffered the way Harry has! You can't just make up things in your head to make yourself feel better, to make it easier for you deal with the fact that _you_ couldn't do these things for Harry yourself!"

"ENOUGH!" Snape spat out. "I've had enough of your stupidity, your outrageous overconfidence. Your arrogant ways have done nothing for Potter, if you really could _help_ anyone then this boy would be able to speak by now!"

Harry looked up at Snape with wide eyes as he watched the man glaring daggers into her.

"Get out of my office," Ms. Gardiner said in a low voice as she stood there with her hands tightly bound into fists. Harry looked to see her face. It was no longer angry, but it was worse than anger somehow, it was distrust. Those dark green eyes were looking at Snape with venom and Harry wondered if she was ashamed of herself as well; ashamed that Snape had gotten to her.

Harry wanted to apologize for the man's cruelty but Snape's hand grabbed him by his upper arm and pulled him away, pulled him out of the office, out of the place he had always found peace in, found _himself_ in and Ms. Gardiner was just standing there, not once looking at Harry. Harry couldn't collect himself as Snape dragged him and his feet stumbled down stairs. He didn't know what to do. He felt guilty; he knew he had done something wrong even though Dumbledore had approved of it. He knew if Snape hadn't found out at where they had gone that he would have never have told the man and that was worse than lying, that was keeping the truth from someone who was supposed to be his friend. He'd always done that. He hadn't told Hermione or Ron about Snape and how different he was, he hadn't said a thing about it to them. What was he going to do? Why was he so afraid?

Harry was barely able to perceive his surroundings as Snape kept pulling him on; out of St. Mungo's, across the street, and then suddenly he was standing in the lobby of The Fish Bowl and his face was flushed and he was breathing hard and his head was swimming and the hostess was talking to Professor Snape about something he couldn't comprehend and his eyes found their way to the fish bowl that was on the shelf and what was in it made Harry's heart stop for a split second. The tiny white fish was floating on the surface, unmoving, dead and the tiny black fish was swimming around the bowl oblivious to his lifeless friend. He stared at it for what seemed like ages. Harry felt his arm slip out of Snape's grasp and without really thinking he was running, out the door, pushing it away with panic, running, running passed strangers, knocking into people and he couldn't breathe, he didn't want to be who he was anymore, he just wanted the pain to stop, the ache in his chest to just go away…And a strong hand grabbed him so tightly it was as if he had been bitten and he was whisked away into a spiral of flashing images.

When his feet finally touched solid ground he lost his balance and his body flung to the dirt. He opened his eyes that were full of tears and realized immediately that he was at The Burrow.

"What did you think you were doing, Potter?! Running out into the street like that?!" Snape was shouting at him.

A surge of anger sprung to life inside Harry and he jumped to his feet.

"Why did you say those things to her?" Harry signed so forcefully his hands stung. "How could you say those things to her, you bastard?"

"You dare stick up for her after what could have happened to you because of her ignorance?! You rotten boy! You just thought it would be fine, didn't you?! You _never_ think of the consequences of your actions!"

"Shut up!" Harry mouthed and signed. God how he wished he could shout; could scream his heart out at Snape. His throat was aching as he was turning red in the face, trying to force the words to come out. "She has helped me! She's done more for me than anyone, no one has tried to understand me the way she has so how dare you say those things to her." He felt like an idiot, he wanted to hear his voice so badly, to make these words stab into the man. His eyes were filled with tears and they were spilling down his face and he felt such anger within himself. "You always have to say such hurtful things; you always have to be right."

"I am RIGHT!" Snape shouted. "She hasn't helped you! I have! I've helped you all your _life_, I've kept you SAFE!"

"No!" Harry's fingers slapped so viciously together it hurt. "My mother is the reason I'm safe! Not you! She sacrificed herself for me! That's all everyone ever does for me!" Harry's eyes poured out tears as his face was contorted with the pain and anger he was feeling. "You can't say things like that! I won't let you just say things that aren't true!"

"Let me?" Snape spat and he came forward and grabbed Harry by his wrists forcibly, pulling him roughly. "Who do you think you are? You're _just_ a boy! You know nothing! You don't understand anything!" Snape's eyes were full of fury as the sun was making them look so menacing, almost red. "You have no idea of the things that could happen to you if _one_ mistake is made or have you forgotten just how many people risk their lives to protect you?! And you _allow _yourself to just roam about selfishly practically _baiting_ yourself to the Dark Lord!"

Harry had enough. He pushed Snape away with all of his might, falling back down to the dirt in the process. He got up again sending dust and grain flying and looked at Snape with such a loathing glare.

"You're cruel," Harry signed and he made sure his lips moved exactly to the words. "You'll always be cruel and heartless and you don't understand me. I thought we were friends." And Harry began to shake his head. He was so angry, so angry that Snape had reacted in that way to her. Snape could degrade him all he wanted but he could not do such a thing to someone he cared about. "You're no friend of mine." He turned his back on the man and he was running again, running toward the front door with a pounding heart and eyes full of tears, barely hearing the loud crack that sounded like a clap of thunder.

* * *

**I hope everyone liked this chapter even though it was bit sad but the next chapter is going to be a big one since Harry is going back to Hogwarts so I hope everyone is looking forward to it and what will become of Harry and Snape. **

**On a side note I also hope everyone understand just how much Ms. Gardiner means to Harry; she's like his guide to dealing with everything that is going on. **

**Thank you very much for reading and I hope you can review because I really appreciate them. **


	17. Chapter 16: The Train Ride In

**Note: Some text has been used from Book 7 and Book 6.**

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Train Ride In **

_Severus felt like he was about to destroy just about everything in his office when he arrived in the dark room. He felt such fury waking inside him and his head throbbed with all the thoughts that boiled within his mind. Potter's words, no matter if he couldn't hear them, felt like they had burned wounds into his chest and the boy's expression, mixed with hatred and sorrow and anger all into that face, that reddened face with tears streaming down those cheeks, lips shaking, oh how he couldn't get that face out of his head. He didn't care who had been right or wrong in the argument. But he despised that woman even more now; she had been the reason for all this mess. He had established a growing relation with the boy and now it had been tarnished, broken down before it could barely stand on its own. He never wanted that._

_ What he did want he could not admit to anyone. Yes, Severus wanted to be the one to help Potter. He wanted to be the one to make him better, to fix him. He could always make the boy smile now, he alone could make him happy and yet he was ashamed because when he knew that others did the same as he did, that others could make the boy just as happy, smile just as brightly; it was a crazed thing. It should be ugly, it should be disgusting but he still felt that way. Severus could see it for what it was. He had created it after all; he had started all this even if the boy had been the one to do this to him; had ignited the spark within him. _

_ He had tried to fight off the boundaries of the line. He had gotten too ahead of himself and too worked up over how he felt like he needed to keep the boy safe. He had been truly worried. To imagine the boy falling into the clutches of Death Eaters was almost too much for him to bear and that was saying something. He knew their ways and for such torturous, tainted hands to ever grab the boy; it made his stomach ill. Severus was beside himself; he didn't understand why he acted in such a way, all he had known was that he wanted to insult the woman, to degrade her, to get Potter away from her and her methods because he was tired of the boy's suffering, tired of the boy looking so miserable when he had to recall painful memories. _

_ But Potter had been enraged; using his hands to slash out those words and they did affect him, very much so. Those eyes looked so agonizingly pained. As if the anger had been held in so much for too long that it needed to burst out. And the boy had used all of his strength to push Severus away and he had barely staggered back while Potter fell to the dirt once more. Such a body; he wasn't frail but he was hardly powerful. And somehow, in some way, Severus found this admirable. Potter may have run away but the boy couldn't escape, he couldn't escape him and he would never let such a thing happen again. The boy would come back and he wouldn't be able to hide away, no, he would make the boy face him and they would mend the cracks that had formed between them. He had sworn he would never go back and he would remain true to his word._

* * *

_Severus had expected to enter the Headmaster's office ready to alleviate some of this anger by taking it out on the old fool but he did not expect to see the man slouched over in his chair, barely conscious. Severus immediately sprang into action and he rushed to the man's side. Dumbledore's face was as white as a sheet. There was something wrong with the man's right hand as it dangled over the arm of the chair; three of his fingers looked blackened and burned and he knew instantly what had caused it. He practically jumped to the office's fireplace and traveled by floo to his office and hurried to this personal storage. With nervous hands knocking over bottles he found what he was looking for: a thin cylinder shaped glass bottle filled with golden liquid. With such speed he hurried back to the Headmaster's office and grabbed up an empty goblet and spilled the contents of the thick liquid into it. He set the goblet down and took out his wand swiftly and pointed it at the man's wrist above his right hand. He began to mutter incantations so fast his lips were a blur. _

_ With his left hand as if it was habitual he took up the goblet of the potion and poured it down Dumbledore's throat. Severus continued to speak the incantations as Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered open. It was then that Severus noticed a ring on the man's desk. It had a small stone that was cracked down the middle. The sword of Gryffindor lay directly next to it. He finished the incantation and looked up at the man and seeing that he was conscious said:_

_ "Why, why did you put on that ring? You must have realized it was cursed, why did you touch it?"_

_ Dumbledore's slacked faced formed a slight grimace._

_ "I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…"_

_ "Tempted? Tempted by what?"_

_ The man did not answer. _

_ "Where did you go? That ring contained a curse of extraordinary power," He waited as it was hard to continue, "I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being—" Severus's face looked extremely concerned._

_ Dumbledore raised his blackened, useless hand, and examined it. His eyes were half way open and his expression was somewhat interested. _

_ "Thank you, Severus…you have done well. How long do you think I have?" Dumbledore's voice sounded as if he was merely asking a simple question. _

_ Severus hesitated and then said:_

_ "I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread as it strengthens over time."_

_ Dumbledore closed his eyes slowly and after a long while he opened them. _

_ "Why didn't you tell me of what you've been doing?" Severus said furiously and looked to the ring again. "Did you think that breaking this ring would break the curse?" _

_ "Something like that…I was delirious, no doubt…" Dumbledore said. He straightened himself somewhat in his chair and he had done it with great effort. _

_ "You're still not going to tell me what this means?" Severus hissed out and he got to his feet holding his wand limply in his right hand. Severus was on edge. He had little idea of what to do now that this had happened as well as his row with the boy. _

_ "In due time," Dumbledore said gently. _

_ "You must tell me…You are _dying_ Headmaster," Severus almost whispered as his eyes were shadowed. "Don't you realize what this means?"_

_ "I know exactly what this means…It means I don't have as much time as I expected to carry out what needs to be done," the old wizard replied. _

_ Severus let himself fall into the chair across from Dumbledore's desk. What was to happen now? Why did the old fool do such a thing?_

_ "Have you been summoned at all?" the man asked._

_ "Do not change the subject," Severus snapped. "What exactly were you thinking when you touched that ring? What purpose does it serve to you?"_

_ Dumbledore raised his good hand in polite refusal to discuss the matter further. Severus leered at the man and said forcibly: _

_ "I have not been summoned. I do not know where the Dark Lord resides at the present time and I do not know why he is torturing the parlor man, Fortescue…" Severus waited for a moment. "Whatever he wants to know he is using others to gain that information…The wandmaker, Ollivander…" _

_ "I have a theory why he would need Ollivander," Dumbledore cut in. "However, Fortescue is a different matter. The man knows of much magic, ancient magic, but until Voldemort relinquishes such information to you my guesses remain only guesses."_

_ Severus's jaw clenched._

_ "I know you have your hands full Severus, but I am extremely fortunate to have you…" Dumbledore's tired light blue eyes shimmered. "How was today's session?"_

_ And then the fury suddenly rose again in his body and he shot up from the chair._

_ "You did not tell me the woman was going to take him to some museum!" Severus snapped. "How could you give permission for Potter to leave the hospital?"_

_ "Oh Severus…you must see how essential it is for the boy to be able to speak again, Sophia has helped so many people and she is a very capable young woman," Dumbledore replied. "I'm sorry that I did not tell you, I didn't think you would act in such a way."_

_ "Act in such a way…" Severus repeated hotly. _

_ "What happened?"_

_ Severus glared at the man as he remembered just what had happened. _

_ "You over reacted?" Dumbledore said. _

_ "How could you think it a good idea to let the boy flaunt about like that in such a public place after what happened in Diagon Alley?" _

_ "It was in a muggle area, Severus…and Harry was under careful watch with Sophia."_

_ "And you think the Dark Lord cares for muggles who are in the way of what he wants?"_

_ "I'm sure if Voldemort had planned anything that you would be the first to hear about it," Dumbledore was looking at him skeptically. "Severus…where is this anger really coming from?"_

_ Severus clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles were turning white. _

_ "I never thought I'd see the day…" Dumbledore's voice was a whisper. _

_ "I…" Severus found himself agitated, almost upset._

_ "Harry really does have a hold on you…" He folded his hands together. "This makes matters a bit more straightforward."_

_ And once again Severus was perplexed because of the man's scheming gaze. _

_ "What are you really upset about, Severus?" _

_ "Potter was furious with me…because I…confronted the woman for taking the boy out of the hospital…" Severus tried to speak with a controlled tone but it was useless. "He…practically hates me all over again…"_

_ Severus despised the examining eyes of the Headmaster. _

_ "I am sure if you simply apologize to Harry he will be quick to forgive," Dumbledore replied._

_ "Apologize? For what? For caring about the boy's protection? For trying to _protect_ him?" Severus said harshly. _

_ "Exactly," the man said. "Apologize for your protectiveness; for your jealousy."_

_ "Jealousy?" Severus spat. He was enraged; all matters of the cursed ring forgotten._

_ "Yes…it's quite daunting how annoyed this woman makes you, a woman you hardly know," Dumbledore said. _

_ Severus was somehow speechless as he stood there watching Dumbledore._

_ "Do try to mend things with Harry; he finds solace in you, I know this," the old man said. "I know you will not give up, Severus. Not with something such as this."_

_ Severus found himself looking at the floor and then he nodded. He didn't truly understand exactly what Dumbledore's words meant but he understood enough. Something had been set into motion; Dumbledore was dying and when he no longer stood in the way between Potter and the Dark Lord…Severus could only presume what would happen and he pleaded that the Headmaster knew much more than what he was only enlightening him with. _

_ He had left the man to rest; he himself felt spent. Severus felt as if he were in shock; what had happened to the Headmaster he could never have anticipated, could never have foreseen. Though he wasn't a man to dwell on things and he knew he had to accept that Dumbledore would die. He could not help but look at the future and the feeling of dread would spread through his body. If it was a mistake to get close to the boy, to understand the boy, to want to protect the boy without a reason other than that he desired to, he could not find not even a piece of himself to care for it. He knew he would risk it all; risk everything to keep Potter safe, alive; to keep those eyes innocent, keep them kind._

_Severus sat in his personal quarters by the lit fire drinking a glass of Firewhisky. It would be difficult to wait till the start of term, less than four days, to see the boy again; to make right what needed to be right. He stared at the shining liquid in his glass; lit up by the fire like a small lantern. He could not afford any more mistakes. Even if Potter was kind his trust was not everlasting. He sat there remembering the boy; how he had taken off into the streets, running through the thick crowd and Severus had chased after him, catching up easily. Severus was sure if Potter was to run he would always be the one to chase after him._

* * *

It had been hard to deal with what he had done; and why Snape had let him say such things to him without hitting him after he did not know. He had just lost it and lashed out; he had been so emotional and overpowered by those emotions. He was sick of it all. If he had known all about how this would all turn out when he was 11 he wondered if he would have still been so excited. Harry sat up in bed with his arms wrapped around his legs. He had his glasses off as he stared down at his bare feet. He played with a loose thread at the ends of his jeans. He laid his head down on his knees. He felt so empty, so hopeless. He had been taken off the potion for depression and now he never wanted to get out of bed. Tomorrow they would be going back to Hogwarts and he felt like he would rather go back to the Dursleys.

Harry kept replaying the events of that Wednesday. He had been having so much fun, he had been so overjoyed only to have it ruined; to have it whisked away as if it meant nothing. He could care less if it was all his fault; his nerves and emotions were at the point where he didn't care for anything at the moment. It was like he had climbed a mountain and he had gotten to the top only to have been pushed down to the very bottom. He doubted he had the strength within him to climb back up again. He couldn't help but feel that it had all been for nothing. As if it had never happened.

He remembered running away from Snape, crying, angry, and Hermione had opened the door and as soon as she had seen his face she started to question him but he had ran all the way upstairs and locked himself in Ron's room. Everyone wondered what had happened but he refused to come out of the room, he had stayed till morning just lying in bed. He had cried for a while, silently as he looked out the window. Harry's mind would not let go of the image of the dead fish; the tiny thing, practically only there for show for the restaurant but he had fallen for the image, the picture of the fish bowl with those two fish. They were friends, companions, the only two living things in their world and he doubted that they knew any other way to live; he doubted they knew of anything else but the other's presence. That was why he had liked the place so much, because something was born there out of nothing; a bond, an impossible thing and because of such a thing Harry started to believe that he had a chance, that anything was possible, that he actually had something to his own and he hadn't been able to keep himself from thinking that maybe Snape had felt the same way. He doubted it though.

He hadn't signed to anyone since what had happened with Snape. He managed to write very few messages to Ron and Hermione. He sat at the dinner table not trying to make any kind of conversation with anyone. Mrs. Weasley at first had been very worried and tried to get Harry to talk about it, about what exactly had happened but Harry couldn't tell anyone, they wouldn't understand and he knew that they would find it strange. Harry had always hated Snape but only because Snape had hated him first and treated him in such a way. He wondered if Snape had been kind to him from the very beginning that maybe his trust for the man would be the kind of unwavering trust he had for Ron and Hermione.

If he was sulking, he did not care. Harry only wished that that day had never happened that he had been smart and refused Ms. Gardiner's offer. When would he stop being so reckless? Hadn't what happened to Sirius taught him anything? He should have known better, he should have understood that warning feeling. But now he and Snape, whatever they had shared, it was gone. He had been so angry; he couldn't describe it but just hearing Snape insulting her, it had been too much; if it had been an overreaction he didn't even realize it. He was just blinded by the fury. And he didn't like the face Ms. Gardiner wore, her expression had put something inside him; it was just all too much.

Harry had packed already after washing all of his clothes and folding them neatly into his trunk. He had gathered up all of his notes he had made from his new school books and organized them and put them all away and he had packed his sign language books and everything else he would need. He didn't want to go back; he didn't want to have to deal with all the whispers, the stares, the rumors, the gossip, and the speculation. Yesterday he had thought he might just leave and run away to somewhere far; to the ends of the earth but it had been childish, foolish and he wondered if it was because he was depressed. Where had he gone wrong? Everything had been so _right_. But now, now he was just empty.

There was a knock on the open door and he didn't look as Hermione came in the room.

"Harry?" she called too softly.

Harry didn't move; he felt cold from the evening breeze that came through the window. It was most likely to rain tomorrow. The deep ache in his chest felt like it was going to kill him somehow. How would he be able to make it through the year?

"You have a letter, I think it's from Dumbledore," Hermione said and she placed the envelope on the bed. "We're going to have cake; Mrs. Weasley made it for us since we go back tomorrow…if you'd like to come down…"

Harry remained still.

"Well, we'll save you a slice…" she said and he listened to her footsteps as she left the room.

Harry waited for a moment. Hermione and Ron had asked him too many times what was wrong or what had happened but he never told them. Even Ginny had pestered him as if she would have a different effect on him; he knew she had been disappointed when she didn't. Very slowly he put his glasses back on and took up the letter and opened it and read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ This letter is to inform you that starting September 2__nd__ at 7:00pm you will be taught efficiently on how to use nonverbal spells by Professor Snape. Your lessons will take place Monday through Friday at the same time. It will be under Professor Snape's verdict on when your lessons will be complete. Please do be prompt to attend and take care. _

_Sincerely Yours, _

_Albus Dumbledore _

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

If his eyes could set things aflame surely the letter would have burst into ashes. Of course Snape would be his instructor on how to use nonverbal spells. It was just his luck. The irony was perfect. It would be another fiasco, just like with Occlumency. Harry crumpled the letter and threw it on top of his trunk. Why must he always be thrust into situations he would have steered far away from by his own free will? Maybe he was cursed.

He rubbed the back of his hair. Mrs. Weasley had cut it again as well as Ron's since they would be going back tomorrow morning. Harry thought about what he should do. What was the right thing to do? He was always good at doing the right thing, most of the time. Something inside him wanted Snape to apologize, not to him but to Ms. Gardiner. He did not know if he deserved an apology because he had been keen on keeping the museum trip from Snape. He should apologize. Harry felt something flutter in his chest and his cheeks grew hot. But how? How would he do such a thing? He doubted Snape would care or even listen to him. Something inside of him wanted them to be ok. He wanted Snape to be his friend; he wanted to go back to that day, that perfect day at that beautiful beach. Why? Why did he feel this way? How had he changed so much? Was it because he was mute? Without that one detail how would things have been then? He couldn't answer any of these questions.

It was hopeless. He was hopeless. He didn't stand a chance; the man had probably given up on him by now. He was ready to give up on himself. He felt so tired, so incapable of anything and he didn't want to push people away but he just couldn't tell them what happened. Who would help him now? Who would save him? Because he knew, he just knew that he couldn't save himself this time.

* * *

The morning had come at him like an annoying alarm. Mrs. Weasley was putting together last minute things like forgotten jumpers or cloaks or school shoes and ties. Ginny was taking forever to get ready as was Hermione for some reason. Harry waited impatiently for her to get out of the restroom so he could shower and dress. Ron was packing frantically, having waited till the last minute like always. Harry helped him silently, folding some of his sweaters and grabbing up his books. Finally Hermione had left the restroom and Harry showered and dried off and dressed in a blue shirt that was somewhat tight, jeans and a gray hooded jumper and his gray trainers. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair neatly and cleaned his glasses. He was avoiding the inevitable again. 11 o'clock would arrive and he couldn't stop it. Harry left the restroom as Ron rushed inside and he put Hedwig in her cage and as he stood there, ready to go, he said goodbye to summer in his head, goodbye to everything he had held onto so dearly; his therapy sessions, The Fish Bowl, and the memories of Snape; Snape who had been in his dreams more than a few times since what had happened.

Harry didn't eat anything. He only waited with his trunk and Hedwig with his wand, notepad, pen, and Cloak in his pockets. He waited as everyone was hurrying about. Bill and Fleur were leaving as well; going back to Egypt and Mrs. Weasley looked somewhat tearful and bothered at the same time. A Ministry car would be picking them up. Harry watched it pull up before the wooden fences that surrounded the large yard of The Burrow. Harry was growing nervous; he just hoped he wouldn't have another anxiety attack. When everyone was finally ready to go Fleur hugged Harry goodbye as did Bill who gave him a look as if to encourage him somehow. They had left after saying their farewells to everyone else then Harry, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Ron and Ginny all piled into the Ministry car after packing all of their luggage in the large magicked trunk and headed to King's Cross Station.

No members from the Order met them there. Only two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark muggle suits who moved forward the moment the car stopped, and, flanking the party, marched them into the station without saying a word.

"Quickly now, through the barrier, quickly!" Mrs. Weasley said looking flustered. "Harry had better go first with—" She looked inquiringly at one of the Aurors who nodded mechanically and seized Harry's upper arm and attempted to steer him toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Harry jerked his arm out of the man's hold irritably and pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier. He passed through and soon found himself standing on Platform 9 3/4. Harry stared at the scarlet Hogwarts Express as its steam rose up and over the crowd.

Quicker than he had expected Harry began to feel the tight hold that gripped his chest and he started to take deep breaths. The platform was packed full of Hogwarts students and their well wisher families. Owls screeched in their cages, cats meowed and hissed at other cats, bug eyed first years kept gawking at everything. People were hurrying every which way, handing in luggage and boarding the great train.

Hermione and the Weasleys passed through the barrier quickly after Harry.

"Harry," Hermione called and he turned to her and she looked somewhat apologetic. "Ron and I have got to go to the prefects' carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit…Will you be alright?"

Harry looked away for a moment as he could feel the build up now. He would have to get on that train. He would have to go back but he wanted desperately to get away, get away from all this shouting and laughing and goodbyes.

"Hey mate, I'll skive it off," Ron was saying to him and Hermione looked at him disapprovingly.

Harry shook his head and Mrs. Weasley called to them:

"You only have a few minutes, get on the train, all of you."

Hermione and Ron started off and Harry began to follow.

"Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley called and he quickly faced her. Her eyes were watering again. "It'll be alright, you're a good boy, try not to worry." She looked as if she wanted to say more but all she did was hug him tightly and Harry smelt her perfume and he felt the sudden lump in his throat. Why did he feel so sad? He really just wanted to tell her he wanted to go back to The Burrow with her. They came away and Harry tried to smile at her but it felt wrong on his face, Mr. Weasley helped him load his trunk on the train and he said:

"Look after yourself, Harry."

And the whistle sounded and Harry wished he could say something, say anything to the man that he had saved last year. Everyone was boarding the train and the doors were closing.

"Harry, quickly!" Mrs. Weasley called.

He somehow made his legs move as he stumbled a bit to get on the train and Harry shut the door and the train began to ease its way forward. He saw Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley standing there on the platform, smiling sadly at him and the train was gathering speed and they were waving at him and all Harry could think about as he felt his hand wave back at them was the big black dog that had bounded along the very same train only a year ago.

* * *

He didn't know where to sit as he stood there in the corridor but he found some courage and walked forward pulling his trunk behind him. Harry could already feel them staring. They did it shamelessly; pressing their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a look at him. They whispered to each other and Harry knew they could be conversing about two things; how he was mute or that he was the so called "Chosen One". He felt like he was on stage and everyone was waiting and gawking at him. The tightness in his chest got worse as he was hurrying down the corridor, ignoring Ginny's words to him as she had been standing around a group of her friends. He might have seen Dean Thomas with them, he couldn't tell.

He realized one thing as he was trying not to focus on everyone who was staring at him; there were plenty of girls looking mesmerizingly at him. Harry felt his heart beat faster. Many of them giggled and whispered to their groups and some just kept gaping at him with blushing cheeks.

"Harry!" a familiar voice called to him from further down the corridor.

Harry looked and with such a great relief he saw Neville waving at him from outside his compartment. He almost ran to him and Neville was a bit surprised at the hug he received from Harry. For some reason, Neville felt like his savior. He wore an odd brown and red argyle sweater and jeans. When they went back into the compartment Harry's eyes met those of Luna Lovegood's and he smiled a genuine smile. He remembered what had happened at the end of term. Her long blond hair was pulled behind her with a black band and she wore a dark blue long sleeve shirt with a jean skirt and black tights. She held a copy of the_ Quibbler._

"Hello Harry," she said to him as he sat down across from her and Neville took a seat next to him.

Harry waved at her and took out his notepad and pen.

"That's a nice pen you got there, Harry," Neville said.

Harry wrote down and it was odd to be writing down messages again:

_ It was a birthday present._

"From who?"

Harry hesitated but then wrote down:

_ My therapist, you know, she works at St. Mungo's. _

"I see," Neville said and Harry had expected him to leave it at that but he seemed intrigued:

"How was it?"

Luna sat down next to Neville. Harry figured she wanted to know what they were talking about. Harry wrote down quickly:

_They were really helpful. I don't know if I will continue with them while I'm at school, it's up to Dumbledore. She's really young and really smart; my sessions were actually fun._

"Well that's good to know," Neville smiled.

Harry added:

_And she was a Ravenclaw, like you Luna._

"Whit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," Luna recited and she went back to reading the _Quibbler _and she pulled off something from one the pages: a pair of odd looking colorful glasses.

"Spectrespecs," Luna said as if Harry and Neville would know what they were.

Then the awkward silence began and Harry had anticipated it. It had started to rain and the soft rain drops pattered the windows of their compartment. Harry watched it for a while and then glanced at Neville and Luna and felt apprehensive but he wrote down:

_I had to learn sign language. _

"Sign language?" Neville read.

"I know what it is, it's a way of speaking with your hands," Luna said in her drifting voice. "People who aren't able to hear or talk use it as a way of communication."

"I get it…sort of," Neville said. "Well that's great Harry."

Harry wrote down:

_My therapist knows it. She has a deaf little sister who is a muggle. Hermione and Ron learned it too over the summer._

"Blimey," Neville said and he looked at Harry. "Do you think, well, do you think you could teach me? I mean…"

Harry smiled softly. It was nice to have such good friends.

"I'd like to learn it too," Luna said.

Harry nodded and smiled as his face was flushed and he wrote:

_Do you want to start now? I can teach you how to sign the alphabet._

"Sure!" Neville seemed enthusiastic which surprised Harry. Luna had put down the _Quibbler _and looked ready to start learning.

Harry wrote down:

_These are the five vowels: a, e, i, o, u. They're on your left hand and you touch the tips of your fingers with your index finger using your right hand._

Harry showed them the instructions and was just about to start signing them but a group of girls opened their compartment door and they were whispering and giggling together.

"You ask him!"

"No you!"

"I'll do it!"

The tallest of the group, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes and long wavy black hair looked directly at Harry and said loudly:

"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda Vane," her hands were on her hips. "Why don't you join us in our compartment? We'd really like to have you with us; you don't have to sit with _them_." Her eyes looked over Neville and Luna (who had put on the odd glasses that made her look like a demented multicolored owl).

Harry narrowed his eyes. Oh how it made him so angry when people insulted his friends. He stood up and wrote in big letters:

_These are my best friends. _

Harry held out his notepad. Romilda read the message and she gave Harry a look and said:

"Fine then, but if you change your mind…" and she winked at him and left with the rest of her group. Harry closed the door with more force than he would have liked.

Harry shook his head as he sat back down and wrote:

_Sorry. I don't understand what's going on with everyone, well, besides me being mute and the stuff in the Daily Prophet. _

Neville gave him a look as if he wanted to tell Harry something but then said:

"So, five vowels on your left hand," Neville held up his left hand.

Harry nodded and then began to sign a,e,i,o, and u and Luna and Neville copied him. It didn't take long for them to learn the whole alphabet. By the time Harry had taught them simple words and a couple phrases the food trolley came around and the little squat witch said:

"Anything from the trolley?"

Harry, who spirits had heightened because of Luna and Neville, realized just how hungry he was and he bought some Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and Pixie Puffs. He shared them with Neville and Luna and continued to teach them more words and simple phrases. Pretty soon they were laughing because of the sugar and Harry taught them some slang words and insults.

"I really like learning this," Neville said.

Harry wrote down:

_I have a lot of books in my trunk if you want to borrow them later._

"Brilliant," Neville was smiling.

It was then that Ron and Hermione entered their compartment.

"Harry, think I could have a licorice wand? I'm starving," Ron said as he sat down and Hermione sat down next to him and said hello to Luna and Neville.

Harry passed a few over to Ron along with a Cauldron Cake.

"How were your summers?" Hermione said.

"Oh, the usual; the _Quibbler's _circulation is well up," Luna answered.

"Gran got me a new wand," Neville said and pulled out his wand which was the color of dark wood and thin. "Cherry and unicorn hair; it was the day before the Death Eaters tore up the place, can you believe it?"

"Believe it, we were there!" Ron said as he had a mouth full of licorice.

"Really? What happened?" Neville sounded worried as he sat up straight.

"Harry saved me from Greyback!" and Hermione looked the way she had when Harry had gotten out of the hospital.

"Hermione, don't start crying again," Ron said.

"The werewolf?" Neville said loudly. "Harry…_blimey!_ What happened?"

"We were in Flourish and Blotts and I was getting a book I'd forgotten…!" Hermione's eyes had gone wide and they looked like they might fill with tears any moment.

Ron shook his head and said:

"They exploded the inside of the shop like they did to some others, windows blown out and everything and Harry and Hermione were in there and Tonks had been on guard outside and she got knocked out. Hermione was out cold and Greyback just comes in the shop and Harry tries to fight him off!" Ron said in a hurried voice.

"What did he do?" Neville said.

Harry shook his head quickly because he hadn't really done anything besides throw himself at the Death Eater.

"Well you know, Harry can't really cast spells and Greyback was coming for Hermione, he was practically going to bite her right then and there but Harry lunges at Greyback and tries to get him away from her!" Ron continued.

Harry glared at Ron for his over exaggerated explanation.

"And Tonks comes in just in time and she almost had him but he Apparated."

"I can't believe it, Harry," Neville said in a breathy sort of way and Luna had taken off her glasses and was staring at Harry.

Harry felt the heat rise in his face. Their compartment door opened and it was as if the heightened excitement in the air escaped out of it. Harry met the eyes of none other than Cho Chang. She looked somewhat flustered and all she said was:

"I…just wanted to say hi to Harry…Hi Harry, I hope you had a good summer." She had cut her long hair a few inches and she wore a lilac summer dress that was covered in little white flower patterns. Her small red high heels sort of glistened as Harry was staring at them instead of her.

Harry's head snapped back up and he gave her an awkward smile and waved at her. She hurried away after that, sliding the compartment door closed and an awkward silence spread about the room until:

"Looks like our Harry's become a magnet," Ron said.

"Honestly Ronald," Hermione snapped at him.

"Well that's all I keep hearing," Ron said and then his voice sort of went high as he mimicked: "Oh he's got the most gorgeous _eyes!_ He's so shy! Do you think if I asked him out he'd want to say yes?"

Harry's face flushed entirely as he waved his hands for Ron to stop. Hermione couldn't help but giggle and Neville burst out laughing with Ron. Harry stood up and punched Ron's arm but he didn't stop laughing.

"What's going on?" Harry signed quickly.

"Well it could be because the _Daily Prophet_ keeps printing out that you're "The Chosen One" but honestly I think its cause, well, you know," Ron said as he tilted his head bit.

"Because I can't talk?" Harry signed with a confused expression.

"Yeah, I mean…don't girls have a thing for…when blokes are all…Hermione, help me," Ron said as he turned to her.

Hermione let out a sigh as Neville seemed to want to know the answer as well. Luna had retired to reading her magazine with her glasses on once more.

"What Ron means is some girls find it somewhat attractive when guys…need their help. And on top of that your looks are above average. If you add in what the _Daily Prophet_ has been saying, you being on the Quidditch team, amongst our year Harry you couldn't be more desirable," she had said it so bluntly as if reading it out of a text book and Ron gave her a sort of shocked look.

Harry suddenly felt as if there wasn't enough air in the compartment room. He didn't know how to take what Hermione had said. He never really thought about relationships or girls much; only when it had come to Cho did he ever have a crush and then that had turned out horrible and since so much had happened he hadn't stopped to think about it.

"I don't need help," Harry signed finally in reply as Hermione had started a conversation with Neville.

"We know Harry but don't try to understand the way girls think," Ron said.

The rain kept letting up then starting again as Harry watched it no longer in the mood to be a part of a conversation. They were getting closer and closer to Hogwarts. Hermione had taken over teaching Neville and Luna sign language while Ron listened in as well. His thoughts wondered off for a while until Hermione said:

"We should get changed, we're almost there, we'll see you on the platform Harry," Hermione said and stood up with Ron.

"See ya mate, Neville, Luna," Ron waved at them.

Harry, Neville, and Luna all got out their uniforms and robes from their trunks and hurried to the train's restrooms where there were a few lines. Harry changed quickly, making sure not to miss a loop with his black belt and it felt strange to wear his school shoes again. He had trouble with his tie as he could never remember which knot he was actually good at tying. He managed to get it right as he looked in the small mirror and he straightened it and put on his Gryffindor cardigan and buttoned it. He put on his Gryffindor robe and made sure everything was right and gathered his muggle clothes and headed back to the compartment where he put the clothes and trainers away back in his trunk.

Neville and Luna came back after a few minutes wearing their uniforms as well. It was growing dark out as the lamps had been lit in the train and Harry began to grow very nervous. He really wished he could calm himself down. It wasn't as if he'd have to see Snape today at all; no but he wouldn't have a choice tomorrow. But his hands were trembling softly and he didn't feel ready for this. Harry recalled that back in June he thought he would have had his voice back by now and yet here he was, still mute, still the center of everyone's gossip and he felt more vulnerable than ever. He was going to Hogwarts not really being able to do magic; it was maddening to him as he tried to remember some of the nonverbal basic offensive spells he knew. Harry didn't want to turn up into the Great Hall already a mess of nerves.

Before he knew it, before he could stop to collect his thoughts the Hogwarts Express was pulling into Hogsmeade Station; coming to a slow stop. The rain had ceased and everything looked damp outside. Harry exited the train after handing off his trunk to the luggage coordinator with Neville and Luna. The air outside was cold and he could see his breath. He started to shiver. Harry watched everyone get off the train and they were all chatting about and many girls found Harry and some pointed at him and they would giggle. Harry turned around quickly to see Hagrid directing the first year students as Hermione and Ron helped (Ron sort of just walked and had his hands in his pockets).

"It's cold out tonight," Ron said as he and Hermione came over to them and he was rubbing his hands together now.

They walked over to the carriages and climbed in one. Harry was becoming quite fidgety as his knee kept bobbing up and down. He held his hands together as the Threstral drawn carriages made their way up to the castle. He watched the lanterns as they glowed about in the darkness. Harry was practically counting down the minutes in his head. Harry realized he was holding his breath when he let it out as they went past the castle gates.

"I wonder who Dumbledore got for the new Defense teacher," Neville said.

"Anyone's better than Umbridge, hell, I wouldn't mind someone like Lockhart just so long as it's not Umbridge," Ron replied.

And then the carriages stopped and Harry's eyes looked over the giant front doors of the castle that were open and the warm light from inside spilled out on the damp grounds before it. Harry felt like his heart was going to leap out from his chest as he actually had his right hand over it.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

"Is it too many people?"

Harry nodded. It was crowded as the students made their way into the entrance hall. Being surrounded by people did have a part towards Harry's anxiety as well as the whispers and stares. It was Snape. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes from finding the man at the staff table. As he walked slowly with the crowd of students that were making their way to the Great Hall he quickly put his head down as if it would be some sort of a defense. It wasn't such a good idea as Harry bumped into a tall 7th year girl, smacking his cheek on her shoulder.

"Oh, sorry Harry," she said to him. Harry didn't look up as he kept trying to walk, ignoring the burning under his left eye. Ron had muttered something about too many people as well and Hermione was whispering to the Patil twins about something. There was so much talking and laughter and finally they poured into the Great Hall and Harry was relieved to be away from the crowd. His face was on fire as his heart was practically shaking.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said.

"Oh, is Weasley your escort now, Potter?" called a voice that Harry knew all too well.

Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy without his cronies this time walking behind a group of Slytherins. Harry rolled his eyes as he made his way with Ron and Hermione to the Gryffindor table. And Harry did it. His eyes glanced up to see the staff table and there was Professor Snape staring right at him.

"Ow, Harry!" Ron hissed as Harry had tripped over one of his legs. Ron caught him up by his upper arm and held him steady. "Blimey mate, you alright? Your face is all red."

Harry sat down so fast it was as if the table had some sort of pull on him. Ron sat down next to him and Hermione sat next to Ron. Harry just glared at the empty golden plate before him and he could see the crimson in his cheeks in the plate's reflection. Maybe he should slip his Cloak on so he could just disappear because he felt like such an idiot. All around him students were settling into their seats and everyone was talking up a storm having been away from friends for almost three months. Harry didn't want to look up at the staff table but at the one glance he did get Dumbledore hadn't been in his chair in the center of the table.

"He looks so young."

"He's sort of scary, don't you think?"

"Doesn't he look like he's just glaring at everyone?"

"He's handsome."

Harry picked up these bits of conversation and wondered who they were talking about and he looked to Ron who was staring up at the staff table.

"It's the new Defense teacher," Ron motioned with his head and Harry turned his head slowly but he had to have Snape in his line of vision because the new professor was sitting right next to him.

Harry was surprised at what he saw. The man next to Snape was tall and looked like he was still in his 20s. He had short light brown hair. His bangs shadowed his gray eyes that looked as if he was giving the students below an intent look. They also looked tired. His skin was somewhat light. He wore dark navy blue robes over a gray vest with many black buttons. The white collar of his dress shirt was slightly open. He had a strong jaw. His hands were set on the table and something gleamed on his finger, a ring with a green stone. Harry wondered who this man was and how someone so young could be a Hogwarts teacher.

Harry knew Snape was staring at him; he could almost feel the man's gaze. He wondered what Snape was thinking. The man sat there in his usual school attire with his washed hair which Harry had heard some people remark about. Harry looked away swiftly but noticed that Dumbledore had sat down and there was a sudden hush over the Great Hall.

"Harry, Hagrid's waving at you," Hermione said to him and Harry found the man and waved back as he tried to smile but couldn't.

There was a slight murmur as the first year students came in two single file lines lead by Professor McGonagall and she carried the roll of parchment with the list of their names. Harry found the stool that he had sat on so many years ago. The first years stopped right before the steps leading up to the stool and staff table. Professor McGonagall called for attention and the Sorting Hat began to sing in that same tune but Harry was barely listening. He caught some of it:

_"Oh another year, another year_

_And here I have the same old mission_

_To tell you all where you belong_

_And set you towards your ambition."_

He hardly heard how it described the houses and before he could catch the end the song was over and Professor McGonagall started to call out names and soon the Great Hall was filled with the shouts of house names and cheers and Harry only clapped a few times when his house erupted with it. He felt tired and hungry and panicky. He felt the eyes on him, people were whispering about him even at his table:

"I don't understand how something like that could happen to him…"

"I researched it at home; it's really rare for muggles…"

And the sorting was over and Harry's eyes traveled to the end of the table where he found the group of first years looking wide eyed and their cheeks were rosy. They seemed small to him and he briefly thought as Dumbledore said something, how small had he been on this day five years ago? When Harry looked down at the table and it was filled with food; the aroma of the countless number of dishes made his stomach growl and he served himself some chicken, potatoes, corn, vegetables, and a slice of ham. Ron's mouth was already full to the brim and Hermione was looking at him with a dismayed expression as she neatly cut her ham on her plate.

And once again the Great Hall was filled with chatter and the sound of silverware on plates and goblets clanking. The Hogwarts ghosts began to appear and started their usual conversations. Nearly Headless Nick was talking away with Katie Bell and Parvarti Patil. Harry's eyes traveled up as he looked at the Great Hall's bewitched ceiling and the hundreds of flickering candles. For some reason he just couldn't feel happy about it; he just couldn't feel welcomed like he had so many times before.

"Hiya Harry," someone said and Harry look forward to see Seamus smiling at him.

Harry smiled somewhat and then waved.

"Was your summer okay?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"Neville's told us you learned sign language?"

It was at this point that Harry paid attention as to who sat around him. Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Ginny were all sitting side by side before him and most of what the Gryffindor team had been last year besides the 7th years who had graduated were sitting together next to them.

Harry nodded in reply.

"You think you could teach me too?"

Harry was a bit stunned and all of a sudden the Creevey brothers piped up:

"We'd like to learn too!"

And Parvarti who was next to Hermione:

"Oh teach me too, Harry!" and then Lavender Brown followed her "Me as well, Harry, please?"

What was going on? Harry turned to Ron and he smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders and Hermione was beaming at everyone and said:

"I could give you all lessons, I have plenty of books, I can make duplicates and hand them around."

And everyone seemed happy at this news and started up a conversation with Hermione, the Creevey brothers having to shout somewhat to ask questions. Harry couldn't understand what was happening and he found Neville across from him already teaching Seamus how to sign the alphabet. Did people really want to learn sign language? His fellow Gryffindors, did they really care for such a thing, a muggle language? Harry ate slowly as he thought this over and then he remembered Snape and somehow his thoughts would always lead to the man and he had said that his peers would be supportive of him. Was it true? Did they all want to learn because Harry was mute? Even though they were his friends Harry couldn't comprehend it. A warmness itched at his chest and he really didn't know how to feel about how eager they all sounded and Hermione was explaining so much to them already.

Harry ate and listened to them all but he could still feel Snape watching him; he wondered if the man was glaring daggers into him since he felt the stare so much. He gave in again and looked at the staff table where most of the teachers seemed to be in a happy debate over something and there was Professor Snape with those dark eyes fixed on him. Harry turned away as his heart sped up. What was he to do? He really couldn't tell why the man was staring at him in such a way besides the fact that he was angry with Harry over their row. Moments later the food disappeared and was replaced by desserts of all kinds piled high and Harry's eyes automatically found the Treacle Tarts and he suddenly felt sick. The memories he had shared with Snape were so fresh in his mind, alive there and he couldn't forget how those eyes changed and how they now looked at him with something else inside them that wasn't hate.

Harry settled for a scoop of vanilla ice cream with chocolate drizzle over it but he barely touched it. Ron was talking to him about Quidditch and Katie Bell announced to him that she was the new captain and would let him know when she would schedule try outs and she whispered to Harry that she wouldn't be holding any try outs for the position of Seeker because Harry was obviously the best they had. Harry nodded quickly as his cheeks flushed.

"Harry, do you think I should try out? I mean last year…" Ron started to say but Harry signed:

"Don't be daft, you did great mostly last year, you have to try out, I'm not banned from the team anymore, let's win the cup together this time," Harry signed in reply.

"Yeah, you're right," Ron said and signed a bit clumsily. Ron was always nervous to sign back to Harry and he really didn't need to but Hermione had scolded him that if he didn't sign he would forget how.

"Wow, Harry, your hands move fast," Seamus jeered as Neville said something like, "I told you so."

Harry looked down at his plate again suddenly embarrassed. It was a while before the plates were suddenly clean again and the food was gone. Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter that was all around the Great Hall died down instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore was smiling, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room and Harry's eyes broadened at the sight of Dumbledore's right hand. Three of his fingers looked dead, blackened.

"What happened to his hand?" Hermione let out a small gasp.

The whole room seemed to have noticed as the whispers broke out over the tables. Harry glanced at Snape who was now looking at Dumbledore with narrowed eyes.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now to our new students, welcome, and to our old students, welcome back! Another great year awaits you…Now for some announcements. Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Head of House as usual. And as always, magic is forbidden in the corridors and I must warn that students are not allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest." Dumbledore smiled brighter at them all. "Now, we are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Liam Royle, who will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

The man named Royle didn't stand but merely nodded slightly. Somehow, he looked much more intimidating than Snape who was looking at Professor Royle with a bit of malice. More whispers broke out over the room as everyone stared at the young teacher.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued:

"Now, as everyone in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once again at large and gaining strength."

Harry winced. The sudden silence that fell about the room seemed like it would crack at any moment. And the tension, Harry couldn't believe how it felt to his skin.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer; we are protected in new and more powerful ways. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you. Remember, no student is allowed out of bed after hours. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety and that if you see anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle I advise you to report it to a member of the staff immediately."

Harry listened without really listening as he watched the faces of his fellow students slowly grow more worried as the man's words sunk in.

"On a lighter note," Dumbledore announced after a moment. "This year the Board of Governors has given Hogwarts a special privilege and treat. The night before Christmas break, Hogwarts will host a formal ball for students in years four through seven. Your Head of House will explain the matter in further detail."

And it was as if Dumbledore had never mentioned Voldemort because the Great Hall burst into happy cheers and gossip and Harry looked around at the many girls that instantly began to talk of dresses and dates.

"But now, your beds await, let us therefore say good night, Pip pip!" Dumbledore called to them all.

The sound of scraping benches moving back and laughter surrounded Harry as he got up from the table and the hundreds of students began to make their way to their dormitories. Harry did his best not to look back as Ron and Hermione led the way in front of him and his feet moved about numbly but his head moved without him knowing. Professor Snape wasn't there however as Harry was now looking at his empty seat. He faced forward and prayed that his heart would stop beating so rapidly.

* * *

His fingers felt the softness of his four poster bed as Ron, Neville, and Seamus were all getting ready to turn in. He dressed out of his uniform quickly and put on a white t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms. He got into his bed and Ron told him good night and Harry nodded in return. He took off his glasses and curled up on his side. He shut his eyes tightly but it did not quell the tense feeling he had in his stomach. Harry felt such dread waiting for him tomorrow. He opened his eyes and the moonlight from the window by his bed bled into them. If Snape were around he wouldn't feel this way, if Snape were with him he would surely apologize, if Snape were to look at him right now, without a doubt those dark eyes would steal away his misery.

* * *

**Ok, sorry if this chapter was a little slow paced but the next chapter will be a bit more exciting. I hope everyone found this chapter somewhat enjoyable and if you have time to review please do. Thank you for reading and your support. **

**Also, I apologize for the wait, it was the 4****th**** of July celebration here where I am and I was not at home.**

**Note: The idea for the title of this chapter came from the song "End of an Era" by Oliver Boyd and The Remembralls. **


	18. Chapter 17: I'm Still Here

**Some text has been taken from Book 6**

* * *

**Chapter 17: I'm Still Here**

It was a strange dream, one of the strangest Harry had ever had. He was in a place where the sky above was such a dark blue and the willow wisps of clouds seem to move with the wind as he was looking up at them. And he was standing in a meadow, a meadow filled with the whitest, purest lilies he had ever seen. The yellow stood out like the sun in the sky. There were all around him, filling the place like an ocean and it never ended. He wasn't alone. There was a big black dog running around the place, barking, yelping, and tail wagging viciously; enjoying this world he could roam so freely in. And there was a man; a tall, sturdy man with the blackest eyes and the lightest skin. He wore a black suit, all black and he was staring at Harry as the wind made the dark locks of his hair float gently.

The man took a few steps towards Harry and was now looking down at him and Harry was lost in those black pools that reflected his own confused eyes. He wanted to say something but no words could escape his lips. Harry was distracted suddenly by the black dog that had barked loudly somewhere and the man's hand reached out and touched the side of his face and brought it gently back to face his own. The hand didn't leave him and Harry felt the lukewarm touch.

"I'm here," the man said and his voice was so strong and sure and those velvety words were sent straight into his heart. "I can always be here, if you'd like."

Harry couldn't tell why those words meant so much to him and he couldn't remember who this man was. And here they were together in this world of white flowers wavering in the winds.

Harry's eyes fluttered open as someone was shaking him awake.

"Harry, come on mate, if you want breakfast you have to wake up!" Ron was saying.

Harry rubbed at his eyes as he sat up in bed and found his glasses and put them on. Ron was already in his uniform but his belt wasn't done nor his tie. Harry shot up in bed and wondered just how long he had slept in. He hurried to his trunk and got out his uniform and toiletries and went to the dormitories' restroom where he showered quickly and brushed his teeth and dressed quickly. He hurried back to his bed and put on his school shoes as Ron was ready now and waiting for him. Harry pocketed his wand and notebook and pen and they made their way to the Gryffindor common room where Hermione was leaning up against the couch somewhat reading one of her text books.

"Sleeping in on the first day?" she said to them.

"Good morning to you too," Ron said.

Hermione gave Ron a look and then said:

"You ok Harry?"

Harry nodded; the contents of the dream he had were foggy in his mind. It had been a weird dream, a very weird dream especially because Snape had been in it and had been looking at Harry in such a way that made him shiver. What did the dream mean?

The three climbed out of the portrait hole quickly and hurried to the Great Hall for breakfast, joining the last crowd of students making their way to it as well and Harry hated how pinched his chest felt and it was hard to breathe. Why did this happen every time when he was around a lot of people? Why couldn't he just get used to it again? Harry kept his head down as he heard a few girls behind him whispering things to each other about him. Hermione kept ordering for second years and first years to stop running as she was fulfilling her duties of a Prefect. They got to their table and Harry sat down and noticed that Parvarti had a BSL book by her plate of eggs and toast as well as Lavender Brown.

He turned to Hermione who gave him a smile and simply said:

"I made copies for them."

Harry saw that Neville and Seamus had books too and were reading as they ate their breakfasts.

"Morning, Harry," Seamus said as he looked up from his book. "Hermione gave us these this morning."

"It's easier if you make note cards," Hermione advised them and Neville nodded as he was practicing signing greetings.

Harry sat there really not knowing how to feel. He was nervous, he was embarrassed and he was moved by how they could all want to learn so they could understand him. Harry watched somewhat nauseously as Ron swallowed an entire fried egg whole. He didn't have an appetite; in fact he felt feverish. Even the thought of having some porridge made his stomach queasy. He sat there wishing he could be anyone else but him; wishing he could have stayed in bed and refused to go to his classes today. Oh how he felt so miserable now.

"You're not going to eat?" Ron said after he had swallowed some pumpkin juice.

"I don't really feel well," Harry signed and he tried to sip on some juice.

"You should go see the nurse, Harry," Hermione said as her eyes suddenly looked worry filled.

Harry shook his head and then signed:

"I'll be ok…just…I just want to get today over with…"

Ron and Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"I have…to take nonverbal spell lessons with Snape…" Harry signed without making eye contact with them. "There at seven p.m. Monday through Friday."

"Are you going to tell us what happened? Hermione said she heard Snape shouting at you," Ron said. "You should tell Dumbledore if that git is treating you like that."

Harry shook his head. He would not tell them what had happened; they wouldn't understand and it was because they wouldn't understand that made it so awkward. How had this happened? How had he wanted Snape of all people to be his friend and to enjoy the time they had spent together? He had to do something, he had to or this would drive him insane. Already he was suffering because of how he was feeling.

Hermione and Ron didn't say anymore; it was as if they could feel that Harry really didn't want to continue the conversation. When they were finished with breakfast they waited for Professor McGonagall to make her descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year because Professor McGonagall needed to first confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s. Harry couldn't bring himself to look at the table though; he could feel Snape's eyes again and he grew frustrated. Didn't the man have anything better to do?

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions. She left the table to get her school books and to head to her first period Ancient Runes class. Harry watched as Professor McGonagall conversed with Neville about his schedule and it was a few minutes before she turned her attention to Harry. He noticed she was looking at him a bit sadly.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she said. She was holding a stack of papers on a clipboard. "Are you feeling alright?"

Harry nodded softly.

"Let's see…" she was looking down at the papers. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions, all fine. I must say I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter and am very happy you were able to get that O in Potions," she said to him and she tapped her wand on an empty schedule paper and it was filled with the details of his new classes. "Good luck, Potter." She handed the schedule to him and Ron was next who was cleared for the same classes as Harry besides Potions.

"Look," Ron said as he was staring at his schedule looking happily. "I've only got one class today! Charms right before lunch; I love being a sixth year."

Harry wasn't as happy as he looked at his schedule. He had a free period at the moment and Charms before lunch. After lunch he had double Potions.

_Wonderful…_ Harry thought wretchedly.

They headed back to the common room which was empty despite a handful of 7th years. Harry lied down on the couch as Ron sat on a squishy arm chair and yawned. Harry played with the buttons on his cardigan as his heart kept pounding every time he thought of what was to come today. Why couldn't he get a hold of himself? His hands trembled softly as his head felt hot. He really felt horrible. He sat up slowly and stood.

"What do you fancy doing?" Ron asked.

"I'm going to see Madame Pomfrey…" Harry signed.

"You're still feeling sick?"

Harry nodded.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Harry shook his head no.

"Well, I'll see you when you get back…"

Harry waved at him lazily and exited the portrait hole. He felt dizzy and suddenly tired. His head felt hazy. He wandered to the hospital wing, barely remembering where to go even though he had been there more times than necessary.

"Mr. Potter, what can I help you with?" Madame Pomfrey asked as she had stepped out of her office when Harry had come to the open door. "Oh, you look flushed in the face."

Harry nodded and she led him to a bed where he sat down. He didn't look at the bed he had stayed in the night Sirius had died. He waited as she was already getting a potion for him from her storage and he didn't know if should tell her what he wanted to tell her but he really needed to. Harry got out his notebook and quickly wrote down with a shaking hand:

_I was on a potion for depression that I got from St. Mungo's but was taken off of it a few days ago. Do you have anything for that?_

Harry felt very low when he showed her the message. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. Her eyes followed his written words and she gave him a look and then said:

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but I do not have permission to give those kinds of prescriptions to students…I can talk to Professor Dumbledore about it and he can send in an official request to the hospital." She handed him a fever reducer potion and Harry took it quickly and she left him and went back into her office.

Harry sat there for a moment hating the way he felt. It was as if he could barely get himself to do anything like it had been at the start of summer. And here he was stuck again, barely feeling. He was just a body and was breathing because he had to, to stay alive. He missed the days where he had felt excited, those Wednesdays and they seemed as if they had happened so long ago; they were in a place that Harry couldn't reach, couldn't feel and to remember them just made him unable to breathe. He was ashamed of himself because he should be stronger than this, should be able to overcome this but he couldn't, it seemed like the most impossible thing to him. He was so tired, so filled with desperation. He hated himself for it.

His head felt clearer and his hands felt cold as he left the hospital wing. He wanted to feel like everything had before, like it all mattered, like it had a purpose. He was drowning again, drowning in this dejection. It was unbearable, it was maddening, it was like torture and he looked around at everyone who made their way around the corridors and they seemed to be filled with something Harry just wasn't; they looked alive, happy, interested, they had that look of determined livelihood. And Harry, he just felt blank, empty, bare and it was as if nothing could give him the feeling he wanted so badly. He wanted to smile; he wanted to feel charged and blissful, determined and inspired instead of having this heavy weight on his shoulders. He was always known to be the one to never give up and yet here he was; he had given up. He had failed before he had even started. He was afraid, he couldn't deny it. He felt like a coward; he was hiding away within himself. If only he could back, go back to that night; if he had just stayed…

* * *

Harry waited outside Professor Flitwick's classroom with Ron on the 3rd floor with the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who had passed their O.W.L.s. His backpack was slung lazily over his left shoulder. Hermione came running up to them with her hands loaded with books and her school bag; her face was somewhat gleeful.

"Lots of homework from Ancient Runes?" Ron asked dryly.

"Yes!" Hermione answered happily.

Harry lowered his eyes; how could someone be so anxious to actually do homework? He knew he should start to feel that way too; like he needed to get his work done and study but he just couldn't find it within himself.

In Charms Professor Flitwick taught them all the Aguamenti Charm and had told them that they would soon be learning how to use all their past charms nonverbally and that it would be expected in most of their classes. He had told Harry to start practicing "Aguamenti" non-verbally since he could not speak the incantation. Harry felt like an idiot sitting there as the rest of his classmates were learning how to fill water goblets and bowls full of water that escaped from their wands as if coming from a fountain. Ron was struggling but Hermione seemed to have perfected it like always in her first few tries and Gryffindor was awarded 10 points.

Here was his first class and he sat in his seat barely holding his wand in front of him with his goblet hardly trying. He felt cut off from them, as if he wasn't even there. He couldn't join in their laughter as Ron was sprayed by Lavender Brown with water and they were scolded by Professor Flitwick. He couldn't join in their conversations, or ask questions. He was a joke and people whispered about him and someone, a girl, he had heard her, had said she felt sorry for him. And suddenly he felt angry; it rose up in him and his jaw was clenched and his hands were held tightly into fists. Why had he become this? Why couldn't he just say something? Why? Why couldn't he just say anything, he would give anything, he would do anything. He would plead for it; beg for it, on his hands and knees.

He left the classroom; grabbing up his bag and ignoring Ron's question, whatever it was. He couldn't be in that room anymore. All he felt like he wanted to do in there was throw something, everything because he was so angry, just like last year but this was worse, this anger was taking control of him, eating at him, biting down so hard; he needed to escape, he needed relief but he could do nothing, he could do absolutely nothing like a helpless child, a lost and scared child. God how he wanted to throw himself at something; what was wrong with him?

Moments later of his blind walking he found himself before the black lake. The sky was a deep blue and it reminded him of the dream he had. He couldn't stop himself from wishing he hadn't said those things to Snape but he had insulted someone that had been nothing but kind to him and had helped him so much. But Snape, he had helped him too. It was just so much right now on him. Harry sat down in the grass breathing in the fresh air. He picked up small stones and tossed them into the waters and watched the soft ripples they made. He cleared his mind somehow which made the anger dissipate. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on nothing but somehow his mind kept leading him back to Snape, as if it chased the man, bringing him to memories he didn't want to think about.

He shook his head and lay back on the grass. He was hopeless. Why did this man have such a hold on him? It was like the way he had grabbed Harry's arm and pulled, and in his mind it was like he was still pulling him. It was unnatural, it was strange and it scared him. Laying there he remembered how he had laid in the hot sand on that beach; if he could just be there now, could just feel the ocean water against him and that feeling could live inside him, he could hold it there, and maybe it would fill the hole that existed in his heart.

He didn't care when it was lunch time to go. He wasn't hungry. He was so nervous his hands trembled. He tried to remember what he had learned from his Potions text but it was like someone had erased all of it, like it had vanished. He was horrible at Potions and he would have to go, have to sit there in Snape's class. It was agonizing to think about. And he was lost in agony. He walked with unsteady legs to the Great Hall and Hermione and Ron were there and there were more BSL books out in-between Neville and Seamus and now Dean Thomas was learning as Ginny was there helping him.

"Where have you been, mate? Why did you run out of class like that?" Ron asked and Harry saw that Hermione was trying to stop him from questioning him.

"I needed some air…" Harry signed.

"Our homework is to practice the Aguamenti Charm," Hermione said and she wasn't looking at him.

She stood and put her books away in her bag.

"We best get to Potions or we'll be late. We'll see you at break, Ron," Hermione said and Ron just nodded as he still looked worried.

They walked down the familiar path to the dungeon classroom and Harry literally felt like he might just be sick; it didn't help that his stomach was empty. This was it, here was the inevitable and he did not want to face it. It was like a nightmare and he wanted to run in the opposite direction. They got to the corridor and there were only a few more than a dozen people who had advanced into Snape's N.E.W.T. class. There were six Slytherins including Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, four Ravenclaws, and two Hufflepuffs.

"Wow, Potter, managed to scrape your way into N.E.W.T. Potions," Malfoy's voice made his skin crawl. "Impressive."

Harry worked his face into somewhat of a loathing glare that he gave the blond boy.

"Oh, still not talking eh?"

"Leave him alone," Hermione snapped at the boy.

"First it's escorts, now you have other people having to talk for you," Malfoy said and his voice was as smug as ever. "And so many people worshiping the ground you walk on, must be nice."

And the anger was boiling and it was as if there was a big red target painted on Malfoy's face and he wanted nothing more than to punch the smirk right off it. It would be a perfect way to relieve stress. But before Harry could do anything the classroom door swung open and there was Snape. He took long strides as he walked into the corridor. He seemed to look over them all as no one spoke. Harry made sure to look at the ground as those black eyes swept over them.

"Inside, _now_," he ordered.

And suddenly Hermione's hand came into Harry's own as the group of students made their way into the classroom. The warmth in the hand that fit perfectly into his seemed to calm him and he was amazed at how the girl knew when he needed help. They entered the classroom and the chill reached Harry's bones even through his robe. Hermione let his hand go as they sat at a table second to the front on the left side of the class. Two of the Slytherins sat in front of them. Harry sat on the work bench before his cauldron and waited. He heard the dungeon door close with a heavy slam and Snape's footsteps echoed throughout the classroom as he made his way to the front of the class.

Harry swallowed hard as Snape passed him quickly. The man turned swiftly when he reached his desk, facing them all. The room was quiet. Snape took out his wand and tapped a small stack of papers that were on the desk and they flew around the room, landing before each student.

"This is an exam. You have half an hour. You may begin," was all Snape said and suddenly the room was filled with sounds of everyone grabbing ink bottles and quills out of their bags. Harry hurried with shaking hands as he picked out an ink bottle almost dropping it in the process and a quill. He looked over the exam as his heart beat quickened. Hermione's hand was a blur on her paper as she had already began to fill in answers. Harry realized these questions must be from _Advanced Potion-Making_ because he had never made any of these potions before. The first question asked for him to name the main ingredients in the Draught of the Living Death potion which Harry knew was possibly the first potion listed in the textbook and he could not, for the life of him, remember anything about it. He was nervous, he couldn't think straight. What had happened to wanting to come into Snape's class knowing what he needed to know, having studied and outlined his reading?

Harry was glaring at the paper as he tried to focus. He did not know the ingredients to make Veritaserum and briefly scribbled in his own words what the potion did. He did not know the definition of Golpalott's Third Law or the ingredients of Felix Felicis or its effects on the drinker and he did not know the ingredients in the potion that cures the effects of a Love Potion. Harry felt like it was the end of all things as he held the exam paper which was basically blank just like his mind. He felt like an utter fool. He had studied, had read for hours from the text and here he was not remembering anything. He could have laughed at himself if he didn't feel like he had been lying to Snape.

And Snape was sitting at his desk grading Hermione's paper that she had already turned in. Yes, he hated everything at the moment. Moments later after a few more people turned their papers in including Malfoy, Harry was still sitting and Professor Snape got up from his desk and raised his wand and the remaining papers flew from the other students, all but one. Harry's had not moved and it was then that Snape walked over to Harry's desk and his eyes moved on their own to stare up at those dark orbs. Snape's hand came over Harry's exam paper and without taking his eyes off him he swiped it up and placed it with the rest of the papers. He turned and walked back to his desk and placed the papers on the rest of the pile and turned to face the class once more.

"For the remainder of class your task is to attempt to brew the Draught of the Living Death, the instructions that you will need are on page ten of _Advanced Potion-Making_," Snape announced. "Those of you who do not succeed in making this potion will hand in a fifteen inch essay on how to correctly brew the potion and where you went wrong on your first _endeavor_. Start now."

The classroom was filled with the sounds of cauldrons scraping on workbenches and the sound of scales being brought out as well as potion kits. Harry's shaking hands brought out what he needed and he opened his textbook to page ten and read what ingredients he needed and followed Hermione to the store cupboard to retrieve them. Harry got back to his seat and began to read the steps. For some reason the words on the pages seemed to blur into each other. Frustrated, Harry brought the book closer to his eyes. He then started to chop up valerian roots. His hand was shaking so badly he had to clench his knife to steady it. It was as if his body didn't want to do what he told it to do. It was slow work as there were already cauldrons emitting the bluish steam. The concentration in the room was making Harry dizzy. Hermione's great attentiveness to her potion was practically stabbing at Harry's side. When he had finished chopping up his roots, having earned a cut on his right index finger, he began to read the next step.

His heart was racing as Hermione's potion was already the "smooth, black currant-colored liquid" described in the book for the ideal halfway stage. Harry's face was flushed and he just couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he tried to cut the sopophorous bean. All around him students seemed to be having trouble getting their potions the color it was supposed to be. Hermione was even looking troubled as her potion should be the color of a light shade of lilac but was a deep purple now. And it was happening again, just like when he had the vision, his chest felt like someone was squeezing his heart and he could barely breathe. His right hand let go of his knife and he clenched his shaking hands together to stop them, holding them. Harry tried to push down the feeling that was overtaking him; he didn't want to lose it, not here, not in front of Snape and everyone else.

He couldn't breathe, he could barely see and it was as if he wasn't even there, like he didn't exist and everything that had happened with Professor Snape was just a figment of some dream and he was just a messed up teenager who had gone mute because he watched his godfather die. He was alone and he couldn't reach anyone. It was like being thrown out of a world he had known so well and he wasn't allowed back in. They wouldn't let him back. They were all the same and he was different, he was the only one of his kind and there was no one, no one who could make him feel like he belonged, like he could be saved, could be healed. The room was spinning and he was feeling so disappointed with himself as his breathing was slow and uneven. He felt like he had let Snape down even if the man didn't care, even if he had said such cruel words to him, even if they couldn't go back to those days that they had shared with each other. Why was he thinking this way? Why, why did it matter so much to him what Snape thought! Why did he want Snape to talk to him the way he had done in the hospital?

_Please. _Harry begged in his mind and his soul was so full of desperation and coldness. _I don't want to feel like this anymore._

"Time is up," Snape called to the class and everyone stopped what they were doing and Professor Snape began to walk around the room inspecting everyone's cauldrons. He would say who owed him an essay and who didn't. Malfoy owed him an essay as did two more Slytherins, the two Hufflepuffs, and one Ravenclaw. Snape came to his side of the room and the two Slytherins in front passed and Harry flinched when Snape came to their table and looked over Hermione's potion first.

"You pass, Ms. Granger," Snape said and Hermione looked somewhat taken aback but happy none the less. Then he came to Harry's potion which was a dark color like black licorice. "Mr. Potter, you owe me an essay and I will see you after class."

Harry kept his eyes down as Snape walked away and graded the rest of the students. In a moment everyone had cleaned up and Hermione had spelled Harry's cauldron clean for him and told him she would see him later. Harry felt as if the earth beneath him was quaking as the rest of the class left and he was left there, still holding his hands together which had not stopped trembling and he found himself shivering from the cold dungeon room. He heard Snape walk over to the front of his desk and stand there but the man didn't say anything. Harry didn't know what to do and he kept his head down as if bowing as he sat there. It was deadly quiet.

"Are you going to grace me with your attention Mr. Potter or do I have to force you to look at me?" Snape's words were heavy.

Harry couldn't do it. He couldn't face those eyes, not like this, not while he felt like such a coward. And then a strong hand came under his chin and forced his head up and Harry winced at the hold and his eyes looked all over Snape's face that he couldn't read. The man didn't look angry, no, Harry didn't know how he looked.

"Come now, Mr. Potter, I didn't think your Gryffindor courage could ever falter," Snape's words slithered out. "However, after such a _pathetic _display in my class I don't blame your humiliation."

Something broke inside of Harry, he didn't know what it was but he could hear it snapping apart and he was gone. He couldn't feel himself anymore but he knew what his body was doing. He could see his hand slap Snape's own away from him, he knew he was gritting his teeth so hard it hurt; he knew he was on his feet and was grabbing at things on the desk and throwing them with such force all over the room. It was like watching himself through his own eyes but not understanding why he was doing these things. And all the while Snape stood there as if nothing was happening, as if Harry wasn't chucking beakers that lay on the desks or cauldrons or his exam papers or ink bottles or books; just destroying the kept classroom in a fit of a tyrant rage. Harry was lost, as if he was in those crowds in his dreams where he was looking for his parents, looking for Sirius but never finding them. And after he had thrown what he could as his hands were aching and his eyes were red and brimming with tears and his face was sweaty and flushed he paced around the room in a desperate madness, gripping at his hair, at his arms, throwing off his robe somehow, kicking over Snape's chair, ripping his glasses off and throwing them, rubbing viciously as his face, clenching his hands together, and he wanted so badly, so desperately to hurt something, to tear it to pieces, to make it feel exactly what he was feeling, to rip it to shreds, to break it, to pummel it until it was nothing, nothing just like him, to make it feel the frantic agony that he felt, that was possessing him, and he was running to the door and he yanked at the handle but the door was locked and he pulled with all his might and he wanted to scream, to scream so loudly as he bowed his head, his fingers red from pulling so hard at the door and his throat muscles stung again as he was trying to force himself to scream but it was so useless and his couldn't breathe, could barely see and his fists banged at the door, hitting it, palms slamming against it as if the door could feel pain and he hated it, hated it, hated everything and he fell to his knees, gasping, choking as he cried, wept so dearly and his hands were in fists, still against the door. He was clenching his jaw so hard he bit the inside of his cheek but the pain was nothing to him, his bleeding hands didn't exist, he didn't exist because they couldn't see him, no one could see him, no one knew what he held inside of him, what lived inside of him for so many days but those days felt like an eternity. He didn't want to sit in a room full of people and feel like he was invisible, he didn't want to be unable to be with them; he wanted them to understand, to make him feel like a normal person.

The sound of footsteps filled the room and he knew Snape was behind him. Harry slowly got to his feet as his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. His hands were still on the door and he did not, could not turn around as the tears fell down his cheeks. He was a wreck, unstable, a loser and a failure. How was he supposed to defeat Voldemort this way?

"Turn around, Mr. Potter," Snape's voice filled his ears.

Harry slowly shook his head. He couldn't let Snape see him, see his face like this again. And then strong hands were grabbing at him; gripping his upper arm and forcing him to turn around and Harry fought with those hands, trying to pull away, trying to strike at them and the shuffle of feet filled the empty classroom and Harry's eyes were shut tight and before he knew it one of Snape's hands pressed against his back and the other fell gently on the back of his head and he was brought against the man, the side of his face was pressed against the man's chest and the sound of Snape's heart filled him, made a shiver go up his back. His own heart was crashing in his chest and the feeling in his legs disappeared and he dropped slowly to his knees and Snape followed him and the man was on his knees as well. Harry didn't know what was happening but it was as if all the anger had left him, vanished, and the pain within him, the ache, decreased so rapidly and the tears would not stop and his hands gripped at Snape's robes as the tears wracked him, his shoulders shaking, his forehead pressed against Snape's chest as he cried shamelessly.

"It's alright," Snape was saying and his voice was kind, like it had been before. "Just let it go."

_I'm sorry. _Those words kept repeating themselves in Harry's mind, over and over, and he wanted to say it so badly.

"I apologize," Snape said and those words were so careful, so true. "I apologize for making you feel this way. She was right, I wanted to be the one to help you, to do the things that she could but I could not…And I was a fool because I thought you didn't need her when it was clear that you did."

Harry's sobs had stopped but he was still shaking. He had listened to Snape's words and he blinked slowly and he could breathe now, and he took in a deep breath and slowly brought himself away from the man and though his vision was blurred he could see the man's eyes.

"I'm sorry…" Harry's hands slowly signed. "For saying those things to you…You do help me, when I'm with you…"

"You don't need to apologize and you don't need to explain it to me," Snape said gently.

They stayed like that for a moment; on their knees, Snape's hands at his sides and Harry was holding his own hands together. Then Snape helped him up and helped him sit down.

"I can clean up your classroom," Harry signed as he wanted to stand.

"It's fine, just wait," Snape said and he walked to his desk and picked up Harry's cloak and his glasses which somehow had not broken. He walked back to Harry and Harry felt embarrassed as Snape's hands straightened his tie and collar and cardigan and he placed Harry's glasses on his face and handed Harry his cloak. Snape took something out of his robe pocket; it was a small vial of liquid and he opened it and put it in Harry's hands.

"Calming Draught, take it," Snape said.

Harry waited and then drank down the potion and almost immediately a peace had fallen over him and he felt drowsy. Snape took the small glass bottle out of his hands.

Harry signed:

"Why did you…let me…?"

"Because you needed to," Snape answered before he could finish. "Just because summer is over, Mr. Potter, that doesn't mean I'm going to stop helping you, we are friends, are we not?"

And a small smile came upon Harry's face and he nodded slowly but suddenly he was signing:

"I studied, I swear, I can remember the ingredients now…"

"It's fine, Mr. Potter," Snape interrupted once more. "It was difficult watching you struggle…" Snape paused for a moment. "You do not owe me that essay."

Harry began to shake his head but Snape said:

"If you do it I will not accept it." And those hands took his own and he was examining the bruising and cuts on the knuckles. "Come with me, to my office."

Harry stood up and found the strength to walk with the man to the door that led to his office that was next to the classroom. It was as he had seen it many times before, nothing had changed. He sat Harry down in the chair in front of his large black desk and left him there. A few minutes passed and Snape came back with a bowl and he set it down before Harry. There was a clear liquid inside. Harry rolled up his sleeves and he placed his hands into the bowl and they stung at first but then the liquid soothed the pain.

"You will keep your hands in this for ten minutes," Snape instructed. "I'll be back shortly."

He left Harry and he assumed the man was going to take care of the mess that Harry had made in the Potions classroom. Snape came back with the stack of exam papers and sat down in his office chair. Harry didn't know what to do as the man sat there grading the papers.

"Do you feel better?" Snape asked as he placed a paper aside.

Harry nodded slowly.

"You will get some sleep and eat before you come back here for our lesson," Snape said and his eyes were reading quickly over someone's paper and making notes here and there and crossing out whole sentences.

Harry nodded. His thoughts were wandering. He couldn't really understand why Snape had embraced him like that but once again, it wasn't awkward and he wasn't revolted by it. He couldn't describe how he had felt; all he really knew was that it had taken away the pain at last. He was grateful that it was over with. He had been so worried, so nervous, dreading it so much and now it was over but what was to happen now? Was it weird for a teacher and student to be friends? He didn't know but Snape had agreed and here they were at school and Snape had been looking at him the way he had when they were sitting in The Fish Bowl.

Snape got up from his chair and walked over to Harry and took his hands out of the bowl and examined them. The cuts and bruising were completely gone and Harry watched as Snape's thumb glided over the scarred words: "I must not tell lies." He let Harry's hands go.

"Thank you," Harry signed.

"Do get some rest Mr. Potter," Snape said. "I will be here at seven to begin your lessons."

Harry nodded and he got to his feet. The Calming Draught had made him feel warm and quite sleepy. He turned to go but he hesitated and then turned to face Snape again and signed:

"You really do help me…Thank you for being kind to me." And once again he turned so Snape wouldn't see the heat that had risen to his face and he hurried to the classroom which was now as tidy as it had been when class had started and he grabbed his bag and hurried out the now unlocked door into the corridor.

* * *

"Harry, what happened to you?" Ron asked as he had entered through the portrait hole. "Hermione said you had to stay after class in Potions, what did that git say?"

"He's not a git," Harry signed quickly.

"Well what happened?"

"He…Snape was just helping me with Potions," Harry signed and it was a bit easy to make up the lie.

"Snape was helping you with Potions?" Ron said with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah…there aren't many of us in the class and I suppose Dumbledore probably said something to him…Anyway, he was just tutoring me a little bit," Harry signed. His eyes were growing heavy.

"Right…" Ron said.

"I'm going to go lie down, will you wake me up for dinner?" he signed.

"Sure mate," Ron answered. Harry wondered if he really believed his lie.

He hurried up to his dorm and toed of his shoes. He took his glasses off and curled up on his side on his bed. Something in his head was making him ask how did it feel to be hugged by Snape? It was really more than a hug, it was an embrace and the man had held Harry there for some time. Harry closed his eyes and he told himself it wasn't right to dwell on something like that but he really couldn't stop himself from thinking about it.

* * *

Harry ate happily at the Gryffindor table when dinner was served. He had woken up from his sleep feeling much better. Neville and Seamus had even signed a few things to him at the table and Harry thanked them for taking time to learn sign language and Parvarti signed a few things to him as well. Hermione however wasn't in a very good mood as she watched Ron teaching Lavender Brown how to sign and the girl kept giggling. Hermione practically stabbed her food with her fork before she ate it. Harry filled himself on roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables and a few biscuits. He felt good, he felt warm, he felt like he wanted to feel only hours ago.

"So, Snape helped you with your potion?" Hermione asked quickly, still looking annoyed with Ron.

"Yeah, he just helped me with the potion," Harry signed and then took a long drink from his goblet of pumpkin juice and then he got up from the table. "I have to go; I have my lesson with him."

"Well, I hope it goes well," Hermione said quickly.

Harry hurried up to the Gryffindor common room and to his dormitory, being let in by the students who were already making their way back from dinner. He brushed his teeth quickly and splashed water on his face. He needed to focus, he needed to pay attention and concentrate with Snape; he didn't want to let the man down, he was hopeful and hurried off to the dungeons. He stopped in front of Snape's office door and knocked. The door opened and Snape stood aside to let Harry in.

"Good evening," Snape said. "I trust you were able to sleep?"

Harry nodded once.

"Right then, for your first nonverbal spell you will be trying to perform a Shield Charm," Snape instructed as he walked over to his desk. "Nonverbal spells aren't as difficult as you might think, yes it does take an immense amount of concentration but the one real thing a nonverbal spell needs is _confidence_. And, as with any spell, if you practice it enough it will get much easier as time goes by. Now, nonverbal spells aren't as strong as ones spoken directly but they do have their advantage; your opponent will not be able to predict what spell you are going to use. That is why through these lessons we will be working on your reflexes as well if you are ever put into such a situation. You must be prepared Mr. Potter, prepared to protect yourself. As of now, you are unable to do so."

Harry nodded.

"Now performing a spell without speaking is much like how you would execute a spell verbally," he continued. "You must first know exactly the spell you wish to cast and focus direly on that one spell, see it clearly in your head. You know what a Shield Charm looks like, then believe in it. Have confidence and do not let other thoughts interfere with your concentration. Since you have been practicing Occlumency I would like you to take a moment to clear your head Mr. Potter, relax." Snape walked over to him as Harry was standing up straight, taking in his every word. "Close your eyes and think of nothing."

It was very different to have Professor Snape teach him something in this way. He half expected, out of habit, to have the man already ordering him to do a nonverbal spell right away. But Snape's voice was gentle, slow, not at all forceful or bitter. Harry had closed his eyes and let himself be free of thought; it was easy because Snape made him feel so comfortable even if the dungeon office was cold. Harry waited as he barely heard Snape walking away from him.

"Open your eyes," Snape ordered and Harry did so. "Now, take out your wand and I want you to think as clearly as you possibly can the incantation _P__rotego. _You must mean it, you must concentrate. You need to see it as if it was happening, do you understand?"

Harry nodded and he took his wand out from his robe pocket and held it out. He remembered what it was like to cast the Shield Charm, how it looked and he concentrated and in his mind he said clearly: _Protego! _

And nothing happened.

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter," Snape said and Harry thought the man could tell he had been disappointed at not being successful. "It takes time, just concentrate, have confidence, I know you can do this, if you can cast a full body Patronus Charm as a third year you can do this."

It was strange having Snape encourage him instead of getting frustrated with him. Harry knew he could do this, he wouldn't fail, so he believed more than before, more than anything because it was important, it was crucial because if he never got his voice back, if he fell into that small percentage of people who never recovered then he needed to learn this, there was no other option and perhaps it was thinking like that, thinking as if his life was at stake which it most certainly was that when he tried to cast _Protego _again the shimmering blue Shield Charm burst from tip of his wand; it wasn't small, it was strong and curved over his whole body. Harry tried to stop himself from smiling but couldn't. It felt as if he had finally accomplished something after so long.

"Let's test it shall we?" Snape said as he took out his own wand. "Brace yourself."

Harry did so as he concentrated on the Shield Charm.

"_Stupefy_," Snape said and the red light shot from Snape's wand and hit Harry's shield and bounced off.

Snape lowered his wand.

"You can put it down now, Mr. Potter," Snape ordered.

Harry did so and his head felt a little lighter after the charm disappeared. Snape waited a moment as he was just staring at Harry and then finally he said:

"You did well. I want you to practice it a few more times and then tonight's lesson will be finished."

Harry nodded and did as he was told. He felt a bit nervous as Snape was watching him perform the spell over and over and being successful at each charm.

"Would you like to have some tea?" Snape asked him when Harry was done.

Harry nodded softly.

"Sit," Snape said as he gestured to the chair before his desk. Harry sat down and Snape left the room and moments later came back with a tray with two steaming tea cups and a small plate of thin cookies on top of it. Snape placed the tray down lightly in-between Harry's chair and his and then sat down across from him.

"I'm sorry you had to feel so distressed all day," Snape said gently. "You're supposed to be avoiding stress."

Harry nodded and waited but then signed:

"I just felt so angry…I can't talk to anyone and I get very nervous around crowds."

"I understand," Snape said and then he picked up the white tea cup and Harry took his own. "Mr. Potter, I want you to know that I am always here for you to talk to."

Harry had been about to take a sip from the cup but then those words reminded him of the dream and he felt embarrassed but he nodded slowly.

"I know I'm not easy to talk to," Snape took a sip of his tea.

Harry drank from his cup and set it down with much care and then signed:

"You are easy to talk to…I mean, when we're not fighting…"

And then it happened. It was barely a second but the ends of Snape's mouth curved slightly and it wasn't a smirk but the tiniest of smiles and then it was gone and set back into a thin line but Harry smiled and Snape said:

"Indeed…"

Harry took up his small cup again and drank lightly.

"I suppose I deserved to have my classroom plagued by your…little outburst," Snape said.

Harry didn't want to laugh but his shoulders moved up slightly as a breath escaped from his lips. He drank the rest of his tea which had been sweet and had smelled nice. He placed the cup down softly.

"Whenever you feel that way again, Mr. Potter, just come to me," Snape said and he set his cup down with one hand. No matter what Snape did he always had that refinement about it and Harry had begun to admire it. Harry didn't really know what to feel as Snape had said this but he signed:

"Thank you…But honestly…I feel a lot better just knowing you wanted to still be here for…" and Harry couldn't help the heat that rose in his face and he finished: "...me…"

"You're kind, Mr. Potter," was all Snape said after a moment. "As much as I enjoy your company…you should get back to your dorm, I think you need to catch up on some sleep."

Harry nodded and he stood but waited a bit and then even though he felt like he shouldn't but he had to he signed:

"Professor…can you do something for me?" His hands trembled.

"What is it?" Snape's dark eyes were looking so intently into his own.

"Can you please…apologize to Ms. Gardiner?" Harry signed and his shoulders were tense and he waited for Snape to yell at him but it didn't happen and in a simple, gentle voice the man said:

"If you wish it of me, I will."

It was strange to hear those words that made Harry's heart beat faster but he nodded slowly and signed:

"Thank you…for everything…"

"Good night, Mr. Potter," Snape said and the man's face looked so calm and controlled but it wasn't a mask, it was the truth and Harry couldn't help as he left the man's office but think that Snape didn't show his real face to many people at all. And for some reason, it scared him to allow himself this, but for some reason that fact alone made him feel very content.

* * *

**I really hope everyone liked this chapter and please review if you have the time. Sorry it took a little while. Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing and the next chapter is in progress. I introduce Professor Royle and his teaching methods in the next chapter. **


	19. Chapter 18: The Hunt

**This chapter contains Severus's POV and Harry's POV.**

**Some text is used from Book 6.**

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Hunt**

_"When were you going to tell me you hired the brother of a Death Eater to teach at this school?" Severus asked and his voice was cold and strict. _

_ "It never came up in conversation," Dumbledore answered simply. _

_ Severus was in the man's office and it was the morning of September 1__st__. _

_ "Oh please, what made you think that Royle would be such a good candidate for the position? Once again you have failed to inform me of things that should be labeled as _crucial information_," Severus snapped and sat up straighter in his chair. _

_ "Severus, you know I trust Royle for the same reasons I trust you," Dumbledore's voice sounded serious now._

_ Severus took a moment before he replied:_

_ "This is different."_

_ "No, it is the same. And frankly, no one else wanted the job with what rumors are going about that the position is jinxed. Royle agreed so I hired him. He is more than capable to teach our students," the Headmaster said as his hands were folded neatly together. _

_ "He's an idiot," Severus said forcefully. _

_ "You are very hard to deal with when you are in a bad mood, luckily Harry will be here tonight," Dumbledore said._

_ Severus narrowed his eyes and was glaring at the old wizard._

_ "What are you planning to do with the boy?" Severus asked, breaking the silence. _

_ "I believe that will be between Harry and I," Dumbledore answered. _

_ "The boy will tell me…if I ask him," Severus said. _

_ Dumbledore was silent and then he smiled gently._

_ "Be kind to him, Severus…Coming back here will be a great challenge for Harry."_

_ "I know what I'm doing," Severus snapped. _

_ "I do not doubt you, Severus…but I know your temper," Dumbledore said. _

_ Severus continued to glare at the man and then said rather sarcastically:_

_ "I'll be going now, if you need to tell me _anything_ don't hesitate to summon me."_

_ It had been a difficult day to say none the least. The staff meeting had gone by quickly and he did not linger to congratulate the new Defense professor. Having discovered who the man was he could not believe the old fool had made a decision like this. He spent the rest of the day in his personal chambers trying to read and find some sort of peace of mind but it was useless. He would have to confront Potter soon and he hadn't the slightest idea of how to do so. He wanted to get it over with, he felt like he had waited long enough and had almost decided to talk to the boy after the start of term feast was over but it would seem odd to just pluck the boy out of the crowd and make him have a conversation with him._

_ And that night had been a long one. He had made himself obvious to the boy though he had himself to blame. It was a challenge, a great challenge to not find the boy amongst the mass of students. The boy was short but he had a slight advantage since he was seated at the high staff table. Severus had finally spotted the boy and Potter had looked almost ill, such a face that said he would rather be anywhere but here. It was amusing to watch Potter look up at him with such eyes that had gone wide because Severus had been looking right at him and then trip right in the middle of the Great Hall over the Weasley boy. Severus didn't know why the boy's clumsiness always amused him. _

_ It was bothering to have Royle be in his presence. The man smelt of something like fruit, apples perhaps which was annoying his nose. The new professor looked as if he just despised being in this place as well as he did nothing but glare down at the students. He was young and most likely arrogant and immature, haven't yet really grown into adulthood. Royle did not speak once at the table. Severus had barely eaten any dinner as all he could really do was watch Potter; it wa__s very different than last year when he had sat in the exact same chair and the boy had sat in the exact same spot but now instead of hating the boy all he could think about was that he needed to talk to him. Potter looked jittery and timid; such eyes behind those glasses looked worried and sorrow filled. Perhaps the boy was dreading having to confront Severus but he really didn't have anything to worry about, he was hardly angry at the boy._

_ And Potter had many of his fellow Gryffindors talk to him and he could tell that a few would most likely want to learn sign language, it was quite obvious. Severus had honestly seen the boy's face go red too many times that night. It was a sight to see the color flourish in those cheeks; it was almost too natural, sort of perfect…Severus really needed to focus as Dumbledore was giving his speech now and the whole school had discovered the man's ailment and the whispers had begun; it was quite unprofessional of the man not to have done something to cover the curse but Severus listened to his words and at the very end had grown annoyed at the news of there being another ball that the school would have. Two years ago that Yule Ball had been a mixture of loud, banging music, unsupervised frivolity and misbehaving teenagers. Severus left quickly after the man was finished, his mind was tired and he would have to deal with dunderheaded 1__st__ Years in the morning which he never looked forward to even though it meant he could make a daunting first appearance to the little whelps._

_ But the morning had come sooner than he thought it would and teaching the brats had been a blur; he might have scared them a bit too much but he really couldn't help his terrible mood. Potter had looked absolutely sick at breakfast this morning and it was almost painful to know that he was partially the reason for it. The rest being that the boy was perhaps experiencing the feeling of being exiled like the Headmaster had explained to him. It bothered him that Potter was letting it all affect him in such a dire way. He managed however to make it through his morning classes with only a slight head ache and after lunch which Potter had not been present at making his own worry grow inside of him he waited in his classroom for his 6__th__ Years to arrive. Severus had heard them all gather outside of his class and then the Malfoy boy began taunting Potter. He knew he had once favored the boy because he was in his House but he did not admire the boy's bullying or antics and now just the very idea of someone insulting Potter made an unexpected anger reside in him; the boy had been through enough already. So he put an end to it by going out to gather them all in and found Potter acting diffidently as he had examined the lot of them. _

_ Yes, Potter was a bundle of nerves and anxiety today; it was almost agonizing to watch the boy struggling so much just to answer a few simple questions (Severus thought them simple anyway). The boy was so frantic and shaky; those hands would just not stop trembling. He watched as some of his students had taken a brief moment to glance at Potter, wondering why he was so wound up. But Severus couldn't help himself to single the boy out, it had been such an impulse, such routine, and he wasn't very mean about it as he took the time to collect the boy's exam which he had barely written on. The boy even forgot to write down his name. Severus had to stop himself from shaking his head as he noticed this. _

_ It was almost impossible to watch Potter as he desperately attempted to make his potion and he could see the boy falling to pieces, just looking entirely lost and frenzied but he was slightly proud of the boy never once looking at Granger's work which she had been doing an acceptable job at. He sat there bored and somewhat anxious himself. He wanted the hour to be up so he could get them all to leave, all but Potter. He could not wait until 7:00pm, he knew that despite how self controlled of a man he was, despite how orderly he was. No, Potter needed help and Severus would provide it easily. It was striking to see how much the boy was holding in, how uneven his breathing had become, how pressured, he looked like he would snap at any moment. _

_ And finally it was over and he graded their work quickly and made Potter stay behind. It had agitated him to no end when the boy wouldn't even look up at him; those thin shoulders were shaking like a leaf, those hands gripping at each other. So, impatiently, he forced the boy to look up and he could see the cry in those blue eyes that held such ache and it had pained his heart to see just how much he was holding in, forcing it down with every shuddered breath. So it was obvious and easy; Potter just needed one little shove, a few words that hardly held any hostility but it would do the trick. And it was as if he had unlocked a cage that was holding back a fierce irate beast. He stood there simply watching Potter losing it, breaking apart and it was hard to not try to stop him because he was worried he might hurt himself in the process of throwing everything he could find and then resulting to mangling himself, his clothes, his hair, just completely, entirely angry with everything, irritated by every little thing as if he truly wanted to bring down the whole structure of the room. He wondered for a moment if he had looked like that all those weeks ago in Potter's room._

_ He had locked the door long ago and just stared as the boy tried to open it with everything he had then resorted to slamming his fists against, striking the thing; those blows would probably hurt if they have been directed at someone and then Potter broke down entirely and how Severus hated to see it. He waited in the moment, in the dying echoes around the room and he knew he shouldn't, that it was taboo, that it was dangerous, ill advised, but he was done with the warnings his brain gave him, he was done fighting it because it was more than useless now. He didn't deserve this, it was so selfish but he couldn't resist and if seen by any other it would probably be frowned upon, prohibited, perhaps disgusting but something had begun and maybe he didn't know where it would end up because there was that line; that wretched line. And Severus was looking at the boy on his knees, hands flat upon the door, begging with the world to cure him and he couldn't, wouldn't stop himself so he stepped on that line._

_ Once again he forced the boy to face him and the room was filled with the sounds of their skirmish and it was so wrong, almost disturbing with these two bodies struggling and then pulled against each other. Severus held the boy too tightly and it surprised him more than it should and the sensations his hands felt; he really just couldn't understand it. The boy was warm, shaking all over, but Severus felt the sudden calm that seemed to fall over Potter. He waited as the boy cried and despite all that had happened, all that he had once felt, all the bitterness and hatred; this sudden act, this kind embrace seemed right, like something had finally fallen into place for him in this dark and hideous life of his. The boy's hands had held onto him as if the world would end if he didn't and this alone made Severus feel so significant. Did he really mean something to the boy? Should he be allowed to take advantage of such a thing? It was most certainly wrong but he couldn't deny how much the moment was worth, how much he had taken from it, greedily and he was ashamed. _

_ And he spoke with as much care as he could to the boy and did right by apologizing and it took a long moment before Potter's tears had stopped. This was a good thing; Severus had thought when Potter had left him in his office, turning away with those cheeks ablaze once more. They had gotten past something and Severus could now build on its structure, he would help Potter and he would guide the boy and it was very difficult to try to not take advantage of the boy's kindness. _

_ He had been proud to see the boy progress with his first nonverbal spell and the Shield Charm would be perfect if Potter needed to protect himself from jinxes and most attacks. When their lesson was over it didn't feel right to just send the boy back to his dorm and he had to admit it had been too long since he had the boy for good company so tea would be proper, simple and their conversation had been light until Potter had said the one thing that made him slip. He didn't remember the last time he had smiled and he always thought a smile didn't look right on his face but it had been quick and he almost thought the boy wouldn't notice. However, the boy practically looked elated at Severus's reaction. He cursed inwardly at the boy for having made such a face to make him smile, however small, in the first place. It had been a slow build up of things; the way he laughed was a bit unique, it was innocent, timid and breathy and even though there was no sound from Potter he could remember easily how the boy's laugh had always been amongst his friends. Those lips moved to his words as did his hands and Severus had gotten used to it, to understanding those hands but sometimes he found himself looking past those hands to see those lips and imagine Potter speaking. He would never say it to anyone and it was hard to even realize it but he missed that voice. If he made a strong enough effort he could remember whole sentences the boy had spoken long ago. He felt somewhat pathetic, shamed because it was like a secret, a growing secret kept well hidden from anyone. And Potter had asked him to apologize to that woman which he would rather not do at all but to deny this boy something he had asked personally for, it was an impossible thing._

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning feeling wonderful which was much different than the way he had felt the past few days. He quickly showered and dressed in his uniform and robes and gave Ron a cheerful good morning though Ron didn't return it as the boy looked rather sleepy still. When they were ready he hurried down to breakfast with Ron and Hermione.

"We get to meet the Defense teacher today," Ron said and then he took a big bite from his sausage.

Harry looked over his schedule and read that they had Herbology, then a break and then it was double Defense before lunch and Transfiguration after lunch and then a free period.

"Has anyone said anything about him yet?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think anyone from our year has had him yet," Ron answered. "I did overhear a First Year girl saying he was sort of...off…Don't really know what to make of that though."

"Hello," Luna Lovegood had come over to their table and sat down. She was holding a BSL book. "I'm sort of looking forward to seeing the new professor; he does look a bit sinister though." And then she signed good morning to Harry and Harry smiled and returned the greeting.

"Thank you for learning," Harry signed.

"Oh it's my pleasure, it is a very interesting thing to learn, I've taken quite well to it," Luna replied. "A lot of the other Ravenclaw girls asked me to make duplicates of the books so I did; they seemed rather interested in learning it."

"Really?" Ron said. "Well, they are Ravenclaws…They'd probably have an uprising if the library was closed…No offense Luna."

"None taken," Luna smiled lightly.

Harry was surprised that people he really didn't know wanted to learn and once again he didn't know how to feel about it and he looked around and sure enough there were a few people at the Ravenclaw table with similar books to Harry's own.

"Well, I'll see you," Luna said and she left their table as Harry waved goodbye.

"Harry…I don't mean to alarm you but, Snape's looking at you…and well…he's been doing that a lot lately," Ron said uncomfortably.

Hermione, who had been sitting across from them, gave Ron a glaring look and then turned to Harry. Harry's face grew hot and he couldn't look Ron in the eyes or Hermione's.

"I…" Harry signed but he didn't know what to say. "That's…weird…" And he forced a smile on his face. "He's probably just...He's not looking at me now, see?" Harry winced as his hands fumbled with the words and he had looked up at the staff table and Snape seemed to be talking to Professor Dumbledore but then he turned away and looked right back at Harry.

"I thought you said your lesson went well," Ron said as he had glanced at the staff table then back at Harry.

"It did," Harry signed and nodded. "He even complimented me." And then Harry wished he hadn't told Ron that because the boy's face took on a confused look and he returned back to his breakfast.

"Well," Hermione suddenly said a bit loudly. "I'm glad, its better that he's treating you with respect."

Harry looked at her and he could tell that she seemed unsure of her words. But Harry couldn't tell them, he just couldn't because it was strange. He looked up at the staff table and gave Snape a slight nod and smiled a bit and then looked away. He wondered why Snape was staring at him so much, maybe just to make sure he ate but it seemed unlikely. Their first lesson had gone better than Harry could have hoped for and if Snape was going to act that way in these lessons then Harry would learn quickly. Yes, he felt very good today.

When they were done with breakfast they headed out onto the grounds and to the greenhouses.

"I hope Hagrid isn't too cross that not one of us continued with his classes…" Hermione had said as they walked across the grass. "When we get the chance we need to explain."

Harry felt bad as he walked along the sun filled grass. It was very bright out this morning as the sky was blue again. He knew he should enjoy it because it wouldn't last long, the rain would start soon enough. Harry knew that to be in Hagrid's class would just hamper his other class's performances and he really didn't feel like risking his fingers anymore. Hagrid had been a good teacher but he had enough stress already which was one thing he was supposed to be avoiding.

"I don't think Hagrid should be surprised, those Blast-Ended Skrewts were enough, there's no way I could stand another year…" Ron said when they had entered Greenhouse 3 amongst the throng of other 6th Years.

"Hiya Harry," Neville greeted. "Ron, Hermione."

"Hey Neville," Ron replied.

Harry sat on a stool next to Neville while Ron sat next to Hermione and Lavender Brown.

They spent the class time listening carefully to Professor Sprout's instructions and she introduced their term project which ultimately surrounded understanding and handling Snargaluff plants which looked like gnarled tree stumps. They had taken notes and each of their groups had been given a Snargaluff plant that they would need to tend over the term. Harry seemed wary of the thing because Professor Sprout had told them all that they would be dealing with more dangerous plants this year. It had been dull as Harry had never been too interested in plants but he always enjoyed the fact that it was Neville's strong suit. After they had watered the odd stump they were done and enjoyed their small break by sitting outside on the grass. Harry held his head back and let the sun shine on his face; it was nice to not feel like he had felt yesterday. There were plenty of people still whispering about him and staring and more girls than he could count giggling around him at some points but he had his friends and Snape who kept changing by the day.

"Let's go," Hermione said as she stood up with her heavy school bag and brushed the back of her skirt.

Harry couldn't deny that he wondered what the new Defense teacher would be like. Defense Against the Dark Arts was his best subject and the one he most enjoyed but had been tarnished by Umbridge last year. They headed back into the castle and to the third floor. They were joined by Neville, Parvarti, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and a group of Slytherins, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson were among them. Harry rolled his eyes as Malfoy walked over to him. When was he just going to give it up?

"Don't expect to be favored in this class Potter, Professor Royle was a Slytherin," Malfoy said arrogantly.

Harry glared at him and he hated how he now had to look up at Malfoy to meet him in the eyes.

"You know what? I'm quite glad to not have to hear your whiny voice anymore, it's a blessing really," Malfoy continued and he gave Harry a smirk.

"Don't you have anything better to do you slimy git?" Ron said as he took a step forward. Unlike Harry, Ron was just as tall as the blond Slytherin.

"Shut up Weasley," Malfoy spat.

"How 'bout you make me?"

Harry thought quickly how Ron's face looked very angry and dark and Hermione was just about to say something when a loud, clear voice was heard from down the corridor:

"What's going on here?"

Professor Royle was walking toward them all and Harry was able to see just how tall the man was and he looked strong and very young. He wore his dark navy blue robes again but a black vest with white buttons over a white collared dress shirt and black slacks. His black dress shoes were more like boots. He had his hands in his pockets and his bangs swayed from the motion of his strides. His gray eyes were narrowed. He stopped right beside Malfoy and Ron who equally had on worried expressions.

"You gonna have a row?" He asked and Harry was surprised at how laid back his voice was. It was very strong and deep but somewhat scratchy.

"No sir," Malfoy said as Ron shook his head quickly.

"Ah well," he muttered and then opened the classroom door and no one moved but rather just stared at the man as if hypnotized. "What's a matter with you lot? Get in." He held the door open for them with the front of his foot and Harry realized the man was chewing gum. They hurried in and Harry and Ron sat next to each other at the desk to the furthest right at the front of the room and Hermione and Neville sat in the desk beside them. There was a shuffle of book bags opening but Professor Royle announced loudly as he walked down the center row:

"No, no, don't take your books out; you won't be needing them today."

Hermione gave Harry a glance and Harry shrugged as he put _Confronting the Faceless _back in his bag.

"Right then," Professor Royle called to them all as he stood by his desk. "I'll take time to remember your names later…but _my_ name is Royle, you can call me Professor, Professor Royle, sir, whatever…um…Today is going to be sort of…I _guess_ you could call it a test."

Harry really didn't know what to make of this man. He was sitting somewhat on the desk as he spoke and he looked up a lot as if thinking of what to say and when his eyes scanned the room they seemed bored and he was chewing his gum here and there.

"I want you to get into groups of three, hurry it up, time is a wasting," Professor Royle ordered.

There was a pause and then everyone began to get up from their seats. Hermione came up to them and whispered:

"_He's chewing gum…_"

"I think I know why they said he was off…" Ron whispered back.

After a short moment the class was settled again.

"Ok, everyone's in their groups, fantastic," Royle let out and there was a stack of parchment paper on his desk and he took out his wand from his sleeve and tapped the stack. One paper flew out to each group and Hermione caught theirs. It had nothing on it.

"You are all going to have a scavenger hunt," Royle announced.

Everyone began to murmur amongst themselves around the classroom.

"You will have two hours to complete it," Royle's voice suddenly sounded more serious. "Each group will have seven items total to find. They are random and have been chosen by yours truly. Some groups may have similar items to find. They are in no particular order. I will tell you this now; if you do not participate in the hunt you will get a grade mark of Troll for the whole month."

Hermione took in a small, quick breath as other students complained in whispers to their peers.

"Your search area is the whole school, including the grounds. The group who gets back here first and has all seven items wins a prize and the rest will owe me a seven foot essay to be handed to me on Thursday," Royle announced and there were slight gasps and moans and Harry looked to Ron who had a "I can't believe this," look on his face. "Your essay will outline in your own words the first three chapters of…" Professor Royle was looking over his desk and picked up their textbook and read off of it "_Confronting the Faceless, _right." He nodded and let the book fall on his desk. "All you need to do to reveal your first item is tap the parchment and say "Begin." You will not switch papers with any group, if you do, I will know. And that's it, get started."

The class hesitated and Hermione's hand shot up in the air.

"Yes?" Royle said as he put his hands in his pockets again.

"Are there any other rules sir?" she asked.

"Let's see…don't kill each other I suppose; that's important," Professor Royle answered as he looked at Hermione. "Well, what are you waiting for? The clock is ticking."

"Let's go," Hermione said as she hurried to the door and it was then that everyone raced with their school bags to the door as well. No one desired to do that long of an essay. It was definitely an odd beginning to a class and Harry wondered as they gathered outside in the corridor what this scavenger hunt had to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts. All around him the groups were already tapping their parchment and there were a few loud angry shouts and Harry looked to Ron and Hermione hastily as Hermione tapped the parchment with her wand and said "Begin" and Harry watched as the words appeared, glowing white at first then settled in black ink, on the top of the page. It read:

_**A Ravenclaw Necktie**_

"What?" Ron said and he looked around as the groups started to spread out.

"We need to find a Ravenclaw student," Hermione snapped.

Harry knew that Hermione would never allow herself to fail at any task that had to deal with school and the thought of getting a mark of Troll was probably hindering over her like a giant shadow. So they ran off and Harry saw that Malfoy had Nott and Goyle in his group. At first there were no students in sight besides those from Harry's class. He figured they were all in class themselves. They headed to the Great Hall quickly and stopped at the front entrance and peered inside.

"Harry, it's Cho!" Hermione hissed in his ear. Cho Chang was sitting across from a Hufflepuff girl and they were talking. There were the only few students in the Great Hall but others were a Ravenclaw boy and a few Hufflepuffs and one Gryffindor 7th Year who was reading.

Harry looked to her with narrowed eyes and signed:

"Good, go ask her."

"_Harry_," Hermione said and she looked very determined. "You have the better chance to get it from her."

"Hermione, that's a bit mean," Ron said but Hermione glared at him and he shut his mouth quickly.

"No," Harry signed quickly.

"Go!" Hermione snapped.

Harry looked to Ron for help but he looked up at the ceiling. Harry gritted his teeth and walked over to the third middle table where Cho sat and he took out his notepad and pen.

"Hi Harry," Cho smiled brightly at him.

Harry gave her a short wave and then wrote down.

_ May I ask you something?_

Harry felt embarrassed as Cho's eyes grew hopeful as she read his question. She turned in her seat to face him and said:

"What is it?"

Harry hesitated as the Hufflepuff girl was also looking at him and he wrote down something quickly and showed it to her:

_ May I please borrow your necktie? It's a scavenger hunt for D.A.D.A._

Cho played with a lock of her hair as she read the message and said:

"A scavenger hunt? That sounds fun." She looked up at him and Harry felt the heat rising to his cheeks.

Harry nodded.

"Ok," Cho said and smiled at him. She loosed her tie a bit and took it off and handed it to Harry who took it and was a bit bothered how it was warm from being around her shirt collar. He wrote quickly:

_I'll bring it back to you as soon as I can. Thank you._

"No problem," Cho said. "I'm learning sign language too you know, Luna gave me some books."

Harry smiled awkwardly at her and signed thank you to her and ran off back to Ron and Hermione. Ron was snickering. Harry gave him sharp look as he put the tie in his book bag.

"Look," Hermione said as she held the parchment which had words glowing on it again right underneath the first item.

They stood there together and read the next item:

_**Slytherin's Head Boy Badge**_

"Ah, bloody hell," Ron let out. "He can't be serious!"

"What do we do?" Hermione sounded a bit frantic.

Harry was getting frustrated as well. This was ridiculous, having to find useless items like these. But he wasn't one to give up, not anymore, so he wracked his brains and had an idea and he signed to them:

"I'll use my cloak, I'll wait outside the Slytherin common room and pray someone goes in or out and sneak in that way. If I have any luck the Head Boy will be in there."

"But Harry, we don't know for sure," Hermione said in a warning voice like she always had when they came up with reckless ideas. "It's risky!"

"I can't think of anything else, you wait in the entrance hall and I'll go to the dungeons," Harry signed and he took out his Invisibility Cloak and handed his bag to Ron. "I'll be quick."

"Be careful Harry," Hermione said.

Harry nodded and slipped on the cloak and hurried off as quietly as he could down to the dungeons through the door by the entrance hall. The cold chilled him as he made his way through the labyrinthine passages and kept a look out for any Slytherins. It took a moment to remember exactly where the entrance to the Slytherin common room was but had a sense of déjà vu and came to the large damp stone wall. In a quick moment he smiled as he recalled the day he and Ron had stood here as 2nd Years believing that Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin but he was brought quickly back to the task at hand. He basically had to become a thief and steal the Slytherin's Head Boy's badge.

Harry waited in the dim light in the cold stoned corridor and finally there were a group of older looking Slytherin boys headed toward where he was. Some had sweets in their hands. Harry quickly stood aside as they came forward and one boy said:

"_Serpent's Eye_."

And the stone door that was concealed in the wall slowly slid open. It was easy for Harry to follow them very quietly into their common room. It was as exactly as Harry remembered it with its stoned walls, greenish glow, elegant mantelpiece and black couches and high black chairs. The boys all sat around the fireplace as the fire crackled. They talked loudly amongst themselves and ate their sweets. Harry saw that at the large desk beside the two black couches sat a 7th Year boy with slicked back black hair and dark brown eyes. He was reading a large book and making notes on a piece of parchment. There on his uniform vest was his Head Boy badge. Harry felt a sudden relief. He would just have to snatch it as quickly as he could through the cloak. Harry held his breath as he walked over to the boy with the softest steps he could take.

With his right hand that he couldn't stop from shaking he reached out with the cloak over it.

_Quickly, like a band-aid. _Harry thought.

It was then that one of the boys by the fireplace rushed over to the Head Boy asking him something and Harry had almost tripped over his own feet to get out of the boy's way. Harry let out a breath silently and waited and then he just went for it like going for the Snitch. He climbed on the table slightly and in a millisecond as his reflexes were kicking in he grasped the badge and yanked it off. The boy was suddenly startled and Harry practically fell to the floor as he tried to get off the table and he ran for it as his heart was racing so fast in his chest. The boys behind him hardly knew what had happened. He pushed the door open and ran as fast as he could through the dungeon passages and all the way up the spiral staircase and then burst through the door back into the entrance hall where Hermione and Ron were waiting anxiously for him.

Harry was gasping as he took the cloak off and carefully took the Head Boy badge from it and held it out to Ron who took it and put it in Harry's school bag.

"Harry, you did it!" Hermione said happily. "How?"

Harry shook his head as he tried to catch his breath and pointed to the paper. He didn't know how much time they had left. Hermione quickly looked down as Harry walked over to them and read the glowing letters:

_**A Unicorn Hair**_

They all looked at each other as Harry's face was red from running. He took his bag from Ron and headed out the front doors to Hagrid's hut.

* * *

"We're really sorry Hagrid," Hermione apologized again to the man who sat at his table. They were all in Hagrid's hut, lucky to have convinced the man to even let them in.

"I just can't believe you three didn't want to go on with my class…but I s'pose it would be hard to fit in yer schedules. " Hagrid looked genuinely let down.

Harry was trying to give Hagrid his best apologetic stare as he possibly could without glancing up at what hung on the ceiling next to a number of brass pots: a silky skein of bright white hair.

"So you lot are in need of some unicorn hair?" Hagrid said as if defeated by the look Harry was giving him.

"Just one," Hermione said softly.

"Yeh promise to have tea with me soon, Harry?" Hagrid asked gruffly.

Harry nodded so fast it made his head hurt. Hagrid stood up and with a giant hand he reached up and pulled one long shiny white hair from the bunch and handed it to Hermione.

"Thank you!" Hermione said. "We promise to visit, honest!"

"Yeah. Righ'," Hagrid said. "Best be getting back to that hunt of yours…Never heard of a Hogwarts' teacher doing tha' before."

Hermione held out the paper as Harry took the unicorn hair and put it in his book bag gently a long with the other items. The white letters appeared and read:

_**A bit of Mrs. Norris's Fur**_

Ron let out an exasperated breath.

"We're going to need your map Harry," Hermione said quickly.

Harry's legs were starting to ache and he blew out a breath and they ran off out onto the grounds. Many students from their class as Harry noticed as the three of them jogged a long were wading in the Black Lake and he wondered just what Professor Royle was having them find.

Moments later Harry was hopping out of the Gryffindor portrait hole with the Marauder's Map in hand and quickly handed it over to Ron who tapped it with his wand and said:

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The map's contents appeared and Ron quickly opened it and they all began to look for Mr. Filch's sidekick.

"There's Mrs. Norris," Ron announced as he pointed to her name on the map. "The Trophy Room."

"Third floor, quickly," Hermione said and the three of them began to run again down four flours and by the time they got to the Trophy Room Harry could barely breathe.

"How much time do we have left?" Hermione asked.

Ron looked at his watch:

"Less than an hour," Ron rushed out.

"Right…" Hermione started to walk into the room quietly as she held her finger to her lips to hush them.

Mrs. Norris was wandering about along the back wall as if guarding the room.

"Here nice puss," Ron whispered as they moved in closer on the red eyed cat who immediately hissed at them and ran between Harry's feet.

"No!" Hermione cried out as Harry and Ron raced after the cat. She went out of the room and down a corridor. Harry was faster than Ron as he ran, breathing hard with his heart pounding in his chest. He followed Mrs. Norris down a staircase and she knew that Harry was chasing her now; Harry just hoped she wouldn't fit herself into someplace he couldn't reach. Ron was huffing behind as Mrs. Norris led them all over the 2nd floor and many students in which they had passed by gave them such looks. Hermione was behind them, loaded down by her book bag as she hurried to keep up.

Mrs. Norris was really quick on her feet and Harry prayed that Filch wouldn't find them chasing his beloved cat. Harry chased her up the flight of stairs again to the 3rd floor but she turned around to go back down the stairs and it was then that Harry and Ron had her in-between them and Mrs. Norris turned swiftly around and at the sight of Harry running down the stairs she jumped straight into Harry's chest and he grabbed her as she clawed wherever she could get him and Harry quite desperately yanked some of her fur and let her go and lost his footing on the stone steps but Ron was there to catch him before he fell.

"This is mad!" Ron breathed out as his hands were on his knees.

Hermione trudged up the rest of the steps, breathing hard. She took out a tiny empty potion vial and handed it to Harry and said:

"Put the fur in there."

Harry, with a shaking hand, took the small cork out and placed the few hairs inside the glass bottle, corked it and placed it in his own bag.

"How do you suppose that paper knows exactly what we find is the right thing?" Ron asked.

"I have no idea…it's probably really advanced…" she said as she was putting her hair into a ponytail. Harry looked all over himself as he could feel the stinging scratches on his arms, neck and face as well as his hands. Ron handed him back his map and Harry pocketed it.

"She got you good there, mate," Ron said pointing to a particular scratch on his neck.

"I didn't notice," Harry signed and he took the paper from Hermione which had another set of glowing words upon it. Their next item was:

_**Professor Snape's Signature**_

Ron groaned but Hermione immediately said quickly:

"Harry! Try his office!"

"Why me? I've already done—" Harry began to sign but Hermione practically shouted as her hands were clenched together:

"Please Harry! You're the only one who has the best chance; you've said he's been decent to you!"

Harry glared at the girl and then hurried down the staircase and all the way back to the entrance hall. He hated how he had to go back to the dungeons after he just about ran the whole area. He quickly made his way to Snape's office and waited for a moment before knocking. It was a second before Snape opened the door swiftly and he had a sour expression on his face but when his eyes fell on Harry the expression vanished and he simply said:

"Oh. What is it, Mr. Potter?"

He turned and walked into his office and Harry thought he should follow so he stepped in gingerly. Snape sat behind his desk and looked him over and then he narrowed his eyes.

"Your face is covered in red marks…" Snape stood quickly and walked over to Harry and gently took his chin in his hand and lifted his head a bit, examining him. "Look at the state of you, what have you been doing?" His hand came away.

"Its Defense class…Professor Royle has us doing a scavenger hunt…" Harry signed and had to fingerspell "Royle" and then he continued: "Professor, may I please have your signature?"

Snape gave him a disapproving look.

"Mr. Potter, you are the third student to ask me that question in the last half hour," Snape snapped. "The last one got detention; just what _exactly_ does Royle have you all looking for?"

"Just odd items," Harry signed in reply. "Please sir, we don't have much time left…" Harry wondered if Snape had actually given the two students from his class his signature and who had been brave enough to ask in the first place.

Snape looked annoyed as he went to one of the many shelves on the wall and grabbed something from it. He walked back over to Harry and handed him a tiny circular brown jar. Harry took it.

"When you are finished with your silly little game put that on those scratches," Snape said and then held out his hand as if waiting and Harry quickly took out his notepad and pen and turned it to a blank page and gave it to Snape. Snape signed the page promptly and handed the notepad and pen back to Harry. He pocketed the items and the salve.

"Thank you Professor," Harry signed.

"Where did you get those scratches from Potter?" Snape asked.

"Mrs. Norris," Harry signed.

"Well go on," Snape said after a moment.

Harry nodded hastily and left the man's office and raced back up to the entrance hall. He reached Hermione and Ron and tried to rub the biting stitch out of his side.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded as he winced at the pain in his side. How he wanted this ridiculous task to be over with. Hermione held out the paper and the next item was glowing and it read:

_**A Hufflepuff's Cardigan**_

"Why exactly does this new teacher need all these things?!" Ron said as they were already running to the Great Hall but it was empty now.

"How much time do we have left?" Hermione asked as they headed out onto the grounds in search of a Hufflepuff student.

"Twenty minutes!" Ron said. "And we don't even know if a group has already made it back!"

"Hufflepuff!" Hermione called as she pointed to a group of 2nd Year girls who were all Hufflepuffs making their way back from the greenhouses as they were a bit covered in earth. "Excuse me!" Hermione ran over to them while Ron and Harry waited anxiously. Hermione was talking to the group and holding her hands together as if in prayer and one of the girls nodded and Hermione jumped in the air and the blond girl took off her cardigan and handed it over to Hermione. "I'll bring it right back!" she said as she was running back to Harry and Ron.

"That was easy," Ron said. "We've got one more."

Harry put the uniform cardigan in his bag and looked at the paper which letters seemed to glow brighter because of the sunlight. It read:

_**Harry James Potter's Glasses**_

"How lucky is that?" Ron exclaimed. "Let's get back."

"Harry…you better run," Hermione said as she was looking over at a group of three people.

Harry found what she was looking at and it was a group of Slytherins who were only a few feet away: Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, and a Slytherin boy he didn't recognize but they were all running towards him looking somehow vicious. Harry didn't wait a second longer as he took off toward the castle cursing Professor Royle in his head. What was this new professor playing at? He could briefly hear some shouting behind him and turned to see Hermione and Ron running a long side the Slytherins. How desperate and competitive could they be?

Harry launched himself up the first flight of stairs, weighted down slightly by his book bag and his legs were already aching, the muscles burning. His footsteps sounded heavy as he made it to the second floor. His face was sweaty and hot and his head ached.

"_Impedimenta!_" a voice shouted.

Harry barely dodged the jinx as he threw himself to the floor and looked to his left to see Malfoy, Nott, and Goyle running toward him. Goyle was dragging a long a Hufflepuff 1st Year student who looked very frightened.

"Potter!" Malfoy shouted. "_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Harry only just dodged the body bind curse as it hit the floor. He took off running as Hermione was racing up the stairs in the lead of Ron and the Slytherins.

"Harry, run!" she shouted.

"Get him!" someone shouted.

He couldn't believe just how fast he could run when he knew someone, practically a mob, was chasing him. He couldn't believe how much noise they were all making throughout the floors of the school and what a teacher might do if they found them all like this. Malfoy was shouting at him and trying to hit him with jinxes but Ron was making him miss by smacking his hand. He could hear all of their stomping footsteps as he ran up to the third floor. His heart was crashing in chest now as he didn't know where his strength was coming from. Pansy was screaming for someone to get him and Malfoy looked furious as Ron had disarmed his wand from him but they were all still running after him and a few Gryffindors had joined them and Harry knew he had to get to the classroom first.

He turned down a corridor and ducked his head as someone had shot another curse at him. It was complete madness and it was all because of Royle. How could someone manipulate his classmates in such a way? Harry could confirm one thing however; all Slytherins were nasty. He raced down the corridor wishing for that classroom door to just be a little closer and finally, finally as if he were having a bad nightmare as he could hear the storm of shouts and footsteps behind him he opened the heavy door and fell inside.

Harry picked himself up, practically limping toward the front of the classroom where Professor Royle was just sitting there, leaning back in his chair with his boots on his desk reading their textbook and still chewing gum. At the sight of Harry he smiled and set his feet down and stood up quickly.

"You get everything?" Royle asked.

Harry didn't know if his face was glaring at the man or what but he was sweaty, in pain, more than out of breath and agitated beyond his senses. He took off his school bag and took out all six items, and took off his glasses from his face, and placed them on the man's desk.

"Very good," Royle said cheerfully. "And with a minute to spare."

It was then that the crowd that had been chasing Harry pushed themselves into the classroom, looking menacing and disappointed. It was quite the sight, some students were soaked from having to go into the lake, everyone was red in the face, Seamus had the helmet of a suit of armor in his hands, and Neville was carrying a house elf who looked rather bewildered. Hermione and Ron hurried over to Harry.

"Everyone, in your seats!" Royle ordered as he sat on the desk by the items Harry had put there.

The rest of the students groaned as they took their seats. Through the blurriness Harry could see that Parvarti was holding a trumpet of some kind and Neville let the house elf go who scampered out of the room. He sat down in his seat next to Ron and Hermione joined Parvarti.

"That was fun, right?" Royle clapped his hands together. He began counting the people in the room. "Ok, no stragglers. Very good. I didn't expect you all to try this hard but I'm impressed."

No one spoke. It was as if the whole room was radiating a certain loathing toward the man at the front of the classroom. Then Royle took on a serious face as he stood there; those gray eyes darkened.

"Can anyone tell me why I had you do this?"

There were a few whispers but no one raised their hand, not even Hermione. The sun was bright through the windows behind Royle as it was noon now. It made the man's handsome features stand out as he spoke:

"These are basic survival skills: one, have a plan, two, know how to act under pressure," he looked over all of them and said in a low voice: "Three, be willing to do anything to survive."

Harry's heart was calming down but he felt the pinch in his chest. Was that what they were doing? They did come up with a few easy plans on the spot despite getting the Head Boy badge. They did act under pressure which was the time limit and the punishment of the dreadfully long essay. And Harry hadn't been willing to do any of the things that they had done but he had done them anyway to win. And now the whole class was sitting here looking worse for wear and probably thinking over the same thing Harry was.

"The grade was to put you into action and the essay was the driving force to keep you going and the prize, well, that's your reward for your brave efforts," Royle said and then he smiled. "I was lying about the essay though, like I would grade that many seven foot long papers." He laughed and shook his head.

And the whole class stared at the man with gaping mouths.

"What? I thought you'd be happy," Royle said. "If you really want the essay…"

There were shouts of "No!" all over the room.

"See?" Royle grinned. "Wasn't it nice to do something different for a change?"

Once again there were whispers and Harry knew they were full of rude accusations against this very strange man. Basically they had all been tricked by a Slytherin. Hermione was looking deadly as she sat there.

"Alright, the winners stay here and the rest of you lot can leave, before you go to lunch make sure to return your items back where you found them. You boy, let the Hufflepuff go."

Goyle, who had been holding the wide eyed 1st Year by the arm, let the boy go and he ran out of the classroom. Everyone got out of their seats slowly as the room was filled with the sound of chairs scraping against wood and everyone began to talk with one another as they filed out of the room.

"You three, over here," Professor Royle stood up with his hands in his pockets and motioned for them to join him.

Harry walked carefully as to not hit anything since he had his glasses off and stood by Ron and Hermione in front of their new professor. He pulled out three colorful slips and handed them out to each of them. Harry could tell as he squinted that they were certificates for Unlimited Butterbeer from The Three Broomsticks. Ron seemed happy but Harry didn't see how this prize fit the task.

"Sir…we won't be doing anymore of these…tests, will we?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"No you will not, I'm afraid I can only get away with it a few times," Professor Royle said and he sounded a bit disappointed. Harry wondered if he just enjoyed seeing students make fools of themselves. He could hardly understand this man. He seemed very straightforward, somewhat careless and lazy, but had moments where he could been seen as a man of great character.

"Well, be sure to take this stuff back, except the badge, I'll return that." Royle said. "Uh Potter, may I have a word with you for a moment?"

Harry was picking up his glasses and putting them back on while Hermione and Ron were gathering up the rest of the items.

"We'll see you at lunch Harry," Hermione said with a questioning glance at Professor Royle.

Harry nodded at them and pocketed his notepad and the two headed out of the classroom as Harry turned to face the tall man whose hands were still in his pockets and he was looking down at Harry.

"God you're short," Royle muttered quickly and Harry raised his eyebrows at him. "Well Potter, good work today. I know you can't talk and whatnot but I just wanted to let you know you're going to be my assistant from now on, I hear you're the best in Defense."

Harry didn't know what to make of the statement so he nodded slowly.

"Very good," Royle smiled and slapped a heavy hand on Harry's left shoulder, his knees almost buckled. "That's all." Harry watched the man walk towards the door with his hands in his pockets and leave. He really didn't know what to feel as he stood there but yes, he could agree, Professor Royle was a bit off.

* * *

"Can you believe him?!" Ron hissed as Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table and immediately laid his head down. He felt exhausted and starved but at the moment he was too weak to feed himself.

"I had to go into the lake to get shellfish," Neville complained.

"At least you didn't have your ear almost ripped off by Filch for getting that bloody cat's fur," Seamus grounded out. Harry noticed he had plenty of scratches all over his arms. "He's crazy, he is. Making us think we had to do a seven foot essay if we lost, that bastard."

"I don't get him," Dean said as he was sitting next to Ginny. "Survival skills or not, there's something up with him."

"He _is_ unique," Hermione said as she was reading from her D.A.D.A text book.

"He's quite handsome," Parvarti said with a smile. "And you have to admit, it was sort of exciting. It was reckless of us last year to go against Umbridge with the D.A. meetings but being sneaky like that as a part of a class assignment? He's right; it was different than just learning spells."

Ron and Neville seemed skeptical but Harry could tell Parvarti's statement had Seamus and Dean thinking.

"You should have seen Malfoy when I gave him back his wand," Ron said.

"It's not funny Ronald, he could've hurt Harry, he was breaking the rules for using spells in the corridors," Hermione snapped.

"Well, blame Royle for putting in Harry's glasses," Ron said. "You sure run fast mate." Ron laughed again.

Harry slowly slid a plate of sandwiches over to him and began to eat one while the side of his face was still lying against the cold table. He was sleepy and his muscles ached and he wished he could just go back to bed. Ron and everyone continued to talk about the new professor. Harry managed to sit up straight as he ate and he glanced up at the staff table to see Professor Royle talking to Professor Snape who looked irritated. Harry wondered if Snape was angry that his signature had been one of the items for the scavenger hunt. He also wondered of what Dumbledore thought of Royle and if he had been the one to give the man permission to give his students such a task.

"He didn't give us a scavenger hunt," Katie Bell said. "He gave us seventh years dueling tips and taught us some spells."

"Then why'd we get stuck with it?" Ron replied.

Hermione shrugged.

"What do you think of him, Harry?" Neville asked suddenly and he had used sign language as well which impressed Seamus.

"I don't know," Harry signed back. "Maybe it's because he's young."

"Yeah but he's a teacher," Ron said. "What kind of teacher chews gum in class?"

Harry smirked and drank heavily from his goblet. He was glad the hunt was over. He thought suddenly of how he could tell Snape that he had won during their lesson tonight.

"I can't get the image out of my head of all of us chasing you, Harry," Seamus said and laughed lightly. "Malfoy really wanted to win."

"I suppose it's because everyone's getting so much homework already and having to practice nonverbal spells," Neville said. "Of course it'd be you everyone would be chasing, Harry…mind you, me, Seamus and Dean already had everything and were just trying to beat you to the door."

Harry nodded. Before lunch was over Harry took out the healing balm that Snape had given him and shared it with Seamus who was grateful. It was a clear jell and smelt of mint and something Harry didn't know. Hermione helped him put it on his face and it went on clear and it absorbed into his skin and the scratches practically disappeared in moments.

They went to Transfiguration next with the Ravenclaw 6th Years who had also earned their E and O grades and had to take numerous notes on human transfiguration which Professor McGonagall told them they would be learning throughout the whole year. She had a conversation with the whole class about Professor Royle and was taken aback on his teaching methods, or at least the fact of what her Gryffindors had been put through and that they had been running around the whole school.

When class was over Harry cheered silently with Ron who had been falling asleep throughout class at McGonagall's extensive explanations and Hermione had asked so many questions Harry kept flinching every time her hand shot up in the air next to him. They made their way to the common room and Harry went straight to the boy's dormitory and laid down to rest before dinner. He lay there almost asleep but feeling happy that he would get to see Snape soon.

* * *

Harry was sore as he sat down at the Gryffindor table and ate some potato soup and rolls. The Great Hall was full of chatter and Harry found out that the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff 6th Year students had their own scavenger hunt given to them by Professor Royle. Harry felt sorry for them as he soon spotted those who had quarreled with Mrs. Norris. Hermione seemed to be in a bad mood once again as Lavender Brown was talking with Ron across from them. Harry noticed that Snape had left the staff table long ago. He said his goodbyes to his friends and headed to the dungeons. The chill in the stoned corridors was getting worse and Harry had left his robes on his bed and his cardigan was open. He knocked somewhat nervously on Professor Snape's door and the door opened quickly and Harry stepped inside. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace and the room was a lot warmer than the dreary cold outside.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," Snape greeted him and then looked him over. "You look tired."

"I was running a lot today for the scavenger hunt," Harry signed. "We won at least…"

"Yes, I heard about how half the Slytherin sixth years were chasing you around the castle," Snape replied. "I do not approve of such recklessness, you should be more careful."

Harry nodded and he wondered if Snape had known that Malfoy had been casting off plenty of jinxes and curses at him.

"Well, tonight we will focus on two spells," Snape said. "You will be working on the unlocking charm and the disarming charm. The unlocking charm should prove to be quite easy however the disarming charm will be a challenge."

Harry nodded and waited.

"I will lock the door and you will try to unlock it," Snape instructed as he took out his wand and pointed it at the door and Harry heard a click. "Now I'm sure you remember what you need to do."

Harry nodded once more as he took out his wand from his pants' pocket and walked over the office door.

"Now concentrate, Mr. Potter," advised Snape gently.

Harry closed his eyes at first as he thought of nothing and ignored the aches in his muscles. He focused with all his might and with determination he opened his eyes and pointed his wand and thought clearly: _Alohamora. _

And the door unlocked with another click and Harry smiled.

"Well done," Snape said as Harry turned around to face him. Snape walked over to the front of his desk and stood there. "Now, stand a few feet away from me and we shall try the disarming charm."

Harry obeyed and stood with his wand out and Snape had his in his right hand.

"You will need all of your concentration," Professor Snape instructed.

Harry nodded once and focused on Snape's wand and he focused greatly as he took a few deep breaths and in a quick motion with his wrist as he brought his wand up he said the spell in his head:

_Expelliarmus!_

But Snape's wand still remained in his hand and Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

"It's fine Mr. Potter," Snape said kindly. "Don't look so disappointed, I told you it would be difficult. Now try again."

Harry let out a sigh and then closed his eyes, once again ignoring the pain in his legs and he blocked out all thought. But for some reason after a half an hour of trying he couldn't disarm Snape. He was growing frustrated with himself. Snape, however, hadn't shouted at him once and he didn't even look cross.

"I'm sorry," Harry signed and he took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes.

"You don't need to apologize, Mr. Potter," Snape said. "You are tired, we will just resume tomorrow."

Harry shook his head and put his glasses back on.

"No, I need to learn this, I'm really good at this spell," Harry signed. "I need to be able to protect myself…"

Snape looked at him for a moment but then said:

"Alright, you may try again a few more times."

So Harry did but he still couldn't disarm Snape; the man's wand stayed just as still in his hand. Harry was red in the face from concentrating so much and he was now angry with himself because _Expelliarmus _was his signature trait to him, it was always so strong when he used it and for some reason to be unable to use it as he had done before when he could speak was heart treading.

"I want to keep trying," Harry signed.

"No, you will not be able to accomplish the spell tonight, you are tired," Snape said firmly.

"Don't tell me what I can't do," Harry signed quickly and realized just as quickly what he had said and he put his head down and clenched his fists.

Snape walked over to him slowly and Harry felt a strong hand come on his shoulder and he looked up and Snape didn't look angry, no, he looked worried.

"You need rest, and you are putting stress on yourself which I will not allow," he said and his voice was light. "I know you are determined, Mr. Potter and I know how vulnerable you feel." The hand came away but instead of going back to his side Snape's fingers gently brushed his bangs. Harry felt his chest tighten a bit as he looked over the man's face. Snape's dark eyes were looking at him with care and his lips were a thin line, somewhat serious. He suddenly felt sleepy and looked away quickly. Snape walked away from him and said: "Sit. I will bring you some tea."

Harry's legs moved without him really telling them to and it was nice to sit down. A moment later and Snape brought them tea like he had done the night before. The hot sweet taste felt good as he sipped at the tea slowly and quietly. He liked the way the golden liquid shimmered from the light. Snape's office had always been so dim before but now it was bright and warm.

"Mr. Potter," Snape called and Harry realized he had been spacing out.

Harry looked up quickly. Snape was sitting in his desk chair now.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes me to convey a message to you," Snape said. "Tomorrow at eight thirty in the morning Ms. Gardiner will be waiting for you in the Headmaster's office."

Harry's eyes broadened at this as he quickly set down his tea cup and signed:

"My sessions are going to continue?"

"Yes Mr. Potter," Snape answered. "Every Wednesday at eight thirty in the morning."

Harry smiled at this but then as he was looking at Snape his smile fell slightly and then completely.

"What is the matter?"

Harry waited for a moment as he lifted his eyes, growing timid and then he signed:

"I just…miss having lunch with you…" Harry looked away swiftly as the heat rose fiercely in his face. He felt like an idiot for saying such a thing to Snape.

"I miss it as well," Snape said.

Harry glanced at the man and he couldn't read his expression but those black eyes were glistening from the fire light.

"Perhaps…" Snape began, "If you so desire, you may come to my office once in a while and we can have a meal together…I understand however if you would rather eat with your peers."

Harry smiled softly and signed:

"I would like that…to eat with you sometimes."

Harry didn't know why Snape's sudden offer made his heart jump but he had already admitted to himself that he liked spending time with the man and he always looked forward to it. He didn't really know how to deal with questions from his friends if Snape ever came up in conversation but for some reason Harry didn't want them to come in-between what this was, this friendship he had made with Snape, it was important to him, it had become important and he could feel it growing as the days went by. He didn't know if Snape seemed pleased or not and he didn't know just how much Snape liked him as company but the man had offered so he must have meant it.

"Thank you," Harry signed.

"For what, Mr. Potter?"

Harry thought for a moment and he couldn't help but smile.

"What is it?" Snape said as he raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I don't know," Harry signed and he was still smiling.

Snape looked over him and even if Harry didn't know much about the man besides things he had already found out himself through the years he felt as if he understood the man he knew now.

"It's late, you should get back to your dorm," Snape said as he stood up.

Harry nodded as he stood up as well.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said and Harry looked to him. "How did you get into your common room last night if you couldn't say the password?"

Harry put on an awkward smile.

"You didn't wait until someone opened the entrance to let you in, did you?"

"Ron figured I should have been back after a bit, he opened it and…" Harry signed.

"I will walk you to your dorm," Snape interrupted as he glided over to him.

"You don't have to," Harry signed. "It's far."

"Nonsense, I only apologize for not realizing it yesterday night," Snape said and opened his office door and held it open for Harry.

Harry walked out quickly.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked as they began to walk through the cold dungeon corridor.

Harry nodded and then signed: "Just sore from running so much. I'm not the only one." He couldn't walk as fast as he would have liked.

"Are you cold?" Snape asked.

"I'm alright," Harry signed and smiled. It was strange as Snape sounded someone concerned.

They walked up the spiral staircase together, Harry a bit slower than normal and Snape stayed by his side. They walked through the entrance hall in silence as the castle itself was very quiet. By the time they reached the seventh floor landing Harry was out of breath but Snape seemed as if he could have kept going for quite some time as he was breathing normal. When they finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady Snape said:

"What is your password?"

"Cor leonis," Harry finger spelled the password to Snape.

"Very creative," Snape said with that silky sarcasm and then faced the portrait. "Cor leonis."

The portrait opened and Harry turned to Snape.

"Good night, Professor," Harry signed.

"Good night, Mr. Potter…"

"I'll practice the spell," Harry signed suddenly. "I promise I'll get it right."

"I'm not disappointed in you," Snape said with his velvety voice. "Now get some sleep, Mr. Potter."

Harry waited and then nodded slowly and climbed through the portrait hole.

As he dressed into his pajamas he thought for just a flicker of a moment that Snape had never sounded so sincere before.

* * *

**I hope everyone liked this chapter and wasn't bored. I hope you can review if you have the time and thank you for your reviews and support. **


	20. Chapter 19: Disarm

**Ok, for those of you who have read the version of this chapter before I edited it I am truly sorry for my mistakes with the time frame, I was quite sleepy when I was figuring it out but that is no excuse so I have made a time frame for everyone to follow. I just hope my mistake didn't discourage readers from continuing with the story. **

**Time frame:**

**- Severus Snape was born on January 9****th****, 1960.**

**-Sophia Gardiner was born in 1973.**

**-Harry Potter was born on July 31****st**** 1980. **

**-Snape began teaching in 1981 when he was 21 years old. He has taught at Hogwarts so far from the years 1981 to 1996.**

**-Sophia Gardiner attended Hogwarts from September 1****st**** 1984 to June of 1991.**

**-Harry Potter began his 1****st**** Year of Hogwarts on September 1****st**** 1991.**

**-Harry Potter began his 6****th**** Year of Hogwarts on September 1****st**** 1996.**

**-Sophia Gardiner is 23 years old.**

**-Severus Snape is 36 years old. **

**-Harry Potter is 16 years old. **

**My correction: Severus Snape had been teaching for 3 Years prior to Sophia Gardiner's attendance. **

**Professor Snape has been teaching at Hogwarts for about 15 years.**

**I hope everyone understands now and I am very sorry for the confusion.**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Disarm **

"I apologize…for insulting you and for criticizing your occupation…" Severus didn't know how he managed to look the woman in the eyes as he said these words almost as if reading them. "It is evident that Mr. Potter is in need of your assistance…I am sincerely sorry for denying that fact."

Ms. Gardiner was sitting there in the chair in front of Professor Dumbledore's desk. She raised her eyebrows at his words.

"I'm impressed," she said with that smile of hers.

"_Of _what?" Severus asked tightly.

"That you would apologize to me because Harry asked you to," she answered.

Severus felt his eye twitch. This woman was certainly irritating no matter what.

"Thank you, Professor Snape, I accept your apology," she said and she stood quickly. "And you should know I only care for one person's approval, and that's not yours, it's Harry's."

Severus's eyes narrowed.

"Of course," Severus had to force out.

"So you two are back on good terms, yes?" she asked.

"Yes," Severus answered. He really wanted to get back to his study. He should have gotten more sleep. "Why do you ask?"

"Because it is _evident_," she said, putting a strain on the word he had used, "that Harry really enjoys having you as a friend."

Severus was silent for a moment. It was difficult to read this woman.

"Well, I do hope you have a good morning," Severus said finally with little emotion.

She just smiled at him and he left the office quickly. He had no desire to take Potter to another session with this woman but if it made the boy happy, if it made him feel better, and if it made him get better then he had no other choice. It was very early; the boy would still be sleeping no doubt. Dumbledore had taken leave again; to where? He did not know and it was frustrating to be kept in the dark. Though Potter's presence seemed to always set his mind at ease and as long as he knew the boy was safe he didn't linger on worrying about certain things he had no control over.

However, it was getting harder to stop himself from reaching out to the boy; in words and with his hands. It was as if Potter pulled at them like a sort of magnet but all the boy had been doing was standing there. He felt the need to comfort the boy greatly when Potter looked troubled or poignant. When those eyes would suddenly fill with dissatisfaction; Severus didn't know how to explain it. He found himself wanting to speak to the boy more than usual, wanting to see him and have him in his company. And for a reason he did not know, he wanted Potter to want the same things. This inducement did not want to die no matter how Severus had tried to suppress it; it just kept growing.

It was very bizarre, so very different because he began to notice things that he had been much oblivious to only days ago. They were little things about Potter but they stuck into his memory. Potter always smelt of a strong soap and to Severus it smelt good, it was somewhat enticing. When Severus had accidentally let his fingers brush the boy's bangs the dark brown hair felt soft. Those bangs had always been kept over his scar. He wondered if others had gotten so used to the thing they barely saw it anymore like it was for his own eyes. Potter's posture was very straight; he only ever slouched when he was nervous or tired. When the boy would wear a sweater of some kind the sleeves were somewhat too long and those hands would always hold onto the ends of them. Potter liked playing with the last button of his cardigan when he was anxious, that was one thing Severus had first been aware of and he could tell the boy didn't know when he was doing it. The boy's fingernails were always clean and short, this was odd for Severus to notice but it was there. He had valued the careful way the boy's hands held Severus's tea cups even though he hardly cared if they got broken. He assumed the boy always held it that way because he knew he was clumsy.

And the boy had a way of making others smile. Even if he could not speak now he would be sitting at meal times at his house table and it was guaranteed that whoever spoke with Potter would wind up smiling in some way. Perhaps it was a gift, a gift that Potter could even give to him but Severus would never willingly let himself smile. Severus was worried over these things that he now noticed and he worried that he wasn't doing enough to control them but he knew, he honestly knew he didn't want to control them.

* * *

He stood in darkness. He felt as if he were to be waiting for someone. And yet no one was coming for him. Then it began to rain; not water but fire. There were pieces of paper floating down around him, all caught aflame and burning and turning to ash before they fell upon the ground. He looked all around and with a shaking hand he stole a piece of paper from the air and blew out the flame. There was writing upon it. He read it from the light of small flaming papers that never ended.

_You're just like your father. _

"Passing notes in my class, Mr. Potter?"

And the scene had changed in a flash and he was suddenly staring up at Professor Snape who looked cross. He was in the man's class and it was full of students but it was different because the classroom was lit up by the sunlight that was practically breaking through the windows, but Potions was in the dungeons...

"That's detention for you and Black, Potter," Snape's voice slithered out and he snatched the note from his hands and he was startled. Black? There wasn't a person named Black in his class…His head moved and sitting right next to him was Sirius and he didn't know why he was in here because he was an adult. Sirius was staring at him and then he winked and smiled that smile he knew so well. Snape was at the front of the class talking but he sounded as if he were underwater.

His heart began to pound and he stood up because he didn't belong here, whatever was happening wasn't real and he was looking at Sirius who was giving him a worried expression. Sirius's mouth was moving but he couldn't hear his voice. He could feel himself panicking and he raised his hand without feeling his arm move.

"Mr. Potter, why are you standing up?" Snape snapped. "Sit down!"

He didn't know what to do and he was lost. Sirius shouldn't be here, he was dead so he couldn't be here, something was wrong. Snape walked swiftly over to him, those black robes picking up from the sudden wind created by his quick strides.

"Put your hand down you foolish boy, why are you making such a mockery in my class?" Snape spat.

Harry shook his head and he brought his hand down but there was something in it now. He was holding something. He looked down and it was a small square mirror and he knew there was something he should do, something he had to do or Sirius would die…but no…Sirius was already dead…

And the scene had changed and he looked up from the mirror and Snape was standing before him.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Snape asked and his voice echoed throughout the darkness they were in.

The mirror fell from his hand and smashed upon the ground.

_Please help me. _His mind kept thinking over and over. _Sirius will die. You have to help me!_

He couldn't make the words come out as he stared up into those black orbs.

"If you don't find everything you'll never speak again," Snape said.

_I don't know what to do…_ He thought desperately. _Where's Sirius?_

And he was suddenly falling, falling through the world and all around him those papers were lit up with fire and those shards of glass were glistening, reflecting his despair.

* * *

"Harry, _Harry!_"

Harry's eyes quickly opened and they were bombarded by sunlight and he had to squint.

"You have to wake up, mate if you want to have time to eat," Ron was speaking to him as well as shaking him somewhat.

Harry slowly sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes and he was finally awake. Ron gave him a smirk and said:

"You're getting to be worse than me, hurry up."

Harry did hurry as he showered and brushed his teeth and dressed in his uniform wearing a vest instead of a cardigan today. As he was putting on his school shoes he realized it was cloudy outside but the sun was doing its best to break through those clouds. Harry smiled softly as he knew it was going to rain soon. He put on his robes and grabbed his school bag and headed to the common room where he found Ron and Hermione waiting for him.

"Morning," Hermione said. Her hair had a shiny flower barrette clip in it.

Harry smiled in return.

"You seem happy today," Hermione said.

"I have a session today," Harry signed as they waited behind the slight crowd of Gryffindors all making their way out the portrait entrance.

"At school? Your therapist is coming here?" Hermione said in almost a whisper because people were trying to listen to their conversation.

Harry nodded and smiled again.

"Snape told me last night that Dumbledore arranged it," Harry signed.

"That's good, I was wondering what would happen," Hermione said and they climbed out of the room.

"You came back pretty late last night," Ron said. "I can't believe Snape walked you to our common room."

"Ron, it's common courtesy, Harry can't speak the password," Hermione said with a strong glance at him.

"I know…just, different…" Ron muttered.

They sat down for breakfast and Harry ate his cereal and toast quickly and drank down his goblet of pumpkin juice. Hermione had been talking to Parvarti as she ate and Ron and Seamus were discussing Quidditch. It was then that Snape came walking over to the Gryffindor table. Many students had wondering expressions at the scene.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, I trust you are finished with breakfast?" Snape asked quite politely.

Harry nodded and got out of his seat and waved to Ron and Hermione.

"See you Harry," Hermione said and she glanced at Snape but quickly looked away.

"You look quite cheerful today," Snape said as they were walking out of the Great Hall.

Harry really couldn't get himself to stop smiling. Even if he had that bad dream today was a new day and Snape kept being so kind to him; he enjoyed it greatly. As they walked side by side Harry noticed that he had somewhat missed seeing the man in muggle clothing. Professor Snape always dressed in black now with that tight white collar that reminded him of a priest. That long overcoat had too many buttons, even the sleeves had buttons.

"I want you to know," Snape began to say as they walked quickly up the staircase. "I apologized to Ms. Gardiner earlier this morning."

Harry looked up at Snape's face but those eyes were staring straight ahead. They reached the statue of the gargoyle that revealed the moving spiral staircase that lead up to Professor Dumbledore's office.

"The Headmaster is not present at the moment but he informed me that you could have your session in his office," Snape said.

Harry nodded as he stepped onto platform, careful to avoid the large stoned wing of the statue.

"I'll see you in class, Professor," Harry signed.

Snape nodded and reluctantly said: "Pixie Puffs."

Harry smiled at the face the man made and the stairs started to rise and he stepped onto one and was carried all the way up to the door of the Headmaster's office. He opened it and walked inside and smiled brightly at the site of Ms. Gardiner who was standing by Dumbledore's desk. She wore very light blue robes and matching high heels. Even though it had only been a week since he saw her last it felt as if he hadn't seen her for a long time. She smiled softly at the sight of him and she walked forward a few paces and Harry met her half way and they hugged tightly. When they came apart she said happily:

"The uniforms haven't changed, still so proper. Your tie is so straight." she said.

Harry laughed softly and smiled and he quickly signed:

"How are you?"

"I'm very good," Ms. Gardiner said. "I'm sorry about the way things left off last time. I shouldn't have taken you to the museum."

"No, it's fine," Harry signed. "I'm just sorry Snape over reacted."

"You had a fight with him?" She seemed to already know the answer.

"He was really angry but so was I, I really hated that he insulted you," Harry signed. "But he's been a lot nicer since then."

Ms. Gardiner just continued to smile and then she said:

"So are you doing alright?"

Harry nodded and signed in reply:

"It was hard at first, people are still staring and talking about me all the time and it's still really nerve wracking to be around a lot of people but I'm getting better. It's been easier because Snape's really helpful. He's teaching me how to use nonverbal spells. I thought he would be really impatient with me but no, he's been quite nice."

"You're a good influence," Ms. Gardiner said and Harry gave her a questioning look as he didn't understand what that meant but she didn't elaborate. She began to look around the office.

"I remember coming here when I was a Second Year," Ms. Gardiner said.

"Were you in trouble?" Harry signed.

"Yes I was, I punched a boy right in the nose," Ms. Gardiner said. "Professor Dumbledore never became cross, no, it was much worse."

"He gets that disappointed look," Harry signed.

"Exactly," Ms. Gardiner said. "We should take a walk; it'll be nice to see everything again."

Harry nodded and tightened the strap on his book bag. They left the office and walked at a slow, relaxing pace.

"Have you had much homework?" Ms. Gardiner asked as she looked down at him.

"Yeah," Harry answered in sign. "Everyone's struggling with nonverbal spells and I have a Transfiguration essay to do. I'm sure it will get much worse seeing as how this is only the first week."

"Are you excited to play Quidditch again?"

Harry nodded.

"We have to build up a whole new team though," he signed. "Everyone's graduated besides the new captain."

"I'll come to your first match," Ms. Gardiner said. "I miss watching it."

They were walking down to the first floor and towards the entrance hall.

"Oh this brings back so many memories," Ms. Gardiner said as she looked around. "I graduated the year before you were a First Year here. I wouldn't think Professor Snape would remember me though, I never liked Potions and I had poor attendance, I chose not to sit my O.W.L."

"You don't think he remembers you?" Harry signed.

"Not at all," she answered. "I always thought he was mean. He never smiled. He was quite new to the school; he was my age when I started at Hogwarts."

"You knew the twenty three year old Snape?" Harry signed.

"Yes and despite being young he was as strict as ever," Ms. Gardiner replied as they made their way out onto the grounds and the cold morning wind hit Harry's face.

It was hard to imagine Snape during his first years as a teacher but Harry had seen the man when he was a student. He found himself thinking of who exactly the man was and just what parts of his life made him the way he had been besides the fact that Harry's father and Snape were vicious enemies.

They had come to the Black Lake and Harry stared at the clouds that were reflected in the water.

"I used to sit by this lake all the time…" Ms. Gardiner said. "We'd go swimming when the school year was ending. It was always nice when exams were over."

"I like sitting by it too…" Harry signed.

There was silence despite the sounds of groups of students here and there about the grounds. Harry turned to stare at Hagrid's Hut and wondered when his classes took place. He waited as if Ms. Gardiner were going to give him something to do. This session was much different than being with her in her office. He wondered if they would do any sort of exercise today but she kept staring out onto the lake and Harry knew she was remembering things. He had a lot of memories too in this place; he was already a 6th Year, next year would be the end of his schooling…

"It's going to get very cold soon and the rains will start," Ms. Gardiner said softly.

Harry nodded. He was starting to space out; he could feel himself go as he let his thoughts drift away with the cold wind that passed around them but he fought against it. He turned to Ms. Gardiner and she was now looking at him. Harry blinked.

"My friends…they've all started to learn sign language," Harry signed almost numbly.

"That's wonderful but I wouldn't expect any less from them if they're your friends," she said and she smiled gently. "Harry, is anything worrying you?"

Harry waited. If he dwelled on it there were a lot of things that were worrying him: Voldemort, Snape, not being able to speak and the ache that was always there in his chest.

"Just…things I can't really do anything about…" Harry signed. "I…I still can't think about him…without it hurting…It hurts a lot still." He felt the sting in his eyes so he stopped.

"I understand, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said. "But you need to try to keep being happy, ok? Don't tell Professor Snape I told you this but I really think he hates it when you're not happy."

Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks and he looked away quickly. He shook his head slightly and then smiled sheepishly. Her laugh was soft and then she said:

"Let's go back; I'm sure you have class soon."

So they walked back to the castle with the same leisurely pace.

"I have some homework for you Harry," Ms. Gardiner said as her high heels clicked on the stoned floor. "I want you to take some time and write a list for me; a list of things that you like about yourself."

Harry felt confused for a moment as he stared at the floor and watched his school shoes come into view with each step forward.

"I want you to have it ready for me to read for our next session," she continued. "And that's it. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded but he really didn't know what exactly she was asking for or maybe he really didn't know the answer to the question: What do you like about yourself? They had turned down a corridor and were getting closer to the statue of the stoned gargoyle when someone was walking in the opposite direction. Harry realized it was Professor Royle and he wore a dark green vest with black buttons this time and the same rich looking dark navy blue robes and boot-looking dress shoes. He had his hands in his pockets and was chewing gum again. When those gray eyes looked up he stopped in his tracks for some reason. Royle stood right in front of them and Ms. Gardiner had stopped just as abruptly as well. She was looking right at the tall man and she wasn't smiling but rather looking somewhat serious and surprised.

"Sophia…" was all Professor Royle said and it was then that Ms. Gardiner turned to Harry and said quickly but gently:

"You should hurry to class Harry. Take care and I'll see you with that list next Wednesday."

Then she walked so quickly straight ahead, passed Professor Royle without once glancing at him. Harry felt perplexed and he watched Royle. His face was different, it was somber and those gray eyes held something painful in a way. And then without looking at Harry he went on his way as well, just as quickly as Ms. Gardiner had done. Harry stood there looking once at Ms. Gardiner's back and then at Royle's and he had no idea of what had just happened.

* * *

As Harry sat in Charms next to Ron not hearing a thing Professor Flitwick was lecturing about he couldn't stop thinking about Ms. Gardiner and Professor Royle. Something had happened between them, he knew that much because Royle had seemed that he had known her and judging by his looks he was probably 23 or 24 and Ms. Gardiner was 23 so that would mean that they had been at Hogwarts together. Maybe they had been boyfriend and girlfriend. A Ravenclaw with a Slytherin? Harry didn't find it likely but he couldn't be for sure since there had probably been a few relationships like that whether they were friends or more than just friends.

Harry absent mindedly stared at the back of Lavender Brown's head as he was trying to build on his theory. Maybe someone's heart got broken? Or maybe both hearts were broken? Oh why was he thinking about this, he should be taking notes. But it was intriguing and he was curious like always which he should really be trying not to be since nothing good ever happened when his curiosity got the better of him, mostly. Harry didn't realize he had been twiddling his wand in his hand as he thought it over. It had been a very strange thing to witness. Ms. Gardiner did look somewhat upset.

"And just like you have been practicing with the Aguamenti Charm you need to be able to perform these spells nonverbally," Professor Flitwick was saying in his high pitched voice.

Harry was lost in thought has he held his wand. He really should be practicing the Aguamenti Charm since basically all of the class had perfected it while saying the incantation.

_It shouldn't be that hard. All I have to do is think of what it looks like and say Aguamenti in my head._

There was a scream at the same time Harry jumped in his seat. A burst of water had come out of Harry's wand and it hadn't been just a little, it had been like a mini waterfall which had splashed all over Lavender Brown. Ron jolted awake in his seat next to Harry.

"What's going on?" he asked sleepily as the scene before him was taking place.

Harry stared wide eyed at Lavender as he dropped his wand and the whole class was looking over at them and Lavender Brown had gotten up, drenched and her school books and notes were drenched as well. Her hair band's ribbon was lopsided and the sight of her was quite comical.

"I…I'm so sorry," Harry signed quickly as Lavender Brown was giving him a death glare with her mouth open as if ready to scream at him.

"Well done Mr. Potter!" Flitwick congratulated him. "Ten points to Gryffindor for successfully demonstrating how to use the Aguamenti Charm nonverbally!"

"Professor!" Lavender cried as she swiftly turned sending water droplets everywhere that came from her soaking hair.

"Oh Ms. Brown, a quick drying charm will put everything right, don't fret," Professor Flitwick called to her.

Lavender sat back down in her chair hotly as she crossed her arms. Parvarti, who was to her right, began performing the drying charm on her clothes and books as she was trying not to laugh. Harry sat there red in the face as Ron still looked a bit flabbergasted. Harry heard a small laugh and he turned to where Hermione sat at the table next to theirs. She was smiling as she was still taking notes and had her left hand over her mouth somewhat to hide her laugh. Harry couldn't help it as he smiled and laughed secretly. He thought though from now on he should be careful to pay attention to what he was thinking and to not treat his wand in such a way.

* * *

"So how was your session, Harry?" Hermione asked cheerfully as she served herself a sandwich and some salad. Hermione and Ron sat across from him.

It was lunch time now and Harry had been writing down a small list of the homework he had to do: A Charms essay, a Transfiguration essay and the list Ms. Gardiner wanted him to do.

"We just talked and walked around the school," Harry signed. "She wants me to make a list of things I like about myself."

"Well that should be easy," Ron joined in and he took a big bite of his sandwich.

Harry tilted his head somewhat as he stared at his notebook that was open to the calendar section.

"What does that mean though?" Harry asked in sign.

Ron gave him a look and Hermione did as well.

"Things you like about yourself," Hermione said with emphasis.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Like what though?" Harry signed again.

Hermione shook her head somewhat and gave him another confused look.

"You know, like things about your personality, your looks, what you're good at," Hermione listed as she held her fork in her right hand.

Harry didn't like the way Ron and Hermione were looking at him; they both had on expressions that told Harry he should be understanding something that was supposed to be obvious. Things that he was good at, things about his looks, things about his personality…Harry looked to each of them again and looked down at his fountain pen with those engraved letters that said his name.

"Do I have low self-esteem?" Harry finally signed after the moment of awkwardness.

Hermione pressed her lips together as if she was trying to stop herself from answering right away and Ron looked somewhat nervous as he slowly chewed his food.

"I do, don't I?" Harry signed quickly as he was growing anxious and a bit frantic.

"I wouldn't say it was low…" Hermione muttered gradually. "Just…limited…" Her eyes sort of looked up and to the left.

"Limited?" Harry's hands smacked together as he was growing angry now.

"Come on mate," Ron said. "You always deny it when someone compliments you and you always put yourself down."

"You do that too," Harry signed and he clenched his jaw.

"Yeah but…I know I'm not the best at Quidditch but I'm better than quite a few people who tried out. But you, you're the best Seeker this school's got."

"No I'm not," Harry signed automatically and then quickly looked down because he had just proven himself wrong.

"I think Ms. Gardiner realized the way you think of yourself isn't what it should be," Hermione said. "That's why she has you doing this list."

Harry felt disheveled as he sat there now feeling irritated. So he had low self-esteem, was it that big of a deal? Ms. Gardiner obviously thought it was though. It wasn't as if he didn't agree when people complimented him or maybe it was but wouldn't that make you conceited or full of yourself or something?

"You just have to think of things Harry," Hermione said. "Ask me what I like about you."

"What do you like about me?" Harry signed hesitantly.

"You're very kind and sweet and helpful," Hermione was listing. "You're handsome, you're generous, you have very nice eyes…"

Harry quickly sat up straight and made the sign for "Time out." His face was burning all the way up to ears.

"See?" Hermione said. "This is always your reaction."

Harry was gripping at his notepad as he glared at her. He couldn't write those things down for the list! That would be weird.

Ron was suddenly looking a bit agitated.

"Alright, if this is what we're doing, what do you like about me Hermione?" Ron asked angrily.

It was Hermione's turn to go red in the face and she began to laugh but it sounded forced.

"Don't be silly, Ronald," Hermione said as she looked away from him.

"I'm not being silly!" Ron snapped.

Harry glared at his friends and he was once again annoyed by their behavior; both of them needed to just get on with it already. Harry clapped his hands together and Ron and Hermione were both brought out of their bickering.

"Excuse me, but we've gone a bit off topic," Harry signed.

"Sorry," Hermione said. "But it is like I said, Harry. You need to realize these things for yourself because it's called _self_-esteem. You have a week to get the list done so I think you need to take the time to work on figuring it out."

Harry nodded as he let his head fall. He closed his notebook and put it back into his school bag along with his pen. He ate slowly as he tried to think of ways he could work on his self-esteem. He did believe in himself it was just he really didn't care too much at what he looked like or if people complimented him. He grew frustrated and decided not to focus on the matter at the moment.

* * *

"I do hope everyone who I assigned an essay to has completed it," Snape said lightly. "Present it to me now."

Harry sat with his notebook open and a quill in his hand. The dungeon classroom was cold. Snape was standing in front of his desk waiting as students brought their essays up to him and took them quickly. Hermione was seated next to him as she had her hands folded.

"You didn't do the essay?" she whispered.

Harry felt a small wave of panic go through him. Harry shook his head. He didn't want to make up some lie nor did he want to tell her that Snape had said he didn't have to do it. She gave him a disapproving look but didn't say anything more.

"Today's instructions are simple," Snape announced as he had collected all of the essays. "You will copy down some notes and then work in partners and attempt to correctly brew the truth potion, _Veritaserum_. Once completed you will hand in a small sample of your work to be graded." Snape took out his wand and walked over to the large black board and tapped it. The notes they were meant to copy appeared in white chalk. "If you have any questions ask and I will assist you."

Harry began to take down the notes in his Potions notebook as neatly as he could.

"Professor Snape has been…" Hermione whispered to him as she wrote. She had paused. "He's been nice…"

Harry turned to her and shrugged somewhat. He returned to copying down the notes. He tried not to think of why Snape's behavior towards the class was different or better.

_I can't influence him…_ Harry thought as he had stopped writing. _I mean…he is nice to me but I don't know how that would actually help him around other people…I am…kind to him too but…_

"Pay attention, Mr. Potter," Snape had suddenly come into his vision as the man's index finger tapped his notebook.

Harry looked up and expected the man to look cross like in his dream but Snape was smirking at him and he continued on his usual walk around the classroom to make sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to do. Harry hated the heat that would always rise in his face when he was caught off guard by the man.

When everyone was done copying the notes down the Potions room was filled with its familiar sounds of students getting to work with their cauldrons. It wasn't often Snape let them work in pairs but Harry was grateful for it because he couldn't stop the anxiety he felt when he was in a classroom. He always felt that someone was watching him at any given time and he heard their whispers. Hermione set to work and Harry was sure to focus on each step in the book.

Hermione was very efficient at making the potion and she seemed to be in such a concentrated state that he doubted she was even paying attention to him. But he was allowed to hand the ingredients to her as she measured and weighed them and he was allowed to do the stirring. He was bored most of the time but he kept his attentiveness. Snape had returned to his desk and Harry noticed that he was grading the essays and was looking rather _not_ interested. When class was almost over their potion turned out just right having the clear, water-like appearance and now all it would need was one lunar phase to mature. Hermione carefully used a dropper to put the small sample of their potion in a vial and as Harry held the vial she wrote down their names on a piece of colored tape and stuck it to the vial.

"Excellent," she said. She walked over to the small line that had formed before Snape's desk as students were handing in their samples to Snape who placed them one by one in a special holder. Harry waited as the class settled back into their seats and Snape picked up a small stack of papers on his desk.

"These are your exams from Monday," Professor Snape said. "I've graded them and made the necessary corrections to grammar as well as detail and useless dribble." He tapped the exams with his wand and they flew out to their proper owners.

Harry caught his quickly and then looked down expecting to see a big T on it but instead there was a neat A for Acceptable. Snape had also written in his own answers to every single question and at the top of the page after Harry realized he had not put his name on his exam Snape had even written: Harry Potter, 6th Year N.E.W.T. Potions. Harry didn't understand as he read through Professor Snape's neat handwriting. But his eyes kept going back to his name, specifically how Snape had written **Harry**. He placed a finger over it and swiped it gently across. He didn't know why his chest tightened somewhat. He felt such a feeling rise within him. It was just a name but Snape had written it, his name; the name he never called him by.

"Your homework is to make an outlined terms and references of chapters two and three of your text book, to be turned in on Monday," Snape announced. "I will see you all next week."

Everyone got up and cleaned off their work benches and made their way out of the room but Harry stayed.

"Aren't you coming?" Hermione asked as she slung her heavy book bag over her shoulder.

"In a minute," Harry managed to sign as he was holding his exam paper.

Hermione nodded and made her way to the door.

Snape was sitting at his desk organizing his essay and looked up at Harry as he came over him. Harry placed the exam down on the desk.

"What happened to not giving me special treatment?" Harry signed.

Snape eyed the paper for a second then looked Harry directly in the eyes.

"Is this your Gryffindor nobility Mr. Potter?" Snape asked and he sat down in his desk chair.

Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks again. He really wished he could control this sudden action.

"No…" Harry signed. "But…I don't deserve an Acceptable; I didn't even write…my name down…" And Harry felt the tightness in his chest again and he suddenly wished he hadn't come up to Snape to talk about the paper as he felt embarrassed because he had felt such a nice feeling at the sight of his name that Snape had written.

"This is my class Mr. Potter," Snape said in that velvety profound voice. "I can do whatever I want with exam papers, I could have been cruel and given you a Troll but I didn't _feel_ like it."

Harry didn't know what to say as he took up his exam paper. Snape seemed to be in a really nice mood today.

"Sit, we'll talk," Snape said.

Harry obeyed as he sat down on the wooden stool by Snape's desk.

"How was your session this morning?" Snape asked.

"It was fine," Harry signed. "We took a walk; Ms. Gardiner seemed to want to see the school…"

Harry waited and he wanted to tell Professor Snape something else but he knew he shouldn't.

"What is it, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"It's nothing, I shouldn't…" Harry began to sign but Snape interjected:

"Say what you want to say, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked down at his hands and then took in a breath and signed:

"Ms. Gardiner…she was in school…while you were teaching…She said you probably don't remember her," Harry signed.

"I do not remember her…" Snape quickly replied. Harry wondered if the man had even tried to remember her. It made him wonder what the 11 year old Ms. Gardiner was like.

He wanted to ask Snape: Why did he become a teacher? Why was he always so strict? But he knew he could not ask such things, there was a boundary between them: what was allowed and what wasn't and he shouldn't confuse the two. But he did ask one question:

"Professor, how are you?" Harry signed. Harry couldn't remember if he had ever directed that question at Professor Snape before though he felt like he should because he did care how the man was feeling and he knew Snape was a man who handled many things.

Snape looked at him and those dark eyes softened to some extent.

"I'm perfectly fine Mr. Potter, thank you for asking," he answered.

And somehow as Harry sat there before the man in this cold classroom he knew that Snape was telling the truth.

* * *

"You just stand there and I'm going to try to disarm you," Harry signed to Ron.

They were in the common room as Harry stood there without his robes on and Ron stood before him with his wand in hand. Hermione was on her knees on the couch watching them. There were few people in the common room but those who were now watched the two boys intently.

"Right," Ron nodded. "Give it a go."

Harry took his wand from his pocket and concentrated hard on Ron's wand and with a swift movement of his wrist and the loud thought of _Expelliarmus! _the sudden burst of red light shot out from Harry's wand and hit Ron in his midriff and he was thrown back a couple of feet and landed on his back and his wand had flown out of his right hand and landed before Harry's feet. The few Gryffindors in the room had gasped but Seamus had cheered.

"Ron!" Hermione said as she hurried over to his side.

Harry's eyes were wide as he too rushed over to him.

"Are you ok?" Hermione said.

"You could have warned me Harry!" Ron said as he let out a groan and sat up slowly.

"But I told you I couldn't disarm Snape," Harry signed quickly as Ron was looking at him with one eye closed shut as he rubbed his stomach. "I don't…understand. How could I all of a sudden do it so quickly?"

"Maybe you just needed a bit more practice," Hermione said as she helped Ron to his feet. "You can try it on me but don't concentrate so hard so you can just disarm me not throw me back."

Harry hesitated and then nodded and got to his feet. Hermione took Ron's place as she stood there with her wand out now. Harry focused and didn't concentrate as hard and he thought _Expelliarmus! _again with the swift movement of his wrist and Hermione's wand flung itself out of her hand.

Harry stood there and crossed his arms as he thought over what had gone wrong in Snape's office. Maybe it was because he wasn't tired now? Harry could only guess as he handed back Hermione's wand and Ron's.

"Well…this is good though," Harry signed. "Because I can disarm people now."

Hermione gave him a small smile.

"Let's go eat, I'm starving," Ron said grumpily.

* * *

Harry ate his dinner of roast chicken and asparagus with baked potatoes in a rush and drank quickly from his goblet.

"You're eager," Ron said through a mouthful of potato.

Harry realized that he had been leaving quite quickly from the dinner table these past three days since his lessons had started.

"Snape takes points if I'm late…" Harry signed and felt bad that he had told the small lie.

Ron nodded however.

"See you later, Harry," Hermione and Ron said at the same time and then looked at each other and Hermione blushed and Ron looked sheepish.

Harry waved and tried not to run off as he left the table. He waited till he had left the Great Hall to run to the dungeons.

"Was someone chasing you again, Potter?" Snape asked sarcastically when he had opened the door to his office and took in the sight of Harry who was a bit out of breath.

Harry shook his head no.

"I have something to show you," Harry signed quickly as he entered the office and there was a nice warm fire crackling in the fireplace.

"And what would that be?" Snape asked as he watched Harry stand a few feet in front of him. Snape stood in front of his desk.

"I'm going to disarm you," Harry signed and he was smiling and he took out his wand.

"Really?" Snape said lightly and took out his own wand.

Harry focused on Snape's wand as the man waited and then with flick of his wrist as he held his wand out he said the spell in his head and felt the feeling of triumph began to fill him up but Snape's wand still remained in his hand. The feeling of triumph vanished quickly. Harry's face scrunched up somewhat in a confused expression. What had happened?

"Mr. Potter…" Snape began.

"I don't understand," Harry signed.

"What is it?"

"I was able to do it on both Ron and Hermione; I even knocked Ron off his feet..." Harry signed quickly. "But…it's not working on you…Why can't I disarm you?"

Snape waited for a moment as he was giving Harry an intent look.

"Mr. Potter, disarm me," Snape ordered.

"But I can't, I don't know what's wrong," Harry signed.

"Do as I say, Mr. Potter, disarm me _now_," Snape's voice was slightly harsh this time.

Harry was beginning to grow agitated.

"I can't," Harry signed forcibly.

"Disarm me!" Snape snapped.

"What…" Harry started to sign.

"Do it!"

"No…" Harry signed.

"Don't say no to me. Disarm me. Disarm me or I'll jinx you," Snape looked cross now.

"I…" Harry pointed to himself.

"You have three seconds," Snape pointed his wand at Harry swiftly. "One…two..."

Harry quickly brought up his wand and flicked his wrist and thought:

_Expelliarmus!_

Snape's wand flung itself up in the air and Harry didn't know why he reached up and grabbed it so it didn't hit the floor.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," Snape said.

Harry looked to Snape and he didn't look angry but content. There was silence for a moment.

"You're intimidated by me," Snape said as he walked over to Harry and Harry's heart sped up slightly as he was now looking up at the man. Those dark eyes examined him thoroughly. Harry felt his head nod to Snape's statement.

"It's understandable," Snape said and he slowly took his wand back from Harry and it slid softly from his hand. Harry realized he had stopped breathing.

"So…you're not angry?" Harry signed with trembling hands.

Snape turned around on his heel and he replied coolly:

"You should know Mr. Potter; I find it very hard these days to feel even the slightest bit of annoyance towards you."

Harry didn't move as he felt like he had been duped, almost teased.

"Come sit," Snape said and Harry hated that his legs moved automatically to comply with the man's command.

He sat down and Snape left the room through the door at the far wall like always and moments later returned with a tray of tea for them and butter cookies. He set the tray down gently and sat in his chair. Harry took a cookie slowly as he gave Snape a cautious look.

"I saw you at lunch, Mr. Potter," Snape began in such a conversational tone. "You looked quite troubled by something. May I ask what it was you were so flustered over?"

Harry swallowed the cookie hard as he suddenly felt alarmed and embarrassed.

"Yes, you looked exactly like that," Snape said simply and he drank from his tea cup lightly.

He couldn't believe how forward the man was being with him tonight, it was almost rude and he knew he was suddenly very timid and he wished his cheeks would stop burning.

"Aren't I going to get an answer?" Snape asked as he set the cup down.

Harry wanted to tell the man of course not but he could tell Snape wouldn't let it go. Harry breathed in deeply and then breathed out gently.

"Ms. Gardiner asked me to do something…" Harry signed. "She wants me to make a list…of…"

Harry looked down quickly as his hands had stopped.

"Of _what?_" Snape pushed at him.

"Of…things that I like about myself…" Harry signed reluctantly.

"And have you started on this list?" the man asked.

Harry shook his head after a moment. His hands gripped his knees.

"My friends…said she wants me to make the list because…" Harry signed but he really didn't want to finish the sentence.

"Because you have low self-esteem," Snape finished it for him.

Harry quickly looked to Snape's face and it was calm and composed.

"Can you really not think of one thing you like about yourself?" Snape said.

"I'm…a good friend…most of the time…" Harry's trembling hands signed but he didn't look Snape in the eyes.

"Do you really not like yourself, Mr. Potter?" Snape's words were enticing somehow.

"I…" He pointed to himself once more but Harry really couldn't answer and he started to feel pathetic.

"And here this place is full of so many people who do like you," Snape said.

Harry didn't reply as he stared at his hands on his knees. He didn't know where the bravery had come from, the courage but his hands moved on their own and Harry's eyes were fearful despite his boldness as he signed:

"What…do you like about me?"

There was silence besides the crackling fire.

"Don't look so sad Mr. Potter," Snape said gently.

Harry blinked but he couldn't lift his eyes to look at Snape.

"When I could no longer see your father in place before you…I didn't really know who I was looking at," Snape's words were kindhearted and that voice was strong despite how low in volume it was. Harry listened nervously. "But then I began to see you, I began to know you and things were very obvious. You're extremely kind, you're honest; you have a very noble heart Mr. Potter."

Harry really couldn't believe Snape was saying these things to him and his face was burning. He looked up at Snape and the man seemed like he wanted to continue but he didn't.

"Thank you…" Harry signed. He was sort of proud that he didn't deny Snape's compliments.

"It's the truth Mr. Potter, you don't need to thank me for it," Snape replied. "Make sure you write those things down on that list."

Harry nodded slowly.

"I should walk you to your dorm now," Snape said as he stood up.

They walked together to Gryffindor Tower and Harry didn't know why his heart was practically skipping over itself. Snape was so very different to him now and he felt happy that he was. He liked the man's presence, he liked how he spoke to him, how kind he was to him and Harry was nervous because he liked these things. What was this sudden feeling that had bloomed in his heart?

* * *

**I hope everyone is still reading. If you are, thank you for your support and I hope you review and I hope everyone is doing well.**


	21. Chapter 20: Truth Behind the Riddle

**Some text is used from Book 5 and Book 6. Some dialogue has been used from Movie 6.**

* * *

**Chapter 20: Truth Behind the Riddle**

It was the soft beating of drums that filled his senses in this darkness. He was walking so fast he could have been running, running through these painted shadows on high walls. He knew he was looking for someone, looking almost desperately but no matter where he would turn he could not meet whoever he was looking for. His heart felt heavy; weighted down by distress and fear. He needed to find this someone because losing them would be unbearable and he would be left to live in this agonizing world where all innocence and beauty was lost.

His legs carried him and his eyes kept looking this way and that through the opaque shadows of black. He caught a glimpse of a small hand and that was it but he made haste to reach this person who kept getting away from him. It was maddening to be within this place; a maze with no end in sight. The beating became quicker and more immense in volume. He prayed to the oblivion that he would be able get his hands on this precious treasure.

And after an eternity of searching as the drums' beat was so loud yet so distant his eyes were barraged with a light. He wandered over to it as it grew brighter and brighter, bleeding, spilling into the shadows. He could barely make out what was emitting the light. It was a person, the person he called; a boy, standing in the luminescence. The boy was looking at him, straight at him with such blue eyes that pierced through the pallid light and it was _so_ bright it made his own eyes burn but he would not close them, he would not lose sight of this person. How could someone so dark like himself be given someone so divine?

Severus awoke in the early hours of the morning. He lay there in the warmth of the silk blankets for long moments remembering the dream he had just had. He had never had such a dream before and hadn't remembered a dream in a long time. Severus gave in knowing he wouldn't get anymore sleep this Thursday morning so he sat up in bed. He brushed a hand through his hair. He would rather fast forward through his day; he had no desire to clean up exploding cauldrons or repeat instructions over and over to incompetent preteens.

And this sudden dream he had, it had been about Potter. He had never presumed he would ever have a dream involving the boy. It had been so torturous to him, to every inch of him and he felt such warm sensations at the tips of his fingers. That light had felt so real, surrounding Potter in such a way, vibrating with an abrupt life and it had filled Severus with such a feeling of hope. It was almost too much for him to take and he always found himself wondering now what Potter was up to and trying not to think if the boy was wondering the same thing.

* * *

"That's a dementor," Seamus's voice came to Harry's ears and he realized he had been spacing out again.

"And that's a piece of candy for you," Professor Royle said as he walked over to Seamus and held out the large packet and Seamus took a piece of gum out of the bag happily.

The Defense classroom was dark as the windows' shutters were closed but Harry could still hear the pounding rain outside. The large projector was rolling away with its slight clicking noises as it was turned on in the back of the class and the white screen held the image of a dementor. They had begun the class with roll call done lazily by Professor Royle and he kept mixing up students' names and just wound up pointing at people.

Then he had moved on to having them copy down a few new defensive spells and their definitions and the proper way to perform them and gave a brief announcement on how they needed to practice nonverbal spells. Now they were playing a game of sorts; the projector would show a slide and if one of the students was able to answer it correctly they were rewarded with candy. Harry wondered why a grown man and a teacher would carry around a bag of candy in a class full of sixteen year olds.

Another slide was shown and Hermione raised her hand quickly. Her desk was filled with candy as she had answered several questions already; Harry knew she didn't actually want the candy as she kept passing it around to Parvarti, Dean, Harry and Ron; she just always had to be right. Royle shot a finger at her quickly.

"He's under the Imperius Curse," Hermione answered easily.

"Very good," Professor Royle said and tossed up a candy in the air and Harry caught it before it hit the desk and let it fall before Hermione.

They continued like this for a few more minutes and then the slides ended and Professor Royle made the bag of treats vanish and turned off the projector with a flick of his wand. Royle waved his wand up and the shudders of the windows opened and the classroom was filled with gloomy daylight but the windows were spattered with rain. Harry had been aware of Professor Royle's lethargy today. The man's energy had been toned down a bit since their first class with him. As Harry sat there he guessed it was because of what had happened with Ms. Gardiner. He couldn't stop how inquisitive he was about this sudden matter. It was a mystery and Harry had always had a knack for wanting to solve mysteries. It reminded him of his first year at Hogwarts and how he desperately wanted to know what the trapped door was hiding.

"Now, everyone listen up," Professor Royle announced as he leaned back against his desk. "Next week we are meeting up in the Great Hall for dueling lessons so make sure you remember not to come here."

There was a soft murmur about the classroom as everyone seemed enthused about Royle's notice. Hermione was making the small note in her planner.

"I'll let you out a little early today, I want you all to read chapters one through three for homework, off you get," Royle said.

Harry began to pack his things back into his bag a long with the rest of the class. The day seemed to be drifting a long quite easily and at a fast pace. He was glad that Royle meant what he had said when they wouldn't be having anymore scavenger hunts but he doubted the man didn't have anything else just as fanatic planned for them in the future. It was just in the man's eyes. Royle's eyes always looked as if they were tired or strained despite his laid back personality and childish antics. Harry couldn't help but think that there really was something he was hiding. But what was it to him to understand this new Professor? But there was one person he did want to get to know but doubted if he would ever be allowed and that was Snape. He had come to realize that despite being taught by the man for five years he really knew very little about him and yet he felt as if he understood him in some way; Harry didn't know if that was possible.

"Potter, can I have a chat with you?" Royle said as he had come over to Harry's desk as Harry had stood up.

Harry wondered if this chat would involve his assistant position.

"See you, Harry," Hermione said and she left with Ron and the rest of the class.

Harry waited as Royle was looking over him for a few seconds before saying:

"So…that woman you were with…she's helping you find your voice?"

Harry found the way Royle had worded the question very strange since he already knew Ms. Gardiner's first name.

Harry nodded. He got out his notepad and pen quickly but Royle said:

"No, I know sign language, you don't need that."

Harry's curiosity perked up at the new found information. He had a good enough guess where exactly he had learned sign language from. Harry put his notepad and pen away.

"When…do you meet with her?" Royle seemed hesitant.

"Every Wednesday morning," Harry signed in reply.

"Right…" was all Royle said.

"Do…you know her, Professor?" Harry signed.

Royle looked Harry over again and said:

"We were…acquaintances…"

Harry wanted to find out more but Royle didn't seemed like he would tell him more. Royle put a heavy hand on Harry's head and said:

"If anyone can help you Potter, it's her." Then he tousled Harry's hair roughly and walked off to the door.

Harry stared at the man's back not moving except for his hand on his head trying to fix his hair. Professor Royle really was something.

* * *

"You haven't written anything down yet, Harry?" Hermione asked him.

Harry shook his head slowly as it was resting against his hand. He was staring down at the piece of parchment where he had written:

_Things That I Like About Myself_

There was nothing under it yet. Harry felt like his brain just didn't want to comply with the question and he was growing frustrated. His mind kept thinking of what Snape had said but every time he tried to write it down his heart would speed up suddenly and his hands would tremble worse than usual. Why had he asked Snape such a question? The man hadn't been angry at all with him for it but spoke to him in such a careful manner. He felt very lost on the subject of Snape at the moment and he wished he didn't have to write this list at all. It felt like a great challenge and he would rather face another Hungarian Horntail.

Harry stretched with his arms held up and his pen in his hand. He decided he would leave the list for later as he slipped it back into his bag. He took a look around the table and was a bit surprised to see even more BSL books out and they belonged to people he didn't really know. It was sort of surreal because he had even seen a few Hufflepuff 6th Years with books.

"Hey you two," Katie Bell said looking somewhat stern said as she sat herself next to Ron. "Just want to let you know I plan to hold Quidditch tryouts at four on Monday, I want to get started early, I hope it's not raining though."

Harry nodded and Ron looked slightly glum.

"Don't worry," Harry signed and smiled big at his best friend.

Ron gave him a smirk.

"So how's Professor Royle been with you Sixth Years?" Katie asked. "Does he give you candy as a reward for answering questions?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "He's alright at teaching I suppose, he knows what he's talking about but…he sort of treats us like children."

"And acts like a child himself sometimes," Ron said. "But…he does get a little bit…spooky at some points. When he talked about the Cruciatus Curse today…I got chills…"

Harry watched Hermione roll her eyes at Ron's comment and then went back to reading her Ancient Runes textbook. He then glanced at the staff table but Snape wasn't there; he wondered if the man ate in his office at times or wherever he stayed during the school year. Harry had started to wonder what Snape did when he wasn't teaching his classes and he couldn't stop wondering.

After Harry finished lunch they headed to Transfiguration where they spent the class period practicing rather long enchantments for human transfiguration and taking even more notes on the subject. This time Harry really paid attention to the questions Hermione asked and took down Professor McGonagall's answers. Human transfiguration was much more difficult than turning birds into water goblets or vanishing iguanas. Ron had even started to take notes a bit more efficiently because Hermione had told him more than once that she wasn't going to help him with his Transfiguration essay.

The rain had not ceased and Harry felt as if they were being submerged in it because it was pouring so horribly outside. As he sat next to Hermione who was asking yet another complex question he thought of how much he missed summer and something in his mind told him that it wasn't summer that he missed, it was just how much time he was allowed to spend with Snape. They were in a school setting now and could not speak to each other the way they had spoken alone and that made Harry feel as if he were hiding something from everyone he knew. If it was wrong he couldn't find it within himself to care because as he sat there remembering the night in the hospital and not listening to Professor McGonagall a voice in his head, he couldn't tell if it was his own, said that he was happy when he was with Snape.

* * *

The sudden flash of lightning and the sound of thunder made Harry jump in his seat at dinner as did many students in the Great Hall. Harry had spent his time before dinner working on his Charms essay and Transfiguration essay as well as Snape's homework and that was when the storm had started. The winds made the windows in Gryffindor Tower shake and the sky had been lit up by the burst of lightning that was born in it. He had seen many storms during his schooling at Hogwarts but for some reason the thunder kept making him flinch and even jump at times causing Ron to poke fun at him. He really didn't know why it set such a reaction from his body.

Harry ate slower tonight and the warm tomato soup felt good since the castle was getting colder every passing hour. The Great Hall was once again full of chatter and Harry had Parvarti, Seamus, Dean, the Creevey brothers, Ginny, and Neville signing to him as they practiced. Harry had been somewhat amazed at how fast they were all learning or maybe they had just been studying very hard. Even Lavender had finally forgiven him for the incident in Charms and kept signing simple phrases like pass the pepper or butter or rolls. Harry said his goodbyes to everyone and hurried to the dungeons. He pulled his robes closer to him as he descended the long spiral staircases. The chill was much worse down here.

"You're shivering," was the first thing Snape said when he opened the office door. "Inside, it's much better in here."

Harry hurried inside and the warmness of Snape's dungeon office felt nice against his cold cheeks and nose. There was one thing Harry noticed as he looked at Professor Snape; the man's eyes looked tired. A sudden feeling of concern etched its way up in his chest and he was surprised by it.

"Sit by the fire, once you get warm we will start," Snape said as he took the chair Harry always sat in and moved it and set it close to the fireplace.

Harry sat down and the sudden heat against his hands tickled.

"How…how was your day?"

Harry looked to the man as Snape stood there and he noticed that he seemed slightly tense and there had been hesitation in his voice. The question as strange as it was coming from Snape was even stranger because usually Snape never stuttered when he spoke. None the less Harry signed:

"It was fine…gloomy with all this rain."

"And your classes?" Snape continued.

Harry wished the man would sit down. The whole room seemed to be filling up with tension.

"They went by really quick…It was hard to walk to Herbology…with the rain…" he signed a bit slowly. Harry really hated how he kept mentioning the rain. What was going on? This was very bizarre, the whole scene of it all with the man just standing there looking as if he were thinking of what next to ask Harry.

"How are you doing with homework?"

Harry couldn't take it anymore, he just couldn't. He had no idea of why Snape was acting this way, it wasn't like him and it was making Harry more than uncomfortable.

"You look tired," Harry signed wanting nothing more than to break Snape's line of questions. And before he could stop himself he signed: "Did you not get enough sleep?"

What was he doing? He felt trapped in this cycle of questions that Snape had started. He was used to the man asking him questions but not these kinds of questions; every day questions, common courtesy questions; he felt dizzy and the fire was making him too warm so he stood up and walked away from it.

"I woke up quite early," Snape answered and he wasn't looking at Harry.

And then there was an awkward silence between them. It was bad enough Harry couldn't speak and now Snape, who had been so talkative the night before, practically mocking Harry in such a conversational tone, had nothing to say.

"Shall we get started then?" Harry signed finally.

"Yes," Snape replied and he finally seemed to have gotten his composure back which Harry was grateful for. "I have created a list consisting of simple spells that I will require you to practice during your free time." Snape took out his wand swiftly and a piece of paper that was on his desk floated up quickly and presented itself to Harry. Harry took it gently out of the air. "Many of the spells that I have written down are review and will be necessary to perform for your _practical _examinations at the end of the year. They are a great deal of importance for your N.E.W.T.s. What you and I will be working on mostly is defensive spells. I anticipate in at least three to four months time you will be proficient at using nonverbal spells."

Harry nodded.

"It is simple to cast nonverbal spells when it is asked of you in an examination however when you are presented to a hostile environment, that is to say, if a Death Eater was attacking you, you are under a great deal of pressure and stress. It takes a lot more to concentrate when you're trying to save yourself from dying," Snape's words were very solemn and Harry hadn't blinked as he listened intently. He was suddenly cold again and he realized just how defenseless he really was. Yes he could cast a Shield Charm but could he do it fast enough in a situation much like Snape had just described? He had fought Death Eaters before, he had fought Voldemort before but in many of those circumstances he hadn't really stood a chance if he had been alone. He had a great weakness now, he couldn't speak. He realized so suddenly as he stood there in the same office that Snape had found him snooping in the Pensieve just how much he was relying on Snape.

It was a known fact that he had never trusted the man most of his time at Hogwarts and he always expected the worst from him. So as he stood there with his shoulders trembling from the cold he just grasped how much he himself was like Snape. Yes, Snape had been cruel, yes Snape had been downright evil to him for so long, had been mean and nasty and always insulted him but people always said Harry was kind, extremely kind like his mother so why? Why didn't he ever _see_ Snape? See him the way he saw him now? It was because he had done what Snape had done to him. He had placed a label on him, branded him as someone he would always hate, forced an image he had created over Snape's identity so he would always be seen as someone who could never change and never be a man who could really care for him, who could be a friend. So he hadn't been kind, he had been judgmental and childish.

He could see clearly now. He could see Snape. He didn't know much about him but there wasn't anything between them anymore. It had been like an invisible barrier that had sliced its way across creating two worlds and Harry stood on the other side always knowing they could never come together without a chance. Here this man was, a man who had done many things to save his life even though he didn't have to. Harry didn't know why Snape had done those things to save him but whatever the reason he respected this man. So there was nothing to hide behind anymore, no judgments, no grudges, no animosity, Harry was just Harry and Snape was just Snape.

"Mr. Potter, are you alright?" Snape's voice seemed to float up into him.

He held his head down and nodded once.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Professor Snape said as he stepped forward.

That voice, how it had changed from how he had known it so well, and it was so kind, so comforting, so perfect somehow.

"Mr. Potter…"

_Please… _Harry thought and he shut his eyes tightly as his head was still bowed. _Please keep being kind to me. Even if I do speak again…please don't stop being kind to me… _

Snape's fingertips were warm as they lightly touched the side of his face and Harry opened his eyes quickly and saw Snape looking down at him. Those black eyes held the light of the fire. He could see Snape now. He hadn't realized his heart had begun to pound in his chest.

"I will do my best to keep you safe," Snape said and it was the sincerest Harry had ever heard him speak. "I can promise you that much."

Harry wondered why Snape was still touching him when he knew his face was so hot it could probably burn someone. Besides nonverbal spells, he really needed to work on getting his embarrassment under control. Snape's hand came away and he went back to his desk.

"You will need to practice with me on using nonverbal defensive spells," Snape instructed, his tone of voice once again becoming serious. "I don't want my office to get destroyed so we will need to practice somewhere else, perhaps an empty classroom will do."

Harry's attentiveness perked up at these words. Maybe if he had told his idea to someone else they would have said it was a bad idea but he didn't feel like keeping it from Snape.

"I know a place," Harry signed.

He smiled somewhat when Snape gave him a slightly bemused expression.

* * *

Harry knew Snape was finding it rather odd that he had begun pacing past the empty wall opposite the tapestry depicting the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach trolls ballet. Harry passed the wall three times concentrating hard and thinking:

_I need you to become the room I used to train Dumbledore's Army. _

Harry stood before the wall just as the large heavy pair of doors appeared; the steel upon the wood slithering out of nonexistence. Harry turned to Snape and grinned nervously as he saw that he was looking at the doors with inquisitive eyes trying to suppress his surprise. They had come to the 7th floor and Harry had explained to Snape to save his questions until he showed him exactly why the place he knew would be perfect for them to practice nonverbal defensive spells without grabbing anyone's attentions or causing a disturbance. It had been strange to walk with Snape when there had been students heading back to their dormitories but luckily the 7th floor corridor was deserted.

Harry grabbed the thick brass handles and pulled the doors open and gestured to Snape to enter the room. Snape did rather cautiously and Harry followed and was met with the familiar sight of the spacious room lit by the two large sparkling chandeliers that gave the room a bluish glow. His school shoes walked over the metal grated floor. The mirrors all over the room's walls reflected themselves endlessly. He was filled up with memories at the sight of the room.

"And this is…" Snape began as Harry turned to see him looking all around the room and then back at Harry.

"The Room of Requirement," Harry signed as he finger spelled "requirement". "Also known as the Come and Go Room." Harry had a brief memory of Dobby for a second.

"You found this…_room_ how?" Snape asked and his eyes had narrowed.

So Snape didn't seem to know about this room after all. Then again if Dumbledore himself had been serious about not knowing about this unique secret of Hogwarts it wasn't surprising that Professor Snape wasn't aware of it either. He wondered just how much the man knew about the events that had taken place last year with the D.A. members and Umbridge.

"I needed a place to teach…" Harry signed carefully.

It was then that Snape's face took upon a look of resolve.

"So this is where you and your daring friends formed _Dumbledore's Army_," Snape said as he crossed his arms, a stance that Harry had always been used to. "I presume you know how it works, Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"You just really have to be in need of something or somewhere and this room will help you," Harry signed. "Did Professor Dumbledore tell you about us?"

"Yes," Snape answered and gave Harry a stern look. "I hope you know just how much I had to deal with that disastrous woman."

Harry gave Snape a look of his own and held up his left hand.

"Touché Mr. Potter…" Snape said and he began to walk around the room. "I suppose I owe you a congratulation of sorts…"

Harry waited as Snape seemed to be trying to figure out the room himself.

"You took matters into your own hands, your protection into your own hands, the Headmaster found it to be rather gallant of you," Snape went on. "Quite _reckless _but gallant; you're a capable leader, Mr. Potter, perhaps you should add that detail to that list of yours."

Harry was a bit astonished at Snape's sudden praise. It had never came to mind what Snape would have done had he found out about Dumbledore's Army before Umbridge did but they had all done a fine job at keeping it secret from non members.

"So…what has become of your…_army_?" Snape asked as he walked over to Harry.

"We've disbanded," Harry signed and gave Snape a small smile.

"So…" Snape said again. "I suppose coming to this place can be a little secret of our own."

Harry thought about those words for a moment. He probably wouldn't ever tell his friends about taking Snape of all people to the Room of Requirement; he thought that was what Snape had meant. He could simply ask the room to not let anyone find them. Was it really so mysterious that he was learning nonverbal spells from Snape? That probably wasn't it. It was most likely their friendship that Snape wanted to keep hidden away. Harry felt the same about it but as he was able to ponder over it now maybe he didn't feel the same way.

"Well, we should begin Mr. Potter," Snape said.

Harry nodded and took off his robes and thought that he needed a place to hang them and over on the wall next to him a few hooks appeared out of the stone and he walked over and hung his robes up. He then walked a few feet away from Snape and faced him.

"Tonight we shall start with having you be able to cast attack spells at me," Snape instructed. "So to begin I want you to concentrate and try to cast any curse or jinx you know at me. It is of importance that you are able to perform such spells properly and carefully; you don't want a curse to backfire on you."

Harry nodded quickly and then took out his wand from his right front pocket and Snape took out his as well.

"You may start whenever you are ready," Snape said.

Harry took in a deep breath. He had to be able to fight off Death Eaters, he had to be able to defend himself. He thought for a moment and decided to go with something easy. He focused greatly and quickly pointed his wand at Snape and thought:

_Stupefy!_

To Harry's disappointment it didn't work. He tried again and nothing happened. Could he really not cast a simple Stunning Spell? Maybe he was having the same problem he had with disarming Snape. He was intimidated, Snape always intimidated him but he didn't want such a thing to affect his nerve and concentration, he could do this, it was just Snape and he wanted to prove himself to this man.

"Focus, Mr. Potter," Snape said. "Intimidation is a part of a hostile environment and is something you need to overcome."

Harry understood. He had been in many "hostile environments" and had been more than afraid when he and his friends had been attacked by Death Eaters. He had survived the Triwizard Tournament. Casting _Stupefy_ at Snape shouldn't be this difficult. The sudden bright light that shot from Snape's wand and hit the ground next to him made him jump.

"Come now, Potter, this is serious," Snape simply said.

Harry glared at the man. He knew this was serious. Harry gripped his wand as he held it out before him and concentrated but his hand was trembling. Snape had agitated him with that stunt, firing off a missed jinx to scare him. Then Snape shot off another jinx that bounced off the grated floor right by Harry making him flinch. Harry's heart began to beat faster. Why was Snape doing this? Harry was trying but he couldn't concentrate if Snape kept casting bloody curses at the ground.

"Keep that wand up Mr. Potter," Snape said.

Harry could feel his face growing hot as he clutched his wand tighter. And this time Snape fired a jinx right at Harry and he barely ducked in time, his knees hitting the floor.

"I would have preferred a Shield Charm from you, Potter," Snape said. "On your feet, now."

Harry ignored the pain in his knees as he stood up shakily. He was angry now. This wasn't Snape being patient with him; this wasn't fair; Snape was just playing with him it seemed like.

The red jet of light came straight at him and he jumped out of the way, almost tripping over his feet.

"You might be fast but you're clumsy, wand up!" Snape called at him. "Concentrate; teach your mind to be as quick as your reflexes."

Harry was more than agitated now as he tried again to cast the Stunning Spell but nothing happened and Snape fired another jinx and this time Harry's Shield Charm burst from his wand and the jinx bounced off of it.

"Good," Snape said and he flicked his wand once more and Harry had to really concentrate to keep his shield up as it had almost broken from Snape's curse.

Harry gritted his teeth and let the charm fade and he thought desperately in his mind:

_Stupefy!_

The red light shot from his wand and Snape's own Shield Charm appeared quickly causing it to bounce off. They went about this for quite some time. Harry was Snape's target as it seemed that Snape had reversed the lesson plan on him and Harry kept performing the Shield Charm over and over as well as trying his best to concentrate and he managed to perform a few jinxes and curses which Snape had all blocked. Harry was definitely not as quick as he would like to be. It took time to cast the jinxes and curses and they weren't as powerful as they could be.

Harry was growing tired and his head had begun to ache and his face was flushed. Snape fired off another red burst of light and Harry had meant to cast another Shield Charm but the head ache had become so bad and the sharp pain had made him hesitate. The Stunning Spell struck him square in the chest and he was thrown off his feet and landed on his back hard. Harry had a brief thought that he wished he had asked the room for cushions like last year.

He heard quick footsteps coming over to him and Snape was at his side in a split second.

"Are you alright?"

Harry could have laughed at Snape's worry filled voice if his head didn't hurt so much. Snape helped him sit up.

"I'm sorry; we should have stopped half an hour ago…" Snape said quickly.

Harry let out a breath as he looked at Snape.

"I'm not delicate," Harry signed. Snape looked too worried for his liking as the man was on his knees. "I'm fine, just a head ache."

Snape looked at him firmly.

"Next time tell me when you're hurting somewhere," Snape snapped.

"Next time don't try to stun me so hard," Harry signed.

"Watch your cheek, Potter," Snape said as he stood up quickly.

Harry was surprised as Snape bent down and took both of his hands in his own and all too easily pulled him to his feet and let his hands go. It annoyed him as well as Harry was flushed in the face but Snape looked fine. He had just been standing there firing off spells with flicks of his wand.

"I can get rid of that head ache for you if you'd like to accompany me back to my office," Snape said.

Harry nodded and went to grab his robes but Snape flicked his wand and Harry's school robes came off the hook and over to them and gently landed in Harry's hands.

"Summoning Spell, it's on the list," Snape said.

They left the secret room and Snape had watched the doors to the Room of Requirement disappear. Harry wondered why Snape had lost track of time. It was still raining heavily and a sudden boom of thunder sounded through the corridor making Harry jump close to Snape.

"Scared of thunder?" Snape said with a smirk.

Harry shook his head as his cheeks were reddening.

"It just…makes me nervous…" Harry signed as they walked.

A flash of lightning lit up the dark hall.

"Brace yourself," Snape said in somewhat of a mock tone.

Harry did so but still flinched badly when the sound of the thunder seemed to shake the windows. Harry looked to see Snape's face. He had his eyes on Harry and the man was smirking still.

"It's not funny," Harry signed with annoyance.

"I'm not laughing."

Harry glared up at him. He wasn't sure how he felt about the man's teasing.

When they entered Snape's warm office (Harry had started shivering again) Snape told him to sit and then he brought tea once again for them and a small vial of Headache Potion. Harry had grimaced at the nasty taste but was grateful that the pain in his head seemed to slip away.

"I'm sorry I had to…provoke you," Snape said as he had brought another chair by the fire and sat down. "But it seems to be the only way you can focus."

Harry nodded and sipped the green tea; it was hot and tasted good.

"You don't have to be intimidated by me, Mr. Potter," Snape said.

Harry stared at the crackling fire. For some reason he was happy. He didn't know what it was but Snape just seemed to always place this feeling within him and he couldn't and didn't want to stop it. It was somehow nice how worried Snape had looked and how fast he was to come to Harry's aid that way. He smiled softly. Those days when Professor Snape had been so cruel to him seemed so far away now. He looked at Snape. The man even sat with refinement about him. He was tall and he definitely looked like he could always hold his own; those hands had always felt so strong. Harry looked away quickly as his heart had suddenly sped up again. Snape was good at intimidating him even if he wasn't trying to.

"Mr. Potter," Snape called and Harry forced himself to look at Snape. "Professor Dumbledore has asked me to tell you he requires your presence in his office tomorrow morning at nine."

Harry placed his tea cup down on the tray that was hovering in the air.

"Do you know why?" Harry signed.

"I do not," Snape answered.

Harry suddenly felt worried at that.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said again. "Whatever it is…you are safe with the Headmaster."

"You're not allowed to be there?" Harry didn't know why he had signed such a question.

"No, I'm afraid not," Snape said.

Harry wondered why the man looked somewhat worried.

"It's quite late," Snape said too softly.

Harry waited for Snape to say something that would make Harry stand up to go but he didn't, instead he said:

"Mr. Potter…this Sunday, would you like to have dinner with me?"

The sudden heat that had risen in his cheeks startled him.

"I would understand it if you would rather have dinner in the Great Hall…" Snape continued.

Harry shook his head but it was more like a flinching motion.

"No, I would like to have dinner with you," Harry's hands signed rather clumsily as they were shaking now. "Sunday." Harry nodded nervously.

"Good…" Snape said and he put his tea cup down. "I'll take you back to your dormitory now."

There was plenty of silence between them as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. Harry didn't know why he was feeling so embarrassed as his hands trembled softly. He had had lunch with Snape plenty of times but it was just the way Snape had asked, because Snape had asked. And it was dinner instead of lunch but how different were they really?

"Good night, Mr. Potter…I will see you Sunday," Snape said.

"Sunday…" Harry signed again as he nodded. "Good night."

Snape spoke the password and the portrait entrance swung open. Harry couldn't believe how hot his face felt as he climbed through the portrait hole.

"You're back late again," Ron said as he, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting on the couches and armchairs before the fire. They were the only ones in the common room. "Why's your face so red?"

"Shut up," Harry signed.

"No need to be rude, I was just asking," Ron said.

"How were your lessons?" Hermione asked.

"Fine…" Harry signed as he sat down on the sofa's arm. "Snape told me I have to go see Dumbledore tomorrow morning…He didn't know the reason why."

Hermione's face suddenly looked nervous.

"Maybe it's just to see how you're doing…" Ron suggested.

"I don't think so…" Harry signed.

There was silence for a moment.

"Tell us what happens as soon as possible, Harry," Hermione said. She sighed and stood up. "I'm going to bed, good night."

"Good night," Ron said with Ginny.

Hermione went off to the girl's dorms.

"I'm going to bed too…tired…" Ron said and Harry didn't know why it sounded forced. Ron stood and headed up the stairs to the boy's dorms. Harry realized he was alone with Ginny now and quickly stood up.

"You're not tired too are you?" Ginny said. "Can I chat with you a bit; it seems like I haven't gotten much time to since you're always going somewhere."

Harry hesitated and realized he was too kind as he sat next to Ginny on the sofa.

"The teachers have been forcing so much homework on us lately," Ginny said.

Harry nodded. She wore a pink cotton blouse and jeans. Harry just stared at the silver bracelet on her left wrist. It glistened because of the fire.

"Yeah...It's because of your O.W.L.s…" Harry signed.

"Yeah…" Ginny said.

Harry really felt tired now as he sat there.

"How are you?" Harry signed.

"Good," Ginny replied. "And you?"

"Good…" Harry gave her a thumbs up. He couldn't believe how awkward this was. "How are you and Dean?"

"We're…ok…" Ginny said but she sounded unsure.

This was starting to get painful. Harry really didn't know how to be around Ginny because she always gave off these vibes that made Harry tense. It wasn't as if he wanted to be rude to her because she was quite nice; something just told him he should be cautious.

Ginny's hand touched his arm gently and Harry had to stop himself from recoiling.

"I hope you get your voice back soon Harry," she said softly and Harry stared at her. Yes, she was pretty by most standards, like Cho had been. Her hair was shiny like Cho's but Harry didn't feel anything which was strange because he was a boy and boy's were supposed to _feel_ things at his age and yet nothing about her made her special to him.

"Thank you…" Harry finally signed and then he stood slowly. "I'm really tired…Snape…he makes you work hard, you know?" He had no idea why he had brought up Snape.

"Oh right," Ginny said. "Good night Harry." She had signed the last part.

Harry forced a smile.

"Good night," he signed back to her and he left quickly up to his dormitory, feeling guilty because he had been relieved to get up from that couch.

* * *

Harry absentmindedly fiddled with the last button of his Gryffindor cardigan as he walked next to Hermione. They were headed to Dumbledore's office. Harry had expected Snape to walk him to the Headmaster's office but Snape had not been present at breakfast on this drizzling Friday morning. Harry was thankful because the thunder had stopped.

"Don't worry Harry, you're with Dumbledore, you don't have to be nervous," Hermione tried to reassure him again. She had been saying things like that all morning once she noticed just how worried Harry looked.

Harry nodded. They reached the stoned gargoyle and Hermione said:

"Pixie Puffs." She turned to Harry and smiled softly. Hermione's smiles were always nice but it didn't make him feel less anxious. "It'll be fine, I'll see you later."

Harry nodded again as he stepped on one of the moving steps. His heart sped up as the stairs rose up to the door. He knocked politely and Dumbledore's familiar voice called: "Come in!" Harry opened it and walked in and Dumbledore was standing by his desk, his blue eyes looking happy.

"Harry my boy!" Dumbledore greeted him.

Harry walked forward trying his best to not put his head down.

"How are you? How has the first week back been?"

"I'm ok. It's been fine…" Harry signed.

"Sit, sit," Dumbledore said as he sat in his own chair behind his desk. "Would you like something to drink?"

Harry shook his head as he sat down. His eyes fell on Dumbledore's injured hand. He knew it wasn't a good idea to ask Snape about it but he wondered why it hadn't been healed yet. Maybe it was just Harry's imagination but the blackness in those three fingers seemed to have darkened somehow.

"I'm very happy to know how much you and Professor Snape are getting along these days," Professor Dumbledore said.

"Yes. He's been…very kind," Harry signed.

"And so have you, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure Professor Snape is grateful for it."

Harry thought about the statement for a moment but decided not to dwell on it but he had remembered that time in The Fish Bowl when Snape had said he was kind.

"I'm pleased to know that you've been doing well with your sessions with Ms. Gardiner, Harry," Dumbledore said as he folded his hands upon the desk.

Harry wasn't really listening as he stared at the many shiny odd objects in the room. He remembered the last time he had been here, the night Sirius had died. He hadn't thought of it before when he had met Ms. Gardiner, perhaps it was because she always made him feel at ease but now sitting here with Dumbledore he remembered that night and remembered how enraged he had been, throwing around everything in the room. It made him realize that he couldn't hide from reality, he couldn't forget it all, he couldn't just enjoy his time that he had with his friends and Snape, no, because a prophecy had ruined all of that but then again Snape and him would never have become friends if there was no prophecy. He would be an entirely different person if there hadn't been such a prophecy.

"Harry?"

Harry's attention was brought back.

"I'm sorry," Harry signed. "I…space out a lot…now…I mean…"

"It's alright," Dumbledore said gently.

"Sir? What…happened to your hand?" Harry signed as his hands were shaky. He had to ask.

"Oh it's nothing you need to worry about, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "I'm sure you know you're supposed to stay away from stress. Forgive me if I have put any on you with asking you to meet with me today."

Harry waited as he sat there feeling almost numb but he was scared because he felt as if he wasn't ready for whatever Dumbledore had in store for him.

"Harry, now that you know what prompted Voldemort to try to kill you fifteen years ago I believe you are more than entitled to know certain information," the Headmaster said.

Harry sat there not wanting to guess at what information he was entitled to.

"This information…" Harry signed. "Will it help me…survive?"

"I certainly hope so, Harry," Dumbledore said.

He waited for Dumbledore to continue but the man seemed to be thinking of what to say. Harry wondered if Dumbledore saw him as someone who was broken, someone who wasn't as strong as he had hoped Harry to be. He felt disappointed with himself.

"I believe I may have a theory on how to defeat Voldemort," Dumbledore said and his tone of voice had grown solemn. "I have been working on this deduction for quite some time and now I need your help Harry. I'm going to let you see some of my memories, memories of Voldemort and I hope that from them, as I work on this theory, that together we will be able see if Voldemort possesses a weakness."

Harry's hands had been holding his knees tightly as he listened to the man's words. A way to defeat Voldemort? Harry's heart beat quickened as his mind filled with questions. What sort of memories was Dumbledore talking about?

"I know that you are aware that Voldemort grew up in a muggle orphanage," Dumbledore said as he stood up with his hands planted firmly on his desk. "I am going to show you the memory of the day when I first met Tom Riddle and told him the truth about who he was."

Harry stood as well. He eyed Dumbledore as he walked over to the large cabinet to where Harry knew the Pensieve was kept. The glass doors were opened and Dumbledore took the shiny silver bowl out of the stone basin that was covered in runes and strange symbols. His hands let the bowl go and it floated in the air, spinning slightly as Harry walked over to it the silvery substance that was like liquid gas glowed; lighting up his face. Dumbledore joined him as he took one of the many crystal vials Harry was used to seeing in the cabinet. The Headmaster looked Harry in the eyes as if trying to see something inside him and Harry wondered just what Dumbledore was thinking and just what all of this meant. Was he really trying to help Harry understand his worst enemy? Harry never thought it possible to know anything more about Voldemort other than that he was evil, a murderer and that he was the one chosen to defeat him. Voldemort had killed his parents, had killed so many people, and he was out there somewhere ready to try and kill Harry once again. Harry really had no idea of what was to happen but he knew he had to be ready for it when it did.

Dumbledore opened the crystal vial and spilled the contents of the memory into the Pensieve and Harry watched it swirl into the silver substance.

"Go on, Harry," Dumbledore said softly.

Harry waited for just a moment. He did want Voldemort destroyed for good but he just couldn't help knowing that he wasn't ready to understand anything right now but still he bent over the Pensieve and his broke the cool surface of the memory and he felt himself fall into the darkness of it.

When his feet hit the ground underneath him he opened his eyes which met the sight of a much younger Professor Dumbledore. The man's hair and beard were auburn and he wore a suit of plum velvet. He was standing with a woman in a long brick walled corridor. She was skinny with graying hair held up into a bun and she wore a black skirted uniform with tights and black shoes much like the ones nurses wore. She was gripping her white apron in her nervousness.

"In all the years Tom's been here he's never once had a family visitor," she spoke to Dumbledore in a breathy sort of way as if she had been through enough for the day. Harry watched the memory of Dumbledore who seemed to be waiting patiently as he stood before her. Her eyes traveled all over the sight of the Headmaster and then she spoke again warily: "There have been incidences with the other children…nasty things…" She began to walk forward down the corridor and passed Harry. Dumbledore followed quickly. She stopped in front of one of the many gold black wooden doors and hesitated but knocked softly none the less and then pushed open the door. Harry walked quickly and stood by the memory Dumbledore.

"Tom, you have a visitor," she said gently and motioned for Dumbledore to step inside the room.

Dumbledore did so lightly and Harry trailed in after him. The woman closed the door behind him. Harry found himself staring at a simple small bare room with a bed against the left wall and a little wooden desk next to it. There was an old wardrobe in the corner next to Harry. Harry's eyes fell on a boy who was sitting at the desk reading a book. He had neat dark brown hair that was lit up by the sunlight coming through the dusty window set into the brick wall behind the child Tom Riddle. He had pale skin but fine handsome features for a child. He wore a gray school boy uniform and Harry could tell how long ago this memory was set by the boy's clothes.

"How do you do, Tom?" Dumbledore said as he walked forward and held out his hand.

The young Tom took his eyes away from the book swiftly and eyed the strangely dressed man before him. Harry sensed something off about the boy that was Tom Riddle; that would one day call himself Lord Voldemort. There was just something not right about him, something depraved and tainted. How could an eleven year old boy give him such a feeling?

The boy had shaken Dumbledore's hand after a moment and then Dumbledore took a seat on the boy's bed.

"I am Professor Dumbledore," he said.

"'Professor'?" the young Riddle repeated. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did _she_ get you in to have a look at me?" The boy had the lightest of hazel eyes but they just seemed so menacing and darkened.

"No, no," Dumbledore said and he smiled softly.

"I don't believe you, she wants me looked at," Tom Riddle said. "Tell the truth!"

Harry was surprised at the sudden sharp command the boy gave Dumbledore. It seemed as if this boy was used to commanding people around. Harry watched Dumbledore's face which was as calm as ever as his eyes were on Riddle. Tom Riddle was glaring at the Headmaster but it fell a moment later and he spoke, looking wary, those eyes that Harry had seen upon the face of a demon that haunted his dreams:

"Who are you?"

"I am a professor and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school," Dumbledore spoke with a simple kindness, the voice that Harry was always used to; well paced and aged.

Riddle stared at Dumbledore as if wanting to deny the man's words but he was silent still and Professor Dumbledore continued:

"Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities…"

"I'm not mad!" Riddle shouted instantly and once again Harry was surprised at how strong the child's voice rang out.

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic," Dumbledore said lightly.

It was then that the boy had frozen and he looked stunned as those eyes were looking all over Dumbledore's face as if to catch any hint that the man might be lying to him.

"Magic?" his voice was a whisper.

"Yes, magic," Dumbledore repeated. "You can do things, can't you Tom? Things that other children can't."

"I can make things move without touching them, I can make animals do what I want without training them, I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me, I can make them hurt if I want to."

Harry noticed that the boy's legs were trembling even though he was sitting.

"I knew I was different…I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something…"

"You're quite right, Tom," Dumbledore said. "You are a wizard."

The boy's eyes broadened at those words and Harry could faintly see just how not right that face looked. He seemed happy yet there was no innocence there, not one trace of it and Harry knew what it should look like because he saw it in the faces of all the First Years at Hogwarts.

"Are you a wizard too?" Riddle asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered with a slight nod of his head.

"Prove it," the boy commanded once again.

Harry waited as Dumbledore eyed the boy and watched as Dumbledore took out his wand from his sleeve jacket and pointed it at the old wardrobe and it burst flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet in shock and with a look of rage but before he could start shouting about his personal possessions being ruined the flames vanished and the wardrobe remained just as it had been.

"I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe, Tom," Dumbledore said.

Harry heard the faint rattling coming from inside the wardrobe. Riddle walked slowly over to the its door and opened it. Harry watched as he pulled a metal tin off of one of the shelves.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" Dumbledore asked as he kept his eyes on the child.

"Yes…" Riddle answered and then added quickly "…sir."

"Open it," Dumbledore said.

The boy walked over to the bed and tipped out its contents. Harry looked at the red yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a mouth organ.

"Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom," Dumbledore said. "At Hogwarts you will be taught not only how to use magic but how to control it, do you understand me?"

Riddle nodded.

"So do you accept my offer for a place at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course," Riddle replied quickly.

Dumbledore took out an envelope from his jacket pocket and Harry knew it was Tom Riddle's first Hogwarts letter. He took out a small brown money bag as well. He handed the items to the child who took it without thanking him.

Harry listened as Dumbledore explained to the boy about a fund Hogwarts offered to students who needed help paying for books and robes and about the letter and how to get to Diagon Alley to purchase all of his school things and when he would need to go to King's Cross Station and then finally asked the boy if he needed anyone to accompany him to give him any assistance.

"I don't need anyone," Riddle said confidently. "I'm used to doing things on my own."

Harry was surprised when Dumbledore complied with the boy's decisions and said with finality in his voice:

"Well then, this is good-bye Tom, I shall see you at Hogwarts."

The memory of Dumbledore turned to leave but Riddle suddenly spoke up:

"I can speak to snakes…" Harry's eyes didn't take themselves away from the child Voldemort whose voice suddenly didn't sound like a child's voice anymore. "They find me, whisper things. Is that normal for a wizard?"

Dumbledore had hesitated at the door before turning his head and answering:

"It is unusual…but not unheard of."

And the memory ended as Harry was surfacing up from it and through the darkness once more. Harry stood in Dumbledore's office once more and he realized his chest had tightened and his hands were shaking. Dumbledore said nothing as he watched Harry and he had the feeling that the man expected him to actually say something, as if this was the jolt he needed to bring him back from his trauma, to put him back on track, the well beaten path but he knew his voice was still dead within him and looked to the old wizard and signed:

"Did you know…then?"

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time? No…" Dumbledore answered and he took the silver bowl and placed it back into the basin.

Harry didn't know what to think as he stood there. He knew what Dumbledore wanted him to understand from the memory. That Voldemort had been a child who had liked to torment others. Harry knew because of the memory he just saw, Tom Riddle had always been evil and he wondered just what had to be inside of a boy like him to create that evil. Tom Riddle wanted to be special, unique, out of the ordinary and to prove he was extraordinary.

"I know you understand the similarities between the child and the adult Voldemort, he has always been friendless, always operating alone, secretive, self-sufficient," Dumbledore spoke to Harry with such importance. "Harry…"

Harry's heart was still beating fast. It had been a while since he was in the presence of Voldemort and no matter if it was just a memory he couldn't help but feel the fear creeping up in him. Voldemort was an enigma, a parasite feeding off of his future, the reason he was never allowed certain freedoms. Harry stood there but felt as if that demon was holding him down, gripping at him and he would never be free from this.

"This was our first step into figuring out how to destroy him," Dumbledore said. "From this Harry I just want you to keep in mind that Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies as in the things he had hidden in that box, things taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs if you will. Voldemort liked using his unknown skill in magic to hurt others, I'm sure you understand this as well."

Harry nodded as he had gotten that idea more or less from the look on the woman's face who worked at the orphanage.

"So what is this theory?" Harry signed. "What is Voldemort's weakness?"

"It will be some time before I am able to obtain the proper evidence to support my theory, Harry, but I am working on it," Dumbledore said. "When I am sure of it I will explain it to you. For now Harry, this is only the beginning to the puzzle that is Lord Voldemort."

Harry nodded but the man's words did not extinguish all the questions he had in his mind. He suddenly felt connected in some way to Voldemort because he had seen that memory. He knew only a handful of things about Tom Riddle and whatever he and Dumbledore had begun to work towards now he hoped it would be the answers he needed to destroy Voldemort.

"I want you to focus on one thing, Harry," Dumbledore said and Harry knew their little meeting was about to be over. "And that is being able to speak again. I am sorry for everything you have been through; it has been more than too much for you…"

"It's not your fault," Harry signed quickly. "There's nothing we can do to change what's already happened, I try every day to not dwell on it."

Dumbledore looked over him and Harry could see the sorrow in the man's eyes. He didn't know too much about this man or Dumbledore's past and he had never asked but he had always just gone a long with everything, hardly faltering and he had been so angry at this man only months ago but he couldn't feel that way just now because Dumbledore had been through more than enough too and he could tell that the man had been frustrated before, angry with himself, and even if he kept things from Harry, even if they were important, even if it was the truth, Harry didn't want to blame anyone anymore. He wanted it to be over, he wanted to listen and focus and understand what he needed to do and Dumbledore would be the one to give him the answers he needed in due time.

"Professor Snape…" Dumbledore said. "Like I said before, I'm pleased at how much you both have changed towards one another."

Harry nodded and he could only guess just how much Snape had told him about everything that had happened between them.

"I doubt anything would have changed…if I hadn't lost my voice…" Harry signed and felt ashamed because of that fact.

"I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, good or bad," Dumbledore said. "Thank you for coming here today, Harry. I will send word when we shall meet like this again. Until then, do your best not to worry, I know it will be difficult but just know you are safe here."

Harry nodded once again.

"I'll see you, Professor," Harry signed.

"Do take care, Harry," Dumbledore replied.

Harry left feeling much more worried than he had before coming to the man's office. When he stepped off the step of the spiral stair case and into the corridor he had not expected to see Professor Snape standing right next to the statue. Harry was surprised as his eyes met the man's own. Snape seemed rigid and his eyes held that worried look in them. Harry had a thought as he stared into those black eyes. Snape, who had been a Death Eater turned spy, Snape who faced Voldemort plenty of times himself, Snape who was so controlled and collected…he trusted Snape, he couldn't stop himself from trusting this man now and he practically begged within himself that he would not suffer because he trusted Snape.

"Mr. Potter…" was all Snape said.

"Don't ask me what happened…" Harry signed as he stood there before the man. "If you don't know then you're not supposed to know…yet."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he understood Harry's hands.

"I wasn't _going_ to ask you what happened…" Snape said. "I was going to ask you if you were alright."

Harry smiled. It was true; Snape always took away the worry and the misery.

"Why are you smiling?" Snape asked looking annoyed.

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," Harry signed.

"You…" Snape seemed agitated but Harry could see he was relieved in some way.

"Care to walk me back to my dorm?" Harry signed. "I've got plenty of homework."

Snape said nothing and began to walk down the corridor and Harry hurried after him.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape snapped when Harry came into a fast stride beside him.

"What for?" Harry signed as Snape looked down at him.

Snape looked forward and simply said:

"For making me worry about you."

Harry smiled once more and despite the memory he had just seen, despite how much it reminded him of the prophecy and how he was the Chosen One and what he had to do in the end, the smile stayed on his face as he walked side by side with Snape. All the worry had gone and he felt truly happy.

* * *

**Sorry this took a while but I hope everyone enjoyed it. I hope no one is confused as well. Thank you for all your reviews, they really inspire me. I hope everyone will keep reading and reviewing if you have the time. The next chapter will be up soon and it will consist of Snape's POV quite a bit. I hope you look forward to it. : )**

**Also to note, I really have no idea if Snape ever knew about the Room of Requirement, I researched it and couldn't find anything. **


	22. Chapter 21: What's In A Name?

**Some text has been used from Book 7.**

* * *

**Chapter 21: What's In A Name?**

_He had never been so aware of himself before. For the longest of time he felt as if he had been drifting through the years like a leaf taken by the river. And now he had something to keep him in one place and to see just who he was. He took the time now to see himself and realized that perhaps he had been too afraid to ever once stop and wait and look at himself, feel himself, feel anything and he was feeling so much more now._

_ Man makes mistakes, plenty of mistakes and Severus had made enough mistakes. He had thrown away a part of his life that was happy, pure, and true and that was in the past. He had thought for what seemed like ages that he would never get such a gift again. If this was a second chance he took it for what it was worth and tried desperately to ignore the consequences that might follow and he was one to never do such a thing. It was so sudden that he stopped caring about consequences and started to believe he could have such a happiness and he could be a different man. _

_ He was not a fool to forget what he had done in the past and he knew he must be careful but what was happening to him was something he just couldn't fight and he had no such will to fight it. Severus had thought he had already been dead long ago and he was just a being filled with bitterness and grief and torturous hatred and envy and spite. Oh how he hated who he had been, who he had been trapped to be, who he had forced himself to become. He had never thought that he could be anything else, that he could be happy again. Happiness; he hardly ever remembered the word let alone used it as describing how he felt. But this boy, this one person to him, oh how breathless it made him feel. How could such a thing happen? A true phenomenon; or maybe it was a miracle. Because he had felt so much bitterness toward this boy, so much animosity, such cruel insults, so many hate-filled glances, so many bad memories he needed to be rid of and he had been trapped in them, he had dwelled, remembered for far too long and it had turned him into such a pathetic, ugly creature. _

_ If it was a miracle he had been given then he was more than grateful because he adored it, honored it, let it engulf him and he was so, so hungry for it. This boy, how could this one boy transform into such a person in mere days, hours, minutes, seconds? Severus had been reborn, relinquished, freed. He had never, ever wanted something so desperately. Because this boy who was so pure, so unique, so different, so kind, this boy; he doubted if this boy knew just exactly what he was doing to him. It made him feel vulnerable, exposed but brand new. He could feel his heart give in to this boy. He knew, he couldn't deny it because it was so perfect and the boy was so oblivious to that fact. _

_ He was worried because it was wrong, it was taboo, forbidden but he wouldn't let himself give up. If he gave up then he would truly be dead, soulless, heartless; he would not exist, he would be nothing. He could remember the night he had wished he was dead and he did not know just how long he wished for death despite the promises he had made, despite the debt he owed. He never thought he would get over the past; that he would let go and he never thought that it could ever feel this good. So he was new and he was so frightened by what he was feeling. It should be monstrous but it didn't seem that way. It seemed delicate, real, so real and so worth the pain. He might have put himself into the same position he had been in so many years ago but this was different in a way, he was different and he wouldn't, he couldn't fail. _

_ Those eyes, those innocent eyes; he did not know how they continued to stay that way. Such lips that were silent remained closed but those eyes spoke forever. They would search him, they would glance all over, dance everywhere and he couldn't see enough of them. When they would be still he just wanted to remember them exactly in that moment. That face with those fine, prominent, striking features and the blossom of red within the skin; so inherent, so priceless. How could he be so fixated? So obsessed in such little time? It was wrong, it was atrocious, it was unspeakable but it had bound his heart, nestled deep within and even if he was ashamed he just couldn't disregard these feelings. _

_ He was such a dark man, such a sinful man; he had made so many mistakes, he had hurt so many, he had seen so much so why? Why was this boy here? This beautiful light? He didn't deserve it but he wanted so much to take it, to steal it and keep it for himself. He was a very dark man. He found himself needing to do things. Needing to be kind to him, needing to see a smile, needing to feel what he could not touch and yet he did it anyway. And not once did the boy move away, not once did he look like he hated it and even though it was wrong he was hopeful._

* * *

_ "How is Harry, Severus?" Dumbledore's voice managed to reach into his senses and he realized he had been holding the tea cup without ever once drinking from it. It wasn't like him to be so lost in contemplations that he would lose focus of his surroundings. Such a thing made him think of the boy._

_ Severus stared down at the light golden liquid for moments before answering the Headmaster:_

_ "He is doing well…He's very capable of learning nonverbal spells…" His words seemed to form without him thinking about what to actually say. He did not know why he was feeling so melancholy today. "He…finds me slightly intimidating which is hindering his progress however all he needs is the proper motivation."_

_ "I must say, Severus, there is quite a difference in the way you speak about Harry than how you used to," Dumbledore said and he was smiling approvingly. _

_ Severus narrowed his eyes at the old wizard. Must the man always point out the obvious? Severus set down the tea cup upon the desk before him. _

_ "I will ask you this once…" Severus began. "You're still leaving the school even though you found that cursed ring for whatever reason, where is it that you are going now?"_

_ "I don't know why you bother asking questions that you know I will not answer," Dumbledore replied and Severus gritted his teeth. "You shouldn't worry. You should focus on Harry and hope that in due time he will speak again."_

_ Severus could have laughed because it was becoming more difficult by the day to focus on anything else but Potter; it was unnerving and it really was worrying him._

_ "So…" Severus said as he looked up into the man's twinkling eyes. "Did…that woman tell you of the task she has given Potter?" _

_ "Ah, yes, the list," Professor Dumbledore said and he folded his hands together. "It is a very healthy way for Harry to see what others see in him. It takes time to remedy low self-esteem. I'm sure it is something you will be able to help Harry with as well." _

_ Severus looked out the window and watched the disastrous rain fall. The heavens looked as if they were bleeding the water from great wounds. _

_ "I have…already begun to _assist_ Mr. Potter with his sense of _worth_," Severus said._

_ "Have you now?" Dumbledore said intriguingly. _

_ "Last night…he asked me what I liked about him…" Severus replied and he was looking down at his hands. _

_ "And? How did you respond?" He loathed how the man sounded genuinely curious. _

_ "I…pointed out his kindness to others and his honesty…" Severus really could not look the man in the eyes. _

_ "I'm sure you know how proud I am of you," Dumbledore said. _

_ Severus grimaced. _

_ "Tonight, when you see Harry I will need you to tell him that I would like to meet with him tomorrow morning at nine o'clock," the Headmaster said. "And please do not ask me why, Severus."_

_ Severus glowered at the man. It was at this particular moment that he hated how the Headmaster could be so secretive and he loathed how the man always seemed to know more than he let on. Severus was highly agitated. He stood quickly. _

_ "Tell me," Severus said and his voice sounded commanding. "Tell me it is nothing dangerous."_

_ "I wouldn't say it was dangerous no," was all Dumbledore replied with._

_ "Is this your word?" _

_ "Well of course, Severus," Dumbledore said._

_ Severus's jaw clenched before saying:_

_ "I will tell him. Have a good morning, Headmaster."_

_ He took his leave then. Severus knew how many dangerous things Potter had been involved with in the past five years and it was frustrating just how many dangerous things seemed to find the boy. He had spent most of the time during his morning classes grading essays as the younger students fretted with their potion-making. He kept thinking of the dream as he crossed out words that were useless, writing down his own notes and grading each paper; he did try to show some mercy. It was nerve wracking to sit there and count down the hours of the day till 7:00pm. _

_What had become of him? Practically edging on the minutes that would bring him closer to seeing Potter. He was a teacher, he demanded authority and respect. And yet here was a student stripping away his will power as if it were nothing without even being aware of doing so. He looked forward to seeing Potter, to having a conversation with him, to drink in all of the boy's actions, the simple things that made up his personality and character; his very self. Severus knew he should not be feeling this way about such a boy; that it was wrong, immoral, forbidden and it did scare him; it kept worrying him to no end. But he could not ignore it. It was like a constant nagging in the back of his mind as if he kept remembering that he had forgotten something but couldn't quite tell what it was. He was disappointed in himself that he had let this happen. He was strong, he knew that, he was intelligent, he was cunning, he was controlled and composed but Potter just seemed to slip past all of that and he did not know how the boy was doing it._

_He stayed in his office during lunch because he would be tempted to go to the boy; he knew it so he had to resort to keeping himself away from Potter. He had an image to uphold, a reputation and he knew now that students were beginning to notice the change in his manner, well when students were in the class that Potter was in. He had barely touched his food however; it was as if he was sick and he only felt fine when he was with the boy, he felt better, he felt animate and energized. Severus was basically let down by the fact that the weekend was coming ever closer and he would most likely not get to see the boy at all. He was a teenager after all and he knew Potter enjoyed free time to do whatever it was the boy did that made him happy. Playing games, flying on that blasted broom of his…_

_There was one thing that was bothering him, annoying him, actually making him quite angry and it was that he noticed just how many girls that fawned over Potter. It was almost sickening just how many stares or glances the boy got either in class or in the Great Hall and even the corridors; Severus had not been ignorant to this happening. What added the fuel to the flame was the amount of sign language books that had been duplicated who knows how many times over by now that were present in the school. He saw many students, mostly 5th and 6th Years but he had not been blind to those younger who had taken to the muggle language, carrying around those books and having them in his classes and out at meal times. He was beginning to suspect that Potter had started a new trend unbeknownst to him. _

_One would have to be completely brainless to not notice just how popular the boy was despite his short stature. There were many things to be admired; Severus had mewled over this during his solitary lunch hour. Potter was being labeled now as the "Chosen One" but he had been admired well before that. He was good at Quidditch, all too kind to others, generous, good hearted and good natured, and he easily influenced others and his smile was contagious. He was all around a very well off person despite the fact that he was The Boy Who Lived. And Severus hadn't failed to notice just the reason why so many girls from every House had noticed the boy and kept going about their mindless gossip: Potter was by any sense a very good looking young man. Severus wanted to dig his own grave at that last thought. There was something wrong with him, he knew and he wanted for a second as he sat there letting his soup get cold, for someone to come along and put him out of his misery._

_ The rain only got worse after his afternoon classes had moved by at a snail's pace. Then the storm had started. Severus had been teaching for many years now and had seen so many storms each and every year but this one in particular seemed quite vicious due to the amount of thunder and lightning and rain. At dinner he had made an amusing discovery. He had been watching Potter once again. Severus noticed that when the treacherous thunder would sound with such a loud booming clamor that Potter would either jump in his seat or flinch, every time. He sat there wondering just what had set this reaction in Potter. He came to the conclusion that it was because of Potter's condition. _

_He hadn't thought about the boy's muteness in some time. Despite being a master of Occlumency and Legilimency he was no therapist, he had no idea of what it would take to bring back the boy's voice. He knew that Potter held that guilt over Black's death so close to his heart, he knew because he would find it deep in those innocent eyes when they would grow sorrowful. He left the table quite early. His body would not let go of the sudden nervous sensation. He felt unbalanced and somewhat confused. When the boy had arrived even though he had been looking forward to it he found himself not knowing what to say and worried over Potter's shivering. He felt like a fool and he knew Potter had been quick to notice his strange behavior. He honestly could not begin to explain why he asked the boy so many questions and he had not acted this way since he was a teenager himself._

_But it took only a moment to gather himself as Potter brought him away from his abnormal behavior. He then explained to the boy how dire, how critical it was to know how to defend himself and be able to fight against his enemies. As those trembling hands had held the list of spells Severus wanted the boy to practice nonverbally Potter's expression had grown somber and those eyes took so much light into them. He realized that he might have upset the boy somehow by the seriousness in his tone and the way he had worded his example. Potter also looked to be lost in his own thoughts as he held the paper before him. He called softly to the boy and all Potter did was bow his head and shut his eyes closed almost as if in a moment of prayer. Severus couldn't stop his body from what it did next. His feet moved on their own as if guided by an unknown force and he spoke gently, as gentle as he could and placed his hand on the side of Potter's face. The skin was perfect, warm from the fire. It was strange how Potter felt to the touch, how it made him feel. Without really knowing why or how he made a promise to him in a voice unfamiliar. Hadn't he spoken this way to someone before? No, he doubted he had, he doubted he had ever used his voice in such a way. He stared into those eyes, eyes that he became lost in and mere seconds seemed like hours. But he had to leave; he had to get away from that hypnotizing look._

* * *

_He had never known that Hogwarts harbored such a room that Potter called The Room of Requirement and it had spiked his interests greatly. It seemed to be the proper place for him and the boy to have their defensive strategy lessons in. He had decided it best not to question Potter too much on this secret room and he pondered over the idea of asking the Headmaster about it. He attempted to imagine how Potter had taught the group of his peers Defense Against the Dark Arts and it only supported his knowledge on how the boy was influential._

_ As they had begun their lesson Severus was once again aware of how his intimidation over the boy obstructed Potter's ability to focus. He really had no desire to incite the boy but it was the only way so he simply began to cast a few jinxes and curses, sending them Potter's way and studied how the boy began to grow irritable and angry. It took only moments to get Potter to really concentrate and he was soon able to cast his own jinxes and defensive spells towards Severus but they were quite feeble and only held a dismal amount of power behind them however Potter was putting in a great effort, an effort he was not used to seeing from Potter; he was lost in the boy's expressions of aggressive concentration and fiery determination. This was perhaps the reason that he had lost track of the time and hadn't noticed just how much Potter had begun to struggle to keep up with his spells. He had been so shocked when the stunning spell hit the boy that he had cringed. He was angry with himself and he rushed to the boy's side. Much to his relief Potter seemed fine. He knew that when one practiced nonverbal spells at first the side effect was a head ache and a possible migraine if the mind was strained too much._

_ During their walk back to his office he couldn't stop himself from bantering the boy as soon as he had jumped from the storm's thunder. Severus could do it effortlessly and it gave him a sense of control that he had over Potter. He could easily make the boy feel one thing after another, it was like playing an instrument and he felt somewhat guilty at just how much enjoyment he took from it. _

_ He enjoyed many things now when it came to Potter. He liked their fireside chats as they would drink tea and no matter what tea he would choose for the night Potter seemed to find them to his liking. He would often bring a plate of sweets because Potter liked them. He found himself doing many things to make the boy content. As they had sat by the fire he had begun to loll around an idea in his head; or rather the invitation. The weekend was almost here and he didn't want to have to not see Potter if he could help it; he didn't care if this way of thinking was unhealthy or dangerous, his actions were just controlled by what he desired and he desired Potter's company so he gave in and asked the boy to dinner for Sunday and apart of him knew Potter wouldn't refuse and another part, a familiar sense he had not felt since he was young, told him that Potter would refuse. _

_ He watched too carefully as the color had risen in those cheeks for the umpteenth time since he had first noticed this characteristic from Potter and the boy seemed nervous but he was quick to accept Severus's offer and Severus felt reassured and confident now. After he had taken the boy back to his common room he had taken his time returning to his personal quarters. He was concerned, anxious, because he knew he cared too much whether or not if Potter enjoyed his company and he was surprised at how far he was willing to go just to make Potter enjoy his company._

* * *

"Go on, Harry!" Seamus called to him.

"Just do it, Harry," Ron called. "We've got you, you're hardly heavy! What is he? Five foot three?"

Harry turned swiftly around and gave Ron a rude gesture as he glared at the boy. He was proud of those 5 inches attached to the 5 feet. He couldn't believe how this had happened. It hadn't even been him who had started it. It was a Saturday morning after breakfast and his fellow 6th Year Gryffindors had been clustered up in the common room working vigorously on all the homework they had put off for the weekend. Someone, he thought it might have been Neville, had brought up Harry's therapy sessions and Hermione (who he was irritated with now) had brought up the "Trust Fall" exercise and it had spiked many curious ears so Hermione had told them what it was and Harry had been sitting their innocently working on his essay on human transfiguration when everyone who was in the common room began to perform the Trust Fall in all sorts of different partnering. The common room was soon filled with the sounds of screams or laughter and Harry was growing more annoyed by the second.

Then Hermione, being Hermione, had said she had read about trust exercises and that they should try the group Trust Fall and that was when Harry had been volunteered to join them without his consent. So now he stood on top of the high table that was against the wall with his back facing everyone. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dean, Neville, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvarti were all waiting with their arms outstretched and linked safely together for Harry to fall on to. Harry honestly didn't know why Hermione of all people approved of this. If McGonagall had caught them all playing about like this in the House of Godric Gryffindor they would surely lose points and receive detention. How Harry was the sensible one here he did not know either.

"We're going to count down, Harry!" Ron said.

Harry gritted his teeth. He really had no idea why everyone had been so keen on doing this, so it was a little bit fun but it wasn't something to get this worked up over and excited about. The rest of the Gryffindors that were in the common room and coming into the common room had all stopped what they were doing to watch this strange event.

"Three!" the group shouted.

Harry took a deep breath.

"Two!"

He crossed his arms over his chest reluctantly.

"One!"

Harry let himself fall and was startled by the sudden sensation in his stomach that went all the way to his chest. Falling like this was a lot different than just tilting back into someone's arms and he shut his eyes tightly and the feeling of everyone supporting him easily as he landed across their arms was very new and sort of exhilarating. Everyone burst out into laughter and cheers. He was let down with ease and his legs sort of felt numb. And this was how he spent the whole morning. Everyone wanted to try, every Gryffindor in the common room and the laughter, jeering, jokes, screams, and shouts did not die down until lunchtime and by then Harry's arms were tired from having to support the weight of so many volunteers. He was happy though to have made them all enjoy the gloomy, rainy Saturday. It was a stress reliever as well Harry had noticed and many people had commented on it. They complimented Harry and told him it had been a lot of fun. Then they all headed off to lunch, still laughing.

When he had come back from his meeting with Dumbledore yesterday he had signed the best he could to explain to Hermione and Ron what Dumbledore had shown him, he had to write some things down however. Hermione and Ron had been interested and kept guessing as to why Dumbledore had shown Harry the memory and what might be Voldemort's weakness. Harry had spent the rest of the day pondering over it, only having Charms in the afternoon. He knew he should go see Hagrid soon but the rain was relentless. The storm had past but the dark gray sky just didn't want to give in. Harry missed the sun. His lessons with Snape that Friday night had been much like the one the night before except Snape didn't accidentally knock him on his back with a stunning spell. Snape had been as kind and mocking as ever, even making a comment on Harry's height which he wished he wasn't so sensitive about. But it had gone nicely and Snape always served really good tea.

As he ate lunch while the whole Gryffindor table was full of chatter Luna came skipping over to their table and sat next to Harry. He smiled at her and she smiled back at him. He was happy that he and Luna had gotten to know each other last year despite what others may have thought of her. He remembered just how he had felt when he found out that people stole Luna's belongings and hid them; he had been really angry and defensive. Luna was kind, funny, cheerful, true, and loyal and he wondered if it was because she knew so much about so many things (however odd) that it was the reason she was placed in Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor.

Luna conversed with Harry easily through sign language and it was then that Cho came over and Hermione was a bit annoyed to have to move over somewhat so she could sit on Harry's left. Harry wondered just what made Cho want to keep being his friend, or even talk to him for that matter. They had ended their short relationship quite badly. But Cho did talk to him for the rest of lunch and Harry felt much like he did with Ginny that night on the couch; uncomfortable and embarrassed. Harry wondered as he made his way back to the common room with Hermione and Ron the reason he didn't feel any attraction to anyone. He had had a crush on Cho since Fourth Year and that sort of dissipated easily. He was 16 and yet he couldn't really feel like he wanted to be with anyone in that way at the moment even though he kept meeting the stares of so many girls in the Great Hall and corridors. They always seemed to be whispering or giggling or waving at him while smiling. Maybe he was just hopeless with relationships or maybe because of all that was happening he just didn't have time to feel like that or perhaps he just couldn't feel it just like he couldn't speak.

Harry spent the rest of the day (eating quickly at dinner) doing homework with Ron and Hermione (who had given into Ron's pleading to help him). He finished late as Hermione had gone to bed and Ron had retired to the boy's dormitory. He yawned and stretched. It was odd that he hadn't really seen Snape at all today. He had glanced at the man a few times during meal times. Professor Royle seemed to just never talk to anyone while he sat at the Staff table and Harry wondered just what had gone on with Ms. Gardiner and Royle. He was reminded of the list as he sat there in the quiet room and he put his essays and Snape's homework away and textbooks away. Harry took it out and stared at if for a moment. His eyes were itchy and he was sleepy. He really couldn't think of anything to write down but he managed one thing finally:

_I'm a good friend. _

He put the list away in his school bag and went up to his dormitory. Ron was already asleep as was everyone else so Harry changed in pajamas quickly and shivered as he got under the covers. He lay there listening to the rain with his eyes closed. Harry could feel the nervousness creeping up in him because he would soon be having dinner with Snape. He wondered what it would be like and why he was timid around the man. He was quite tired however and drifted off to sleep quickly.

He was lying on top of the sand and it was so hot. His skin soaked up the heat and he was breathing so evenly. He could hear the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. His bare chest felt the cool breeze and he could smell the ocean. He could hear the far away barking and somehow knew the black dog was playing in the ocean, running through it, bounding happily.

"Harry…"

It was a soft whisper and he opened his eyes and he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Harry…"

Who was calling him? He couldn't recognize whoever was speaking his name; like he had never heard it before.

"Harry…"

He finally turned slowly onto his left side and his head rested gently against the pillow of hot sand. He was staring into such dark eyes. He knew who this man was that lay in the sand with him. It was Snape and through his blurred vision he could see how the soft wind played with the man's hair. Those eyes were staring straight through him, looking at him in such a careful way, examining him. Snape was wearing that light blue collared shirt. They were just staring at each other and Snape's hand was slightly buried by the heated sand. Harry's eyes began to travel up and down the man's body and they stopped upon Snape's lips that were moving to say:

"It's our secret."

Harry's eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed quickly. His chest was pounding and his breathing was somewhat uneven. Why had he dreamed of such a scene? He sat there, calming himself down and trying to forget what he had seen in his dream but he was trembling so much and he felt a heat in his stomach, as hot as the sand had been. Snape; he had dreamed of Snape and Snape had said his name, called to him by it and he willed the heat at the bottom of his stomach to go away. He lay back down, throwing himself on the bed and buried his face in his pillow. He felt like an idiot and he was embarrassed above anything else. Why did he have to dream that? Right on the very same day he was supposed to have dinner with Snape. He realized it was late in the morning but no one in his dorm got up early on weekends. He feared falling back asleep because he might have such a strange dream again.

Despite Harry's discomfort the day seemed to pass Harry by. He ate breakfast and tried to work on his list but couldn't concentrate. Ron kept talking to him about Quidditch since tryouts were tomorrow. Harry thought he had heard something about a 7th Year named Cormac McLaggen trying out for Keeper but he was lost in his wondering thoughts and his nerves. He really didn't know why he was so nervous and he felt foolish as well. He hardly ate at lunch and Snape wasn't at the Staff table. After lunch Ron prompted Harry to play wizard's chess with him and Harry lost horribly because he was beginning to be unable to think straight. When it was an hour to 6:00pm he took a shower and he hated that he was actually worried about what he should wear.

He finally decided on wearing a black collared button up shirt with dark blue jeans and black trainers. Harry chose a dark navy blue cardigan with black knitted lines through the ends of his sleeves. He buttoned the cardigan with trembling fingers.

"You trying to impress someone special, mate?" Ron said as he had come upstairs to their dorms and found Harry with a lot of his muggle clothes splayed out on the bed as he had been trying to see what to wear.

Harry jumped at Ron's sudden voice behind him and turned around swiftly. He shook his head quickly.

"Then what are you doing?" Ron said as he smirked at him. Then he was sniffing the air. "Are you wearing cologne?"

Harry felt the heat rise in his face.

"Come on, whose the girl?" Ron pressured him.

Harry looked at the ground suddenly. Why had he dressed nicely and put on cologne and brushed his teeth twice and combed his hair neatly?

"Tell me, it's not Cho is it?" Ron said.

Harry shook his head quickly once again. He was lost in thought and he was confused about what he was doing. Had he really been trying to look nice…for _Snape?_ He sat down on his bed suddenly as he could no longer feel his legs. What was happening? Why was his heart beating so quickly? He felt so out of place and so scared now. He suddenly wished Snape had never asked him to have dinner with him. But something in his head was telling him he had to go; something was telling him that not going would be so cruel somehow.

"What time is it?" Harry signed numbly.

"Fifteen to six, why?" Ron said.

Harry jumped to his feet and hurried off downstairs to the common room and Ron rushed after him.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked.

Harry honestly could not come up with a lie to tell Ron why he wouldn't be having dinner in the Great Hall so he signed:

"I'll see you later."

He hurried out of the portrait hole and down the flights of stairs and tried not to run so fast to the dungeons. He reached Snape's office and waited for a moment as he caught his breath and then with mustered courage and trying to forget if he looked ok or not he knocked on the man's office door.

Harry was surprised to see that when Snape answered he was wearing muggle clothing as well. He wore a dark blue dress shirt over black slacks and his black overcoat. Snape also had a nice scent about him much like Harry did and this made him feel even more embarrassed than he already was. Harry glanced at the man's shiny black dress shoes. He realized for some reason that Snape's clothing always looked expensive.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," Snape greeted him.

"Hi…" was all Harry could manage to sign.

"Please come in," Snape said.

Harry stepped inside the man's office and he had expected to see some sort of dinner table set up but it was just as he had seen it on Friday night.

"We…will be having dinner in my private quarters," Snape said. "If that's alright with you?"

Harry had to play what Snape had said over in his mind to understand it. Private quarters? Well he knew that teachers had their own rooms but he never guessed at what they might be like. Harry simply nodded stiffly as he stood there in the middle of Snape's office.

"Follow me," Snape said.

Harry held his breath as he walked over to the farthest wall and through the door that Snape always went through to get their tea. Harry was met with what he guessed was an entry hallway. Snape closed the door behind them and led the way into a fine looking sitting room with a big fireplace outlined by shiny gray marble. The fire was already lit. Before the fireplace was a black glass coffee table and a black rug underneath it. There was a long black leather couch and a matching armchair. The room was lit up by a large metal lantern-like object that hung from the ceiling and a strong ball of light was within the glass. Harry had never seen anything like it before. There was a black wooden cabinet against the far wall but Harry couldn't see what it held because the glass framing was black as well.

There were a few things Harry did not know what they were displayed neatly on the mantel of the fireplace. There were many bookshelves that lined the walls of the sitting room and there was a circular black wooden table with a set of matching chairs off to Harry's right. The walls were of stone as was the floor but everything in the sitting room looked so neat and clean and refined, just like Snape.

"As you can tell this is the sitting room," Snape said. "If you would join me I'll take you to the dining room."

Harry nodded stiffly once more and Snape lead the way. Harry walked down the few stoned steps that were before the couch and followed Snape into the next room separated by an archway and once through the archway to Harry's left there was a dimly lit long stretch of hallway and a few wooden doors with brass knobs. Harry wondered what was behind those doors. He was surprised to see in front of him a circular dining room with another strange matching lamp hanging from the ceiling that lit up the room. Harry noticed it was dimmer than the one in the sitting room. The high dining table was square and made of a fine, shiny black wood with corresponding chairs with black cushions.

The table was already set and Harry was wondering if Snape just had fine tastes. The plates were as fancy as ever with gold lining. They were set on dark blue cloth place mats. Harry noticed that much like in high class restaurants there was too much silverware set around the plates and he had no idea of what the arrangement meant and could only guess that the smallest plate with the butter knife was used for buttering bread.

"Sit please," Snape said and Harry's heart sped up when Snape pulled his chair out for him. He sat quickly. "I shall just be a moment." Harry watched the man go through a door to his right which he guessed lead to the kitchen.

He gently scooted his chair forward. Harry prayed that his nervousness would go away soon but the scenery of it all was somehow too flattering. He had never expected a professor's personal quarters to be like this, it was like Snape had a fancy flat or something. He couldn't stop staring at everything. Harry for some reason despite knowing how Snape was very proper expected to see at least some dust here or there but everything was too clean, well organized and refined, matching the owner completely however Harry expected to see silver or green somewhere to match Slytherin's colors but there was nothing like that. There were no pictures hung up either. It was strange to be in this place, Snape's _personal_ quarters and Harry couldn't stop himself from feeling self-conscious.

His eyes fell on the centerpiece upon the dining table. It might have been a candle holder but it was brass and the metal was intertwined together almost like vines and there were three raised areas, one higher than the last and upon each placement were blue orb shaped glasses and within the orbs were small lit candles. Harry had never expected such creativity from Snape of all people. He held his hands together on his lap and they were trembling. He was trembling and he could feel it all the way up to his neck. He pleaded with his body and his heart to calm down. He had too many thoughts running through his head. Despite the fact that they were in the dungeons Snape's personal quarters had a homey feel to them oddly enough even though there weren't any windows. Harry waited for what was only about five minutes but it seemed like an hour to him. Snape came out from the door to his right and Harry got a brief glance of the kitchen inside.

It was odd to see Snape holding a glass serving bowl filled with a nicely prepared salad. A sudden thought struck Harry. Had Snape actually made the salad? Harry denied it quickly but he couldn't help but be curious. Had house elves brought the food? Did the teacher's kitchens work like the Great Hall's tables where the food was transferred by magic to them? He had no idea and Snape was suddenly saying:

"I hope this is to your liking."

It was very surreal as Snape had set the bowl down gently and served Harry some of the salad with silver salad severs. It was the reality that Snape had owned salad servers that made Harry feel like he was dreaming. Yes, this all felt very much like a dream and he hadn't expected dinner with Snape to go at all like this. He thought it would have taken place in Snape's office like when they had tea together instead of Snape actually inviting him into his personal quarters, his _private_ rooms and this was why Harry was more than nervous. He couldn't help but think how many people actually got invited to Snape's personal quarters and he stopped thinking quickly because he knew such thoughts would lead him to more personal thoughts that should never ever enter his mind.

He watched Snape serve himself and then looked down at his own plate. The green salad glistened with dressing and was mixed nicely with grated cheese, and baby tomatoes. Snape sat down and Harry was somehow surprised to see the man had his wand in his hand. He tapped the salad bowl and it vanished and he tapped the table. Harry almost flinched when a white glass bowl appeared with steaming fresh French rolls that were nestled together on a white cloth. Snape tapped his water glass and both he and Harry's filled themselves with sparkling water.

It was different to be tended to by Snape rather than a waitress. It made Harry feel like he was the guest and Snape was the host which was how obvious the situation was. Why had he thought it would be like going to The Fish Bowl? He didn't know but he waited until Snape set his wand down and spoke softly to Harry:

"Thank you for joining me Mr. Potter."

Harry was too nervous and he clumsily signed:

"Thank you for having me. This is…quite nice."

The heat was so present in his cheeks he doubted that Snape wouldn't be able to notice. Everything was quite nice. The plates, the silverware, the glasses, the lit candles, the whole room, this whole setting of Snape's was more than "quite nice". It was then that Snape had taken up what Harry assumed was the salad fork and Harry mimed him because he honestly had no idea what fork to use. There was silence despite the soft sounds of their forks upon the plates. The salad, even though it was salad, was delectable and Harry's tongue was aware of every different taste and the Vinaigrette dressing was somehow richer than he had ever tasted before.

He ate with as much mannerisms as he could and stiffly buttered a roll. Even the butter dish was silver and Harry caught his reflection in it. The roll was hot and delicious. There wasn't much distance between Harry and Snape. Everything was in arm's reach and Harry was grateful that Snape didn't own a long dining table because that would have been more awkward.

"Is it good?" Snape's voice met his ears as Harry had taken his napkin from his lap with his shaky hands and dabbed his lips with it. He had never "dabbed" anything before he didn't think but he really didn't know how to be as refined as Snape. He placed the black cloth napkin back upon his lap.

"It's wonderful," Harry signed.

"I remembered what salad you liked best from the muggle restaurant and attempted to copy it, I would think the dressing might be a bit more flavorful however," Snape said.

And then Harry realized that Snape had made the salad himself. He felt dizzy all of a sudden and drank a bit of water and tried to catch his thoughts that seemed to go all over the place in his mind. Snape was an adult, a wizard but an adult, and adults, despite having house elves running about the castle unseen, should know how to cook for themselves but still Harry just couldn't accept the fact that Snape had made a salad. He felt overwhelmed by all the things that he could see that all belonged to Snape and to know that this man had made their dinner and for it to taste much better than the salad served at The Fish Bowl…Harry honestly was shocked.

"It tastes better than…what the restaurant served…" Harry signed nervously. It was just a salad and yet Harry could tell the differences and for this salad to be superior to what The Fish Bowl had to offer; it must be an amazing salad. Harry really needed to stop thinking the word salad; it was making his nerves worse. The words "Snape's salad" somehow came together in his mind and he hated his thought process at the moment.

Harry had begun to think he really might be dreaming all of this; it wasn't like he hadn't had weird dreams before.

_No!_ Harry's mind hissed at him. _Don't think about _that_ dream!_

When their salads were finished Snape tapped his wand on his plate and their plates vanished and in place of them Harry's eyes fell on the main course which to his surprise was French Onion Soup served in the exact same traditional bowls he had seen at the restaurant. But even this French Onion soup looked and smelt somehow more delectable than what he had eaten at the restaurant. Harry wondered if Snape had used magic like Mrs. Weasley often did to help her in the kitchen and he concluded that Snape did because even though he had made the dinner Harry could tell Snape wasn't the kind of man to go about a kitchen and chop up vegetables himself.

Harry had somehow gotten lost in the setting of it all because it started to become comfortable now. As he sat there and remembered how they had been at the diner his nerves were fading and his mind was filled with memories that he had really enjoyed. Despite that he had tried to look nice for the occasion, despite that he worried far too much than it was worth over their dinner, Harry couldn't feel like this was wrong. Surely others would see it as wrong. He didn't think many students had dinner with a teacher alone in their private rooms and have said dinner made by said teacher.

"How is it Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry set down his spoon lightly and signed:

"It's really good…" Harry really couldn't stop himself from asking: "So do you cook a lot?"

"Not generally," Snape answered. "However over the summer I cook quite often for myself."

"Did you teach yourself?" Harry signed.

"Yes," Snape said. "I wasn't the greatest at first."

"I think you're being modest," Harry signed. "Because this…" He gestured to the soup and smiled. "It's brilliant."

"I think you're being too kind," Snape said. "And you're the modest one out of the two of us."

Harry smiled brighter and looked down. Months ago he had never imagined this scene being possible but now, now it seemed almost ordinary.

"Your place…it's very you…" Harry signed and he didn't know how to word the statement.

"Well I do like things kept and simple," Snape said.

"I expected it to be slightly…darker," Harry signed.

Snape smirked at his comment and Harry had to bite his lip lightly to keep from laughing. They finished the main course and once again Snape had their plates vanish. Before Harry could wonder if there would be dessert a small dish of Snape's preferred choice of dessert appeared in place of the main course. This Honey Blancmange was ladled in blueberries and raspberries. It was very delicious and sweet and smooth. Harry wondered why Snape liked this dessert above anything else. Harry found the detail that Snape had made their dinner to almost match their first lunch together quite special somehow; it was meaningful, almost thoughtful and Harry knew regardless of what he had seen in that awful memory in the Pensieve that Snape _could_ be very thoughtful and very kind and Harry admired that greatly.

The table was cleared instantly when they were all done with another tap Snape's wand and Harry wondered if he would be able to do such easy work with his magic one day. The only thing that stayed on the table was the centerpiece whose candles Harry guessed were everlasting like the Great Hall's.

"Would you like to move to the sitting room?" Snape asked and Harry wondered why he sounded somewhat nervous.

Harry was quick to nod to reassure the man that he didn't mind staying even though they had finished their dinner. He didn't expect Snape to prolong his stay but the man seemed to want to keep Harry in his company.

"I have that Butterbeer drink that you like, would you care for a bottle?" Snape said as they stood.

"Yes, thank you," Harry signed. He doubted the man actually drank Butterbeer himself.

"You can sit down on the couch," Snape said before he left into the kitchen.

Harry walked over to the sitting room down the few steps and looked around once again. He sat down gingerly. The couch was comfortable and the fire made everything pleasant. Harry did like it here, he had to admit. Snape had made it welcoming even though it had felt awkward at first. He waited and Snape came back carrying two bottles of chilled Butterbeer.

When Snape sat next to him Harry's heart suddenly sped up. He had never sat like this with Snape before; not this close. There was usually empty space between them but now as Harry's body was slightly turned to face the man as was Snape's his knee was almost touching the man's leg. Snape had long legs because he was tall and the fabric of his dress pants tightened around the muscle…Harry forced his eyes up to see Snape's face. Snape had set the bottles down upon the table and opened the bottle caps with a tap of his wand. He handed Harry his bottle and Harry took it with a slight nod of thanks.

There was silence as he drank the cold beverage and Harry watched Snape drink from his own bottle.

"It's a bit too sweet for my liking," Snape said as he looked down at the dark brown bottle.

Harry held his Butterbeer and smiled. Snape turned to look at Harry and asked:

"Have you finished that list of yours, Mr. Potter?"

Harry set the bottle down upon the table and signed:

"Not really, it's taking me a while to…figure it out." Harry looked down. His heart was racing. He remembered the dream and before he could stop himself and before Snape could reply he was signing:

"Would you mind…calling me by my first name? I mean…we're friends and friends call each other by their first names…" Harry couldn't look at Snape as he signed and his lips moved to the words. His face was on fire and he wished he could take it back. "If you want to…you can call me by my first name…" He added as he was looking down. His vision seemed to be shaking and he realized it was because his body was trembling again. Why had he asked Snape such a thing? Did he really want it that badly? Did it mean something to him for Snape to call him by his first name? It did. It meant more to him than he could understand at the moment. Because he wasn't his father, he was just Harry, a boy who had never known his parents and he and Snape, they were friends and if Snape was his friend then "Mr. Potter" or "Potter" wouldn't due. It just made Harry feel as if he were a student to Snape and nothing more and he couldn't deny that deep down, if he really searched for it, he wanted to hear Snape say it.

Harry's eyes finally found the courage to look up and those dark eyes were on him and there was silence and he wondered what Snape was thinking. A sudden pressure felt like it was building up in-between them. Was he angry? Harry suddenly felt stupid and he was about to tell Snape never mind until:

"Harry."

He was worried his heart might have stopped. There had been many people who called him by his first name, so many people and yet when Snape had just said it; just one word spoken delicately, carefully, lightly as if handling those fine water glasses of his. It sounded so suddenly different, so unfamiliar; _so_ important. Harry was lost in his shock as he sat there, slightly leaning his body to face Snape. The heat burned his cheeks and his lips felt numb and his fingertips tingled.

"When we are not in class and are in the company of each other I will call you Harry," Snape was saying and Harry felt the jolt again in his heart and he realized he wasn't breathing and he hadn't blinked.

He should breathe, it would be best to breathe now. Harry took in a breath softly and blinked quickly and looked away from the man. What was this feeling that seemed to be etched so deep within him? It was pushing against the ache in his chest, almost battling with it.

"Harry…" Snape called softly. "Are you alright?"

Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to ask Snape to call him by his first name because Harry's face wouldn't stop burning and his stomach felt fluttery. When Snape said his name it just made him feel like he enjoyed it _too_ much and he had the feeling that Snape might be amused by what it did to him. He tried to get back his composure and simply nodded in reply and glanced at Snape who was sitting there looking at him.

"Harry," Snape said again and Harry had to look away quickly as his hands gripped at his knees. He felt hot along the collar and suddenly wished he hadn't buttoned the top button of his dress shirt. "What do you usually do for your enjoyment?"

Harry paused for a moment and had to try to focus on the sudden question. He did lots of things he supposed to pass the time. He played Chess with Ron, he played Exploding Snap, he played lots of silly games with his friends but Chess seemed to be the only mature thing he did, something adult.

"Chess…" Harry signed. "I'm not too great at it but I like playing chess."

"Would you like to play chess then?" Snape asked.

Harry knew if he said yes he would lose miserably. Snape was obviously the type of person who was good at most games that required logic and skill but he nodded still. Snape stood and walked over to one of the many book shelves by the entry hall and opened one of the placed drawers and pulled out a black box.

"Let's play over here," Snape said as he set the box on the round table. Harry got up quickly and picked up his Butterbeer and Snape's and walked up the few steps and to the table. Harry set the bottles down and pulled out one of the heavy chairs and sat down.

Snape lifted the top of the black box and to Harry's surprise revealed a muggle chessboard with cobalt and white marble game pieces and a marble chess board of dark blue and white squares. Harry wondered why Snape would own a muggle chessboard but he guessed that if Snape owned muggle clothing then it was possible. Perhaps Snape didn't enjoy the ruckus that would ensue on a wizard's chessboard since the pieces destroyed one another.

Snape took the chess set out of the box. Harry guessed there was a charm on the board to keep the pieces from moving unless someone moved them intentionally because when Snape set the board down all of the pieces stayed still.

"You can be white so you can go first, Harry," Snape said as he sat down in the chair across from Harry.

Harry was nervous as he wondered how he should begin the game against Snape and with a trembling hand he moved one of his pawns forward; the marble soft and cold against his fingers. As they played Harry questioned if Snape was taking it easy on him because they seemed slightly evenly matched until the end when Harry made a mistake and Snape wound up winning.

"You can't expect me to believe you were trying," Harry signed slightly annoyed as his face was somewhat flushed.

"I was just testing your skill level," Snape answered but Harry caught that tone in his voice which sounded like he was mocking him.

"We'll play again," Harry signed.

"Is that your determined face?" Snape said as he began to set the pieces up again and was looking at Harry.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Now you're angry," Snape taunted and Harry couldn't believe how easily he did it.

"You…" Harry pointed at Snape. The man was just sitting there looking all too confident and composed while Harry was disheveled.

"You can go first again," Snape said.

They played many games and Harry lost every one of them in ways he had never thought possible. He didn't doubt that Snape could probably beat anyone at chess. No matter what Harry tried Snape kept changing the way he played. First he would take his time to decide where to move his piece when it was his turn and then in a different game he would be as fast as ever to move his chessmen. Harry couldn't keep up and easily became distracted because Snape kept saying things to tease him and every time Snape would say "Harry" he would lose the thought of where he wanted to move next.

"You could move your king here if you'd like," Snape was saying as he pointed to the specific area on the board as Harry was gritting his teeth in concentration.

"You're not helping," Harry signed quickly.

"I am helping," Snape said.

"You're trying to sabotage me," Harry signed.

Harry would never have guessed Snape could be the kind of person that would not only stop being cruel to him and stop insulting him but to actually be kind and helpful as well as pick on him every chance he got. Snape was good at it as well since he was so good with words. Harry held his breath as he finally took his turn and Snape quickly moved his queen and said:

"Check mate."

Harry stared at the board in amazement and then looked to Snape who was smirking at him, almost smiling at him.

"I give up…" Harry signed as he leaned back against the chair. "It's impossible."

"You did your best, Harry," Snape said and Harry knew it was a sarcastic remark but still Harry smiled. He liked Snape this way even if he was teased. They were friends and Harry was having a lot of fun.

"Have you read all of these?" Harry signed as he gestured to the all of the books.

"Not all of them," Snape answered as he put the chess board away.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Harry signed as Snape looked to him.

"Not at all," Snape answered.

Harry stood and walked toward the nearest bookcase and read a few titles. Most of these books Harry had never even heard of before and a lot of the titles had words in perhaps a different language because Harry couldn't pronounce them. He moved along slowly and came to another bookshelf and found a small interesting looking book nestled between two larger ones. He didn't think it right to touch it though.

"The Tales of Beetle the Bard," Snape's velvety voice spoke behind Harry and he had to stop himself from flinching. The man was standing right behind him and Harry could smell the fine cologne he wore. Harry's heart sped up as Snape leaned forward somewhat and with his hand reaching out he took the small book from the shelf and held it for Harry to take. Harry's hands took the book gently. It seemed slightly old and the cover depicted an odd drawing of a wizard holding a quill and a book with symbols on either page. Harry was reminded of Dumbledore for some reason. The cover was green but the color had faded in the material and the tiny gold trim of diamonded lines didn't have much shine left.

"It's a children's book," Snape said. "A mere collection of bedtime stories."

Harry wondered why Snape would own a children's book. He guessed this book contained fairytales for wizards and witches. Snape came away from him and Harry watched as he grabbed a book for himself and walked back to the couch. Harry followed almost absentmindedly as he carried _The Tales of Beetle the Bard_ with him. Snape sat down and Harry sat down next to him. He didn't know what time it was or what he would tell Ron or Hermione when he got back to the common room and for some reason, maybe it was the recklessness in him, he hardly cared. Snape made him feel better, he put his mind at ease and Harry found himself able to smile so easily around the man now. He felt like he would stay here until Snape was the one who decided he had to leave.

"Harry…" Snape said with that lightness in his voice and he felt his fingertips tingle once again.

Harry was staring at the fireplace and he moved his head to stare at Snape.

"You should like yourself," Snape's voice seemed to caress his senses and Harry couldn't help but lose himself in those dark depths that were the man's eyes. His facial features seemed to stand out with the light of the flames as the lamp's light had grown dim as the time had passed. Harry didn't understand where his thoughts were taking him as he blinked softly and his heart quivered. His heart just wouldn't rest.

"Why?" Harry's hands moved on their own. "Why should I like myself?" It was as if he was being controlled by someone other than himself. This moment felt different than all the others he had with Snape. Maybe it was because Snape looked so real, maybe it was because Harry felt all of his body and his breath was tense and his shoulders were stiff, maybe it was because he didn't care about anything but Snape and himself, sitting here, anywhere and for seconds there was nothing else.

"There's hardly anything not to like," Snape replied after a moment and that was all he said before looking away and opening the book with its black cover and a golden title.

Harry understood just how much Snape had changed and somewhere in Harry's mind he asked himself who had Snape changed for? Was it really for him? Was it really just because Snape could see Harry now and not his father? Could Snape do such a thing?

He looked down at the old book in his hand and began to gently flip through it and came across one of the short stories titled: _The Tale of the Three Brothers. _This title intrigued him more than _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot _or_ The Warlock's Hairy Heart. _Harry didn't know why Snape had suddenly grown silent but he began to read the story:

_ There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water…_

Harry felt all too warm and comfortable as he sat on the couch close to Snape, quite close. He could almost feel the man's body heat. He was sleepy and he didn't know what time it was. It must be late. Harry's eyes read heavily over the words trying to fight against just how relaxed he felt:

_They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning._

Harry could barely feel himself as he read the line over:

_But Death was cunning. _

His eyes were so heavy as they kept closing gently and each time it took more of an effort to open them. Something in his drowsy mind told him he couldn't fall asleep here but he was so warm and tired and comfortable and he couldn't feel his head tilting ever so slowly sideways and it rested against Snape's upper arm but he was already asleep before then.

Someone was calling him in a whisper. A strong hold was on him, a touch, a certain contact that pulled him from darkness, pulled him from a world where time didn't exist.

"Harry…"

Harry's eyes opened and blinked because of the sudden light of the fire that he could see behind Snape who was standing before the couch and Harry was horizontal somehow. As sleep left him he realized he was half lying down on the couch while his feet were slightly touching the floor. Where was he? And as soon as he asked himself that question he sat up straight quicker than anything with wide eyes and realized he had fallen asleep on Snape's couch.

"I'm sorry," Harry signed and his hands felt numb. "What time is it?" He straightened his glasses.

"Eleven thirty," Snape answered as he was standing before Harry casting a shadow over him.

_Eleven thirty! _Harry shouted in his head and he stood quickly and through his half-state of awareness he looked up at Snape.

"Why did you let me sleep?" he signed.

"Well…" Snape began and he seemed bemused.

"I have to get back," Harry signed quickly.

"I'll escort you," Snape said.

Harry realized that _The Tales of Beetle the Bard _had fallen when he stood up from the couch. He bent down to pick it up and he handed it back to Snape who took it gently and placed it on the table. Snape stared at Harry for a moment and then said:

"We should go."

Harry nodded his head. He was trying to wake himself up completely as they left Snape's personal quarters. The chill in the dungeons did that for him as he immediately began to shiver. Harry prayed his friends had just gone to bed instead of waiting for him to get back. How was he going to explain it to them?

_I had dinner with Snape tonight and played chess with him and we chatted on his couch for a bit and then I fell asleep while reading one of his books. _Harry couldn't tell them that! What was he going to do? He could say Snape was giving him extra lessons. No, Ron had seen him getting ready for that evening, why was everything so difficult? What exactly did telling the truth mean? That he and Snape were friends? That's exactly what it meant and he couldn't face their questions right now, questions that he probably couldn't answer himself at the moment.

There was silence between them and the corridors were very dark as Snape had his wand out that gave off the bright glow. Harry's heart was pounding. When they reached the portrait entrance Snape said softly:

"I enjoyed our time tonight."

"Me too. Thank you for dinner and everything…" Harry signed with nervous hands.

"Good night, Harry," Snape said.

"Good night," Harry signed back.

Snape said the password in a whisper and turned quickly and walked into the darkness and Harry watched the light from Snape's wand moving about. He then climbed through the portrait hole and to his great disappointment Ron and Hermione had been waiting for him. Ron immediately got up from the armchair he had been sleeping in and hurried over to him.

"Where have you been?" Ron hissed.

Hermione woke suddenly from the couch and looked around and as soon as she spotted Harry she got to her feet and said:

"Harry! What happened?"

Harry's brain seized up as he just stared at his two friends.

"Who is it? Who have you been snogging?" Ron demanded suddenly.

Harry felt his cheeks burn.

"I wasn't…" Harry began to sign.

"You know how long we've been waiting for you? First you go off and miss dinner and don't tell us where you're going and then you show up at almost midnight. You had to of been with someone to get in here," Ron was giving Harry an accusing look. "I was about to get your map out and find you that way."

Harry's eyes widened and he suddenly grew agitated.

"That would have been an invasion of my privacy," Harry signed quickly.

"Harry, we were worried about you, you heard Dumbledore's speech," Hermione said as her arms were crossed. "If a teacher found you, you would've been in a lot of trouble."

"So who's the girl Harry? Is it someone we know?" Ron continued.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He didn't really know why he felt so defensive or why Ron was so interested in who he had been with for over five hours.

"It's none of your business," Harry signed as he walked past them. He should have put on his Cloak before he went in.

"None of my business?" Ron repeated. "I'm your best friend; we're supposed to talk about these things!"

Harry turned around swiftly.

"Just leave it ok?" Harry signed roughly. "I'm going to bed." He rushed quickly up the stairs and he heard Hermione say:

"Don't pressure him Ron; he doesn't have to tell us…"

Harry undressed quickly and put on his pajamas and used the restroom and washed his face. He got into bed. He lay there for some time listening to the snores of his dorm mates before Ron came up and went to bed himself without saying anything to Harry. Harry was left to his own thoughts. The dinner had been nice; everything had gone better than he had hoped for despite falling asleep on Snape's couch. How had he woken up lying down? Why didn't Snape wake him up sooner? What had happened while he had been asleep? Harry closed his eyes. He felt a certain warmth lingering in his chest and his body tingled with bliss. Why did he feel like laughing? Like smiling? Why did he feel so happy? Snape had said his name so many times and he just couldn't stop his mind from remembering exactly how it sounded. He honestly couldn't remember his own voice and as he drifted off to sleep he didn't mind that the voice that lingered in his thoughts belonged to Snape.

* * *

**Once again I apologize for not being able to put this chapter up sooner. I really hope no one was disappointed and that everyone enjoyed it. I hope everyone can review. Thank you again for reading and for your support. **

**Note: I am horrible at chess and I apologize if there are any errors. I will have the next chapter up as soon as possible. : )**


	23. Chapter 22: What You See

**Some text has been used from Book 5 and Book 6. Some dialogue has been used from Movie 5.**

* * *

**Chapter 22: What You See**

He was thankful that they could be alone together because then he was free to be himself. He had never thought he could live in mere moments. To live in such a way where one forgot about time, forgot about responsibility, forgot about purpose. It was like a dream where no one could reach them. It made him forget exactly who he was and who he had been; no one had ever made him feel this way before, he was sure of it. What choice had he made that led him down this path? He wanted such moments to never die but they faded into the next like shadows made by the sun.

He was absolutely fixated. He knew this because he was doing things that he would never do for anyone else no matter what. He wanted to do anything, be anything, give anything to see those eyes, to see a smile. He was a servant to it; he bowed to it, yielded himself because he knew no other way. It was the only thing that would save him; it was the only thing that set him free. He had found his soul again, found his heart, found his way and he could strive now, he could survive, he could have a certain kind of faith.

Severus stood before the mirror in his room looking at himself as if he had never seen his reflection before. He buttoned up his dress shirt with quick fingers without once looking down. He buttoned the cuffs and folded down his collar. He couldn't remember when he had become such a distinguished man who cared for such things like clothes or furniture. Perhaps it was just a single part of him that he had never been aware of. Tonight would be worth the time he spent perfecting everything.

He had never cooked for two before and had never worried so much about the taste of a meal but he had made the food with much care and attention to detail. He wasn't trying to impress but rather make everything ideal for Potter. He didn't think he could ever be the kind of person to become attached to anything, not since he was young. Severus was an adult and he was sensible and well learned but none of that mattered when he saw Potter. He didn't matter. All that really mattered was that the boy was happy. He wanted nothing more than to heal him. He wanted nothing more than to take away any kind of pain, any kind of suffrage. He could do it, he could be the one; it was what he desired.

Severus took his time to get ready. He shaved every morning but tonight he paid extra close attention when he did. He had never made himself so presentable before. He had never felt this nervous before. He could have laughed at himself because he felt so not like himself or his former self to be correct. Perhaps he was trying too hard. However, when he had greeted Potter that night he noticed that he wasn't the only one. It was appealing. He made sure they could be alone together. He took easy notice of how tense and timid the boy was.

He had enjoyed their dinner, much more than he thought he would have. He took in everything that the boy did, he watched those hands carefully, studied the body language, studied those eyes and he did it all almost greedily. Potter was kind with his compliments on his cooking. He realized that all he really cared for was what the boy thought of him; that seemed to take hold of him, made him second guess himself. When the meal was over Severus couldn't stop himself from sitting ever so near to Potter. He preferred to be close to him.

He watched that face when Potter asked him to call him by his first name, he watched the want in that face, the silent hopefulness and Potter's body was trembling softly. It was a request, a personal request and he knew he could not deny this request but he was suddenly aware of that line once more, the line in which he stood dangerously on. If he crossed it there would be no turning back, if he crossed it then he would give in to his heart, and if he crossed it he would be giving Potter his trust unbeknownst to the boy. He had never trusted anyone in such a way that he wanted to trust Potter.

Those eyes found him and they were scared, exposed, defenseless and his own heart began to beat in a faster rhythm he wasn't used to. He was living in a moment, a private moment with just the two of them and how he wanted to reach out and touch that face, the color was so alive in that face, blushing, reserved, innocent. He waited in that particular moment that he did not know where it existed in the world. And he forgot about the dangers, the consequences, morals, standards or more like he didn't care for them anymore. He spoke the name for the first time almost devotedly, carefully, with a tenderness he didn't know he had possessed:

"Harry."

And so he crossed the line.

* * *

"Why?" The boy's hands signed with a nervousness he was used to. "Why should I like myself?"

He watched Harry carefully. Severus could see how much Harry wanted to know the answer and his words escaped him before he could catch them:

"There's hardly anything not to like."

He hadn't felt self-conscious in a long time and he had to look away, to distract himself because he had said such a thing to Harry. _Harry._ It was new to him; he had never really thought the name alone before in his mind and it sounded true, like it was well placed, where it was supposed to be. He felt a sudden tension in his chest; it made him feel so at ease and yet so terrified. He sat there and opened his book and out of the corner of his eye he could see Harry beginning to read those children's fables. Severus read without really paying attention. He knew Harry needed to go back to his dormitory but he really didn't want to send him away. Things were so calm, tranquil, easy. He read for a few more moments.

The sudden weighted touch on his arm almost startled him and he felt his entire body stiffen and his breathing ceased. Severus turned his head slowly and looked down at Harry's sleeping face. His chest was rising and falling so lightly and his body felt warm. Those hands held the open book limply. Severus set aside his book next to him without looking at it. His eyes traveled along the body. His heart, it pained him as it had begun to pound in his chest. He didn't know what he should do. Severus waited as he tried to calm himself. Harry's face looked so peaceful and if he listened carefully he could hear the gentle breaths. He couldn't wake him, he knew he couldn't. He waited for a long moment.

He hadn't meant to move at all but he suspected that his arm had twitched on its own and his breath was caught in him once again as Harry's head slipped and so carefully, as careful as he had ever been in his life it seemed, he gently guided Harry's head with his hands ever so slowly to rest upon his lap. He removed his right hand from under his head gently. Severus pleaded that Harry would not wake and to his relief he didn't and Severus was able to breathe once again. He looked to Harry's hands and so quickly and quietly with only moving his left arm did he grab hold of the small book as it had been about to fall out of Harry's limp hold. He placed it on the space of the couch that was before Harry's side.

Harry slept soundlessly. Severus felt the heat on his lap and he didn't know what to do with his hands as his left was somewhat suspended in mid air and his right was pressed into the couch by his right thigh. It was different to see Harry from this angle, to look upon his face and the heat within those cheeks. He wondered what he should do. Slowly he brought his left hand down and his fingertips brushed lightly against the dark brown hair that was soft. He repeated the motion and he listened to Harry's breathing. He stared down at him with his eyes half closed and Severus's face was calm, expressionless. It was as if looking at Harry's sleeping face was making him quite exhausted and despite himself he too fell asleep.

* * *

Severus had awoken quite abruptly and it took him only a second to realize he had been asleep as his neck was stiff from being tilted somewhat down. Harry was still very much asleep. He glanced at the small black clock on the mantel and read that it was 11:30pm. Severus inwardly criticized his carelessness. He had gotten too carried away with the situation but he hadn't been able to bring himself to wake Harry before. However he needed to wake him now. Once again using such carefulness he was not used to using he gently held Harry's head and moved out from under it by slowly sliding his body to his right. He softly laid Harry's head down and stood quickly. He took in the sight of Harry for a slight second and with much reluctance he woke him.

* * *

Harry awoke early on the morning of September 9th and was happy to know it wasn't raining and the sun was out. He showered and dressed quickly into his uniform and robes at the same time Ron was waking up with the rest of his dorm mates. Harry felt a pang of guilt as he looked at Ron who was also looking over him. Ron got out of bed and stood before Harry looking apprehensive. He felt in the wrong because he wasn't exactly telling Ron or Hermione what had been going on. He really couldn't understand why he didn't want to tell them about Snape and their friendship but right now as he himself was trying to figure it all out he knew it was best to keep it a secret even if they were his best friends, his family. He felt bad, ashamed even and not at all like a good friend but he couldn't face them with such a thing yet.

"Look…" Ron began. "I…I'm sorry for being an arse last night…I know there's always some things you should keep private…but…I just want you to know we really were worried about you, I mean with all that's happened to you already..."

Harry nodded slightly and he looked down at his shoes. He lifted his eyes and signed in reply:

"It's ok…I'm sorry for getting angry with you…"

Ron smiled somewhat and Harry smiled brightly.

"Get ready so we can have breakfast," Harry signed.

"Right," Ron said as he nodded his head.

Moments later they headed to the Great Hall with Hermione and their fellow Gryffindors. Harry sat there eating his cereal and jam on toast but he hardly heard whatever Ron and Hermione were talking about. He was lost in thought as he kept remembering the night before. It was really all he could think about. Harry couldn't stop wondering what had happened when he had fallen asleep. Why had Snape taken so long to wake him? He smiled as he remembered Snape calling him by his first name; it made his heart flutter. Harry was worried though because he felt a bit too happy that Snape had called him by it. His mind was also stuck within his predicament. Why had he tried to look nice for Snape? Why did his heart beat so fast when the man was near him? Why was it that when those eyes gazed into his own did he feel so vulnerable? He couldn't answer these questions and it frustrated him to no end.

Harry realized he hardly had any free time today besides his break before Charms. He had Charms, lunch, Potions then Quidditch tryouts then dinner then lessons with Snape but still he couldn't get himself to stop smiling. Even the thought of the word "dinner" he remembered last night, he recalled just how nice Snape had been and just how he felt when he was with Snape alone.

"Harry…Harry!"

Harry's blurred vision cleared as his eyes lifted up to see Ron who had been calling him.

"Are you going to stare at your spoon forever?" Ron said.

Harry looked down to see his spoonful of milk and cereal and his hand that held it up. He felt his face burn with embarrassment as he placed the spoon back down in his bowl. He wondered just how long he had held his spoon up to him while he was thinking of nothing else but Snape.

When breakfast was over Hermione said her goodbyes and hurried off to class while Harry and Ron went back to the Gryffindor common room. Harry stared out the window as he sat at a study table with Ron. It was nice to see the sun again. Harry had taken out his list once more and was trying to think of what to put down. Ron was correcting his Transfiguration essay. He remembered the few things Snape had told him to put down. Harry, in a moment of boldness, scribbled down as neat as he could:

_I'm kind._

He left out "extremely" as he just couldn't put it down. Harry remembered what Snape had told him on the couch last night. Did Snape really feel that way? He couldn't help but ask himself just what exactly were all these things that Snape liked about him? Harry held his head with his hand as his elbow was on the table. He seemed to have too many things to think about. He missed not being able to speak. He wondered how Snape felt about having to understand him through sign language. He felt self-conscious about it. He doubted that deaf people felt that way for long though, it was a part of them and they shouldn't feel ashamed but Harry couldn't help but feel just a bit insecure about his condition. He had tried not to think about it because he also knew he had low self-esteem. How could Snape like all these things about him? What could Harry not see what Snape saw?

As he listened to Ron mutter things as he went over Hermione's notes he thought about what exactly would get him to speak again but instead of coming to an answer all his thoughts lead him to Sirius. He missed him deeply, so much so. He missed Sirius's laugh, his voice, his manner. He crossed his arms over the table and laid his forehead down upon them to hide his face from Ron. It really did hurt too much to think about Sirius but if he fought the ache in his chest and the lump in his throat he could remember the man's face and how tightly he had held him that day.

_"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry. You're not a bad person. You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to. Besides, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."_

"Harry, you alright?" Ron's voice broke him out of the sudden memory and he had to blink away the tears that had been born in his eyes because of it before he lifted his head and nodded.

"Let's get to class mate."

Harry put away the list and stood. With a shaky hand he grabbed up his school bag and followed Ron out of the common room.

* * *

"Still can't speak, eh Potter?"

Malfoy's voice made Harry cringe. He turned around and glared at the boy.

"See you've got your little fan club into waving their hands around just like you," Malfoy said smugly.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron said.

"Yeah, leave him alone," Parvarti said as she had turned around to face the blond boy.

Harry hated how every chance Malfoy got to hassle him he would take it. He didn't care if Malfoy was angry with him for what happened to his father, who had deserved the sentence he got. He just wished the ferret boy would stop harassing him. He didn't want to get into any fights but every time Malfoy kept insulting him he couldn't help the anger that began to boil up in side of him. They weren't children anymore and yet Harry really just wanted to have a go at him, just one punch and he knew he would be satisfied.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at Parvarti and turned his back to continue talking with Crabbe and Goyle. They had been waiting outside the Charms classroom and a minute later were let inside by Professor Flitwick who had them all practicing simple nonverbal spells. While Ron and most of his classmates were struggling a bit with the Summoning Charm Harry had succeeded quite easily with Hermione as they had summoned their cushions to them from the pile on the table set up across the room.

Happy about his streak of earning points for Gryffindor from Flitwick he left the classroom with a red faced Ron and a smiling Hermione. However his happiness had dwindled when he got to Gryffindor table and saw a solemn looking Fourth Year boy reading the _Daily Prophet_ with a grim heading that another muggle family had been found murdered. Harry sat down with the rest of his 6th Year Gryffindors and felt the familiar feeling of dread take over him. He wasn't supposed to stress himself out but knowing that Voldemort and his followers were out there killing people, innocent people; it was as if it was tearing a hole in him when he thought about it. He wondered if the Ministry was just putting in those stories about raids to give people something to hope for. He knew parents were worried about their children even coming to Hogwarts despite Dumbledore being here.

Even though he was in a place full of people he felt quite alone at times. He wondered if it was just because of his condition. He would listen to everyone talk around him like his friends were doing now and he kept feeling the familiar urge to say something, to join them but he couldn't. He would have to get their attention so they could see what he wanted to say and even though many of his peers were learning sign language he didn't feel all that happy about it; he was thankful yes but he wanted his voice back, he didn't want to be permanently mute.

Harry sat there as he absent mindedly watched Ron practice the Summoning Charm nonverbally to get a sandwich to come to him. He felt tired all of a sudden and went back to thinking about what had happened on Snape's couch. He wondered if Snape would invite him to dinner again sometime. Harry watched Ron talk to Lavender and the girl was giggling and Ron looked happy. His eyes turned to Hermione who sat next to him and she looked agitated. His mind wondered back to the dinner he had with Snape. Had Snape ever had anyone over for dinner before? A sudden twinge of pain hit his chest. It had surprised him and then his mind was wandering off to thoughts he shouldn't be thinking. Had Snape ever had someone, someone who was special? He didn't know anything in any kind of detail that had to do with that part of Snape's personal life. Snape didn't seem like the kind person to really be in that kind of relationship.

Harry sighed silently. He shouldn't let his brain think that way. What was it to him if Snape had someone like that? Snape was a grown man, of course he had relationships. He felt the twinge again. Had Snape ever cooked for someone else before? Spent time with someone else the way he had spent time with Harry? He felt himself trembling ever so softly. When Snape had called him Harry there was so much worth in that voice and it made him feel _special_ to Snape. He shouldn't believe that, he knew he shouldn't. What was wrong with him? What was this all doing to him? It was beginning to become overwhelming. He glanced at the staff table and Snape wasn't there. What was this? This want to see Snape? This desire to tell him things, to converse with him, to connect with each other like they had done last night? With a flushed face as he lay his head down once again he thought he and Snape just didn't spend enough time together, or rather he just wanted to spend more time with him. It made him feel rather embarrassed.

* * *

Potions, to Harry's disclosure, was rather mind-numbing. Snape gave the 6th Year N.E.W.T. class a rather long lecture about Potion Antidotes and Golpalott's Third Law which despite how hard he tried to keep up with understanding Snape's explanation as that silky voice filled the room Harry was lost half way through and his penmanship was horrible as the hours dwindled down. Snape gave them all a demonstration on how to correctly brew certain types of antidotes and it was rare to see Snape working over a cauldron in class when his students were not.

Harry's lack of attentiveness could also be blamed on how he kept spacing out or found himself holding his quill letting the droplets of ink hit his notebook as he examined certain things about the Potions Master, like the way he looked down and those black locks of hair would frame his face casting a dark shadow over it or the way his hands worked with ingredients. When Harry realized just exactly what he was doing he would find his face burning and tried to salvage wherever he had been going with his notes. Hermione's notes, when Harry glanced over at her notebook, were neat and color coordinated. He would most likely need to ask her if he could have a look at them later to rescue his own notes.

At the end of class Snape announced that their homework was to write an essay describing in great detail the use of different Potion Antidotes and Golpalott's Third Law. Harry felt like his brain was sizzling in his head and his hand was cramping from all of his disastrous note taking. As everyone packed up their things Harry took his time packing away his things and gestured to Hermione that he would catch up to her. She looked at him for a moment and then nodded and left the classroom with the rest of his classmates. Harry gingerly walked up to Snape's desk with a nervous feeling in his heart. Snape was stacking papers and cleaning up his work area. He waited patiently by the man's desk. When Snape was done he smirked and turned to Harry.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Potter?" Snape said.

Harry was feeling his heart sink until Snape said:

"Joking, Harry."

Harry glared at the man. Snape placed a hand on his desk and looked at him.

"Does it mean so much to you?" Snape said softly with a certain blunt tone.

He felt his face flush and he quickly cast his eyes down but he nodded slowly none the less.

"You…don't mind…right?" Harry signed without looking at Snape.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Harry," Snape replied.

Harry nodded again and then he began to sign a bit clumsily:

"I…" He knew his face must be as red as ever.

"Yes?" Snape said lightly. He waited but Harry didn't continue. "Must you always be so timid around me?"

He looked up at Snape who was just standing there at the side of his desk with both hands behind him upon the desk somewhat leaning nonchalantly which was odd for Snape. The man seemed relaxed, unbothered, calm.

"I…just wanted to say…thank you…for being able to see me as me…and for everything…" Harry signed and bowed his head slightly and put his hands down.

There was silence in the cold classroom and Harry hated the silence as his hands held the end of his robe's sleeves.

"I believe I should be the one to say thank you," Snape said kindly.

Harry lifted his head and Snape was just staring at him. The man straightened himself and took up the stack of their homework.

"I'll see you tonight, _Harry_," Snape said and turned before he could reply.

Harry watched the man go through the door that was connected to his office. He waited for a moment before he remembered tryouts were to start soon. He hurried off.

* * *

He carried his Firebolt with him and met Ron and Hermione in the entrance hall. Ron had his Cleansweep with him. They began to make their way toward the Quidditch locker rooms and the grounds were still wet and they sloshed through the drowned grass and mud. When they arrived Hermione left, wishing Ron good luck, to go take a seat in the Quidditch pitch stands. Harry and Ron made their way into the boy's changing rooms where there was a group of Gryffindor boys all getting ready for their tryouts. It had been a while since he had put on his uniform and he remembered as he undressed why he had been banned last year. He could remember how angry he had been at Malfoy for insulting Ron's mum and dad but he couldn't describe the kind of fury he felt when Malfoy had insulted Harry's mother and how much satisfaction it gave him to sink his fist into Malfoy's face. He smiled at the memory as he tied up his leg and knee pads.

Ron was already looking quite terrified as he was white in the face. Harry gave him a slight punch to his arm as the two sat there on the bench.

"You'll do fine, don't worry," Harry signed. "Just focus."

Ron gave Harry a weak smile in return. When they were done changing they left the changing rooms and the cold wind outside blew back the capes of their jerseys. Harry saw that their captain, Katie Bell, was making her way over to the pitch a long with a few other girls including Ginny. Harry grimaced slightly. When they reached the Quidditch pitch Harry looked up at the stand and noticed there were quite a few people sitting here and there, mostly girls from every House and they seemed to get excited as Harry was looking at them. He turned away and found Luna and Hermione sitting together and Parvarti and Lavender sitting on a level below them. He waved and they waved back.

Katie Bell held her broom and the heavy case of Quidditch balls and Beater clubs with two hands. Harry stood by Ron who was looking at the group of applicants nervously. Harry saw a large, tall boy with short curly brown hair and Harry recognized the 7th Year as Cormac McLaggen and he now knew why Ron was looking so tense; Cormac looked like he would be able to stop anything from getting through those goal posts but Harry had a sense that the boy looked rather pretentious.

Katie had set the case down and opened it and pulled out the tiny Golden Snitch and walked over to Harry.

"Here Harry, you can go practice on your own, look busy," she said to him as she handed him the tiny ball. Harry noticed that she sounded breathless and he gave her a reassuring smile to let her know that she had this. He knew she would put a good team together.

Harry turned to Ron and gave him a slap on the back for encouragement and mounted his broom and took off. There was a different kind of freedom that he felt when he was soaring over the Quidditch pitch and the chilled air hit his face and picked up his short hair. It was good to be back up here, it felt so much better than being around people, his didn't feel that anxiety or tightness in his chest, he felt fine up here as he looked down at the group of Gryffindors who had all gathered around Katie Bell. He hovered there for moments listening to the captain explain what they would all be doing. Her loud voice carried over the wind.

"Hi Harry!"

Harry heard the group of girls call to him even from as far up as he was. He gave them a half smile and they clapped their hands and giggled. Harry let out a sigh and went back to watching the group of hopeful applicants. Katie had them all test their flying skills first as they all flew around the pitch but most of the First Year applicants could barely keep themselves up in the air so they were easily sent away by Katie who was on her own broom now. Harry cringed when a Second Year crashed into one of the goal posts.

After Katie had let down the stragglers easily she had the ones who wanted to try out to be Chasers demonstrate their speed and it was then that Harry let the Snitch go and it took off in blur of gold. He went after it with much speed and did a swift spiral as he caught it a moment later. He did this a few more times and then glided over the pitch, circling high above like a hawk watching the possible Chasers try to out fly one another and dodge Bludgers and score goals in the posts. In the end Katie chose Demelza Robbins and Ginny Weasley to accompany herself as Chasers for the team. Harry felt guilty as he had half wished Ginny wouldn't make it on the team but she was a fast flyer, not nearly as fast as him, but good enough since she had out flown the rest of the applicants.

It was time for the Beaters to try out next. Harry watched as Katie instructed them all and had to dodge a Bludger twice as it was hit with such a ferocious strike by a boy named Jimmy Peakes who was a Third Year with a broad chest and was Harry's height but much bulkier.

"Sorry Harry!" Peakes called as he whacked the Bludger again.

Harry laughed silently. Many of the girls in the stand had booed Jimmy Peakes but Harry admired his grit. Katie wound up choosing Jimmy and a boy named Ritchie Coote who had good aim. He was tall and skinny but he showed promise. Then it was the moment Harry had been waiting for as both Hermione and Lavender cheered in the stands for Ron. Harry flew up higher past the goal posts and nearer to the stands just as Ron and the rest of the applicants for the position of Keeper took off to both sets of the goal posts.

"Come on Ron," Harry's lips moved to the silent words.

The first few applicants were hardly able to stop any of the shots Katie made and then it was McLaggen's turn. He didn't miss any of the first four penalties and as Harry's eyes traveled over the pitch he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was a bright gleam and he realized Hermione's bracelet had caught the sun and she had taken her wand out and as everyone else was watching Katie take the last penalty shot Hermione had her eyes on Cormac McLaggen. Harry watched the concentration in her eyes and looked quickly back to Cormac who shot off in the completely wrong direction and the crowd laughed and booed.

_So Slytherin of you, Hermione_, Harry thought with a smirk as Hermione put her wand away quickly and was looking around to see if anyone had noticed that she had Confunded Cormac. Harry was honest but he knew he would never let anyone know what Hermione had done. He found it quite kind of Hermione actually because as it was Ron's turn now he was looking so very white in the face.

Harry let the Snitch go and clapped loudly for his best friend.

"Good luck!" cried Lavender Brown from the stands.

Harry was nervous as he caught the Snitch out of thin air as it passed him without looking at it. He silently prayed for Ron but as Katie took her penalty shots on him he realized everything would be just fine because Ron saved all five in a row, however desperately, but he saved them all none the less. Harry soared down to the pitch as Ron did shakily as well. Harry landed, smiling, and let his broom down and ran up to Ron and hugged the boy tightly.

"I almost missed the last one," Ron breathed out as Harry came away and practically beamed up at Ron. Lavender was cheering loudly in the stands amongst the others.

Harry went to get his broom back as the excitement within him was shortening and he found Cormac arguing with Katie Bell to give him another try out and she was refusing. Cormac gritted his teeth and stalked off the field angrily. Their new team made a slight circle around Katie and Harry believed they had a good shot at winning the cup this year. After Katie told them their first practice would be on Thursday everyone was let go and Lavender had come down from the stands and hugged and congratulated Ron. Harry walked over to Katie who was putting everything back in the case and he handed her the Snitch and looked over at Hermione who was standing a little ways off from them looking irritated. He headed over to her and let his broom lean against him.

"I won't tell Ron what you did," Harry signed with a sly smile. "Because I'm your best friend too and I'm glad you did it."

Hermione's face flushed brightly as she understood Harry. He laughed silently and she smiled softly. Harry turned around and did Hermione a slight favor by hurrying over to Ron and dragging him away from Lavender to join him on his walk to the changing rooms.

* * *

If he could have looked back on this night he would be able to realize just how unprepared he was to face reality, if he could look back on this night he would rather forget it had ever happened. Harry had showered and dressed back into his uniform before he ate dinner and was now feeling the tightness in his muscles in legs and arms. It had been a good work out. He ate quickly as did Ron who had been famished after the tryouts. He ate his last roll topped with gravy in two bites and drank down some pumpkin juice.

"We'll see you, Harry," Hermione said as he stood up.

He waved to them all and smiled at the many who said "See you later," in sign language. He walked quickly to the dungeons to meet with Snape and he felt like skipping but that would be rather embarrassing so he tried to settle himself. He knocked politely on Snape's office door and Snape answered.

"Good evening, Harry," Snape said.

"Good evening," Harry signed and he entered the office. "I've been practicing those spells on your list that you gave me, I've got the Summoning Charm down really well."

"Very good," Snape said as he walked over to his desk. "So you had Quidditch tryouts today?"

"Yes but my spot wasn't open," Harry signed.

"Well your captain would be a fool to have someone else as Seeker for Gryffindor," Snape replied.

Harry smiled softly at Snape's compliment. He could remember how he felt at that moment, how he had been happy, overjoyed in a sense, looking forward to the time he would spend with Snape but it had all came crashing down like a bucket of ice cold water had been emptied over him. He had never even had any kind of bad feeling before it, no notion or intuitional spark in his body, nothing. It was just one of those memories you begged to forget.

"Well, shall we make our way to the Room…" Snape had said until his whole body just went stiff in a way and his composed expression that he always had on his face fell into a look that sprung the feeling of dread in Harry's heart. Snape had winced badly as if burned and then he clutched his left fore-arm and it was then, with that one sudden gesture, Harry knew what was happening and in an instant, such a blinding flash, he wished it wasn't happening. Snape couldn't have been just called by Voldemort, not now, not like this, not with him here to witness such a thing, such a forbidden thing for his eyes to ever see.

And then the man geared himself into action. He went to his desk and took out his wand. Harry watched the quick scene numbly. A drawer opened and Snape pulled something from it that Harry couldn't see in his hand. Harry felt sick, a sudden sickness that churned his stomach and his chest felt so painful and heavy and his heart crashed in his chest.

_No. _Harry pleaded in his mind. _No!_

He didn't want this to be real. He didn't want to care because it was so painful to care. It was much too painful, a hurt he had never felt as badly as right now. It was shocking to him how desperate he was feeling, how scared he was feeling. It was too painful to care about Snape. He suddenly wished none of it had ever happened, none of this had ever happened between him and Snape, that they weren't friends, that Snape hadn't been so kind, because anything would be better than to feel like the way he was feeling right now.

Snape had come before his desk now and with a flick of his wand something came to him out of thin air. A set of dark robes and a mask, a Death Eater mask and it was the sight of this mask that made Harry's head spin. It was like he was confused, like he had forgotten all about what Snape really was, that there never was a _Dark Lord_ like the man had called him so many times before and his brain was hit by a sudden memory and Snape's voice filled his head:

_"Because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."_

_ "No," Harry had replied all those months ago within that anger he could not get control of, "that's your job isn't it?" _

It had all been a few seconds, just a few seconds and Harry felt his feet move forward and he reached out and grabbed Snape's arm and a great pleading was in his tear filled eyes and he mouthed clearly:

"No, _please._"

"_Don't_ you dare," Snape said in such a low voice as Harry's eyes were wide and painful. Snape's black eyes were searing something into him, a message, a warning, and Harry knew if he had messed this up it would be the death of this man before him. He knew with never wanting to know how crucial Snape's position was but he begged with all he was worth that he could change fate, could change everything that had happened and he prayed as he felt Snape yank his arm from Harry's tight hold that this man would be protected in some way. Harry couldn't breathe as he stood there, his whole body trembling and Snape held whatever he had in his hand and whispered something he could not hear and Snape vanished before his eyes, off to Voldemort, off to the demon who had stolen everything from him, who would always stand between him and Snape.

It had been just a few seconds but the scene that had just taken place had felt like it had lasted a lifetime. His breath came out in short gasps and he fell to his knees, to the dungeon floor and the last time he had been this scared was the night he watched Sirius fall through the Veil. His tears fell, hot despite how cold his body felt. What would happen to Snape? Why had Voldemort called him? Harry's breath was caught in him once more. He knew a way. He knew a way to make sure Snape was alright, he knew and right now, because of his desperation and drowning worry he knew he had to do it. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes through the sting of tears, and searched within himself, within the connection to see what the demon was seeing.

* * *

Severus had Apparated quickly and trusted that his second of lateness would go unnoticed. He cleared his mind of everything, off all emotion, of all thought and stood within the Dark Lord's inner circle. Through his mask he could see they were in a grassy field and it was sunset, there were dark mountains in the distance. The sky was an orange hue mixed with a rosy pink and the lightest of blue that was fading. He didn't look at what they all stood around but he already knew who the ill fated man was. The badly beaten and tortured Florean Fortescue was huddled in the center of their circle tied up with rope. There were gaps in the circle and Severus promptly noticed the ones who were in Azkaban still were those who were not present.

Everyone was silent, an eerie silence despite the giant snake slithering around their circle through the high grass.

"My brethren, I greet you tonight in the highest of spirits," the Dark Lord's voice was deep yet so subtle and stained. The shadowed robes were blown by the wind as the Dark Lord entered the circle. His followers immediately bowed deeply.

"Stand, stand!" the Dark Lord commanded in a breathless voice. He was excited and Severus, without thinking so, knew why. It was always this way, always before someone was about to be slaughtered. "You must be able to see it!"

They stood in unison. The Dark Lord began to walk slowly around the pitiful soul huddled, cowering on the earth. Severus admired how Fortescue did not whimper or beg like most of the Dark Lord's unfortunate victims. Severus kept his still eyes forward; his heart beat normal, almost lazily calm. He knew he would not be able to stand in the way of what was to happen, it was most impossible. Fortescue would be dead in a few moments and that was it.

"Fortescue here, who worked a simple man's life in an ice cream parlor for many years," the Dark Lord informed them, "isn't as pathetic as one might expect. He harbors in that _aged _mind of his so many secrets, dark secrets of _ancient _magic…" The Dark Lord ceased his movements and those wicked eyes swept over his servants. "It took some time to grind the information I needed from poor Fortescue…but at last he remembered and so graciously did he give me what I desired…"

Severus knew the moment was now, he always knew and there was to be no other way.

"Let his death," the Dark Lord announced in a higher voice, commanding but almost poetic which Severus could never forget, "be an exemplary model for the only result if any one of you is to ever _lie _to me…like poor Fortescue here." The white, skeletal hand was raised as if conducting an orchestra and those all too proverbial words rang out to the hilltops before the setting sun. "_Avada Kedavra!" _

Severus remained the most still as the jet of green light hit the crumpled body and like every time before, his eyes fell upon the man's face just in time to watch the life in those eyes fade away into nothingness.

"You may eat, Nagini," the Dark Lord said in just a whisper.

Severus could not close his eyes, even though he would rather do so, to the gruesome scene that took place next. He was fortunate the Dark Lord bid his followers a farewell after it was over and Severus Dissaparated to Hogsmeade Station and quickly rid himself of his mask and robes and took out the Port Key and recited the password and vanished once again to return to his personal quarters. He put away his Death Eater robes and mask and wondered if he should return to his office. The look on Harry's face had dislodged him; the boy had looked devastated, distraught. He needed to see him, he needed to.

But when he went to his office, expecting to leave it and look for Harry he could never have anticipated finding Harry lying on the cold floor on his back with those eyes that were reddened, staring ghostly blank at the ceiling. His lips were parted just barely and his school robes were loose around his shoulders. His hands lay unmoving at his side and blood was smeared across his chin that was trickling from his lower lip. No. He didn't. He couldn't have done it. He couldn't have just seen what Severus was forced to witness.

He got to his knees as he was by Harry's side in a fast motion.

"Harry…" Severus hissed out. "Harry! Get a hold of yourself!"

Severus wanted to look away as Harry's lower lip trembled and his face contorted with such agony and those tears broke to the surface within his eyes and spilled down. Hands formed into fists, shoulders hitched, the body trembled greatly and a fury rushed into Severus's body.

"Why?!" he shouted at the boy. "Why did you do IT?! WHY?" His hands couldn't stop themselves from coming forward and they seized the boy by his collar, yanking him up. Harry cried and he shut his eyes tightly against Severus's shouting. "Look at ME! You _look _at me right now!"

Those eyes sprung open and Severus hated to see them filled with tears and he knew with heaviness in his heart that Harry was crying for him. In a motion Severus's eyes barely caught Harry flung himself into Severus and those arms wrapped around his waist and gripped so tightly. Harry buried his face into Severus's lower chest and he felt the boy's body tremble as he cried silently. No one, no one had ever cried for him. No one had ever felt like this for him. Not one person had ever held him this way and he gave in and the anger that had just surged through his body was gone and he let out a breath. He placed his right hand against the back of Harry's head and the other against the boy's back.

"Stop…please…" Severus said as he closed his eyes. "There is no need for this…"

But Harry continued to cry and Severus felt light headed.

"Harry…_Harry,_" Severus whispered tightly. "Enough now, I'm sorry I yelled at you…please, stop, stop this…"

After a few moments Severus was able to bring Harry slowly away from him and those cheeks were so red, eyes blood shot, tie crooked, hair messy. Severus held Harry by the upper arm with one hand and the other brushed down the hair and he took off the glasses and quickly wiped away the last of Harry's tears.

"You cry far too much. You're sixteen," Severus said in a whisper. He took out a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned away Harry's bleeding lip in which most likely the boy had bitten down on.

"I'm sorry…" Harry's shaking hands signed. "I just…I know…you have to see that…all the time…"

"That is what I must do, you should never care for that part of me…it has nothing to do with you," Severus said and he put the cloth back into his pocket.

Harry shook his head slowly, denying Severus's words.

"You're…my friend…" the boy signed weakly as he was on his knees before Severus. "I…was so worried about you…" Harry pointed to him and then that hand fell upon Severus's chest and Severus felt a heat within him and felt electrified by the touch. He took Harry's hand into his own quickly.

"You do not need to worry about me…" Severus said as he was looking down at the smaller hand in his own large one, brushing his thumb against it.

"I'm sorry," Harry signed, that phrase only needing one hand as Severus still held the other.

"Promise me…promise me," Severus said and he closed his eyes. "Never, ever try to see into the Dark Lord's mind…Promise me, Harry."

He opened his eyes and couldn't believe how brightly blue the boy's eyes were. There was such innocence buried within those eyes. He let Harry's hand go and the boy signed slowly with shaking hands and trembling lips as they mouthed the words:

"I promise."

Severus stood and for the first time he picked the boy up from under his arms with ease and Harry steadied himself on his feet. Severus put Harry's glasses back on.

"Sit, I will bring you a Calming Draught and some tea," Severus said and he left Harry and went to his private rooms and retrieved the small bottle and waved his wand about the kitchen for what he needed and the Earl Gray tea was made quickly. He searched around in a very neat cabinet for chocolate biscuits and found the package and summoned a small plate and placed a few upon it. He added the plate to the silver tray. When he came back to his office Harry was sitting down before Severus's desk looking worried and stressed. Severus placed the tray down lightly and took up the Calming Draught and gave it to Harry who drank it and winced at the taste.

"Drink your tea," Severus said and he went over to his own chair and sat down. He was grateful to finally sit. He took one of the thin biscuits and brought it to him and took a bite; anything to get the taste out of his mouth and the sweet chocolate did just that even though he hardly had the stuff.

He watched Harry sip at his tea, those eyes looking at the fire. Severus would never want Harry to see anyone die if he could have stopped it. Not Diggory, not Black, not anyone but what was done was done and he would need to watch the boy closely from now on because this must have pushed his progress back greatly. Severus felt angry with himself that Harry had seen Fortescue killed. He would need to tell the Headmaster soon. He would never have been able to ask the Dark Lord just what it was that he had finally extracted from Fortescue's memory and he had no way of looking into Fortescue's eyes to find it without being caught; he could not have risked it.

He picked up his tea cup and drank slowly. Severus couldn't begin to explain how much he hated to see Harry cry and it did not matter what the boy was crying over, he just couldn't stand to see those eyes, that face in that way.

"Harry," Severus called.

The boy turned his head almost obediently.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

The boy nodded slowly. Severus felt a head ache coming on and leaned back in his chair somewhat. The day had been too long and just had to end in such a way. He wanted to smile as Harry took a biscuit slowly as if not sure if he should have one but the boy liked sweet things.

"You will make sure to clear your mind of all thoughts and emotions before you go to sleep, do you understand?" Severus said.

Harry nodded.

"I'm not angry with you," Severus said.

Harry looked to Severus and he found the certain feeling of relief in those eyes. He didn't expect so many memories of his time with Harry in this room many months ago when he had forced the subject of Occlumency on him to rush into his mind. He had been so cruel to Harry, so mean and he was ashamed of it all, everything, his actions, his words, they were so hideous, revolting, ugly. So why? Why could Harry just forgive all of it? Forgive Severus so easily? Harry had been quick to retort angrily back at most of the things he had said back then but it was very well known, a very obvious fact that Harry had never deserved the hatred he had expressed towards him.

"Are…you ok?" Harry signed after a moment, bringing Severus out of his reminiscing.

"I am fine, Harry…as you could very well guess…I am used to such things," Severus replied. "Do not worry yourself over it; it is the way things must be."

Severus watched the boy turn his head slightly and he mouthed something but did not sign it but he could read Harry's lips saying silently:

"It's not fair…"

Severus really couldn't understand Harry's kindness; it was often too much for him.

"I should take you back to your dormitory, Harry," Severus said.

Harry looked up at him with a disappointment in his eyes but Severus had to be stronger than such a look.

"Unless you'd rather play against me in chess again," Severus said.

Harry quickly shook his head and Severus knew he wanted to smile.

"Come now, Harry," Severus said as he stood up. "With your kind of perseverance, you'll win someday."

The boy gave him a glare as he stood.

They walked together through the empty corridors in silence. Even if he didn't truly understand Harry's reasoning for being so kind to him, even if he didn't understand his own position toward the boy, he knew he would be the one to help him, to guide him, to take away any kind of pain, to devote himself to Harry vigilantly and he would do it not because anyone wished it of him or ordered it from him. He didn't owe this to anyone but himself and to Harry. He would be the one; he wouldn't let anyone take that away from him.

* * *

**Ok. I hope everyone liked this chapter and I would like to thank everyone for reviewing the previous chapter. Please review if you have the time, they give me a lot of inspiration and I really do appreciate them. I hope to have the next chapter up soon. Thank you for reading and for your support. : )**

**I apologize if there are any errors I may have missed. **


	24. Chapter 23: Clash

**Sorry this took a few days. I would like to thank everyone for reviewing the last chapter, I really appreciate and enjoy your reviews. **

**Warning: This chapter contains Mature Content**

**This chapter switches from Harry's POV to Snape's POV here and there.**

* * *

**Chapter 23: Clash**

He lay awake in the dead hours of the night. He just couldn't sleep, not after what had happened. He had been naïve to think that he could go about his life here and be safe from reality; that he could just be here and try to be normal but he was The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. He knew there were plenty of children who had grown up without parents but he wished he had someone who could tell him what to do. He didn't know what was happening to him; he had no idea what he was feeling.

It had been painful to reach into Voldemort's mind and witness the death of the parlor man, Fortescue. He wondered what Voldemort had found out, why it was important to him, why Fortescue had been tortured so badly and killed over it; he wondered what was to come of this. Voldemort was planning something and he hadn't a clue as to what it might be. He needed to know how to defeat the demon, how to be stronger; he needed to get his voice back but it just seemed so impossible.

He had been so happy so many hours ago until what had taken place in Snape's office. Now he was full of dread and worry. He wasn't so much as worried about himself at all, he was worried about Snape, he was afraid for the man and what filled him with such anger was that he could do nothing about it. And his head was full of thoughts all revolving around Snape. He could think of nothing else and he was scared of the reason behind this. Harry knew he cared about Snape, they were friends and you were supposed to care about your friends but there was something different about their friendship.

Harry pressed the side of his face into the soft pillow and brought his blankets tighter around his body. He had seen a side of Snape that he knew others had never seen; Snape being kind and gentle and those eyes would look at him in such a way, a compelling way and there was something in those black eyes that Harry just didn't understand but when Snape looked at him that way his heart would pound and his body heat would rise.

He hadn't known what possessed him to hold onto Snape, why he had thrown himself into that body; all he felt was that he didn't want Snape to be angry with him or to yell at him and he just wanted to be held by Snape. His cheeks burned as he remembered that sudden urge, that want for Snape to touch him. Harry knew it was supposed to be strange or weird that Snape would always touch him now, softly but to him it wasn't. To Harry, when the man would touch him…no one had ever touched him like that before, with that carefulness or kindness. If he had to admit it to himself, he liked it when Snape would touch him that way. He was happy with Snape and that had to mean _something_. If he was too scared to know what that meant then he wished he was braver.

Harry wished he didn't feel this way; so confused and worried. He wished he could understand why Snape was doing these things to him, why he had such a hold on him. What was he to Snape? What kind of friend was he? He was a 16 year old boy; what kind of man was a friend to a 16 year old boy? Maybe Snape was more of a mentor, no, that just didn't sit right in Harry's thoughts. He wished he was smarter, maybe then he would see what his mind was blind to. All he really knew was that he was worried about Snape because he knew what Voldemort did to his followers just because he could.

Snape didn't deserve it he felt. Even if Snape had become a Death Eater for whatever reason and whatever reason made him come back over to the light, to help Dumbledore and the Order, Snape just didn't deserve all this, not this kind of burden. Because how could a man like Snape who was so kind to Harry, who was so thoughtful, who could be this way, how could he deserve this?

_Of course you would think that way, _came a voice in his head, _you care about him but if you would say what you think to anyone else, they'd say he deserves it. _

Harry wished he could sleep, he begged for sleep to take him but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't. His eyes stung and he felt so exhausted both emotionally and physically. His brain felt so scrambled. What if he tried to talk to Snape about what was bothering him? No, he couldn't do that, it just felt so weird. Harry gripped at his blankets in frustration. He was hopeless, a loser. Why would this bother him so much? Why did he like being with Snape so much? Who in this whole forsaken school would feel like this? Of course it had to be him, the one who always seemed to draw the short end of the straw. But it wasn't just that. He had made it happen, he had wanted this. He couldn't blame luck or misfortune, he had himself to blame. Snape just always seemed to be there, to help him, to support him, to be kind to him.

And he stayed up all night thinking about it, thinking about Snape, thinking about what would happen to them, what would happen to Snape in the end? He wanted to protect Snape, he didn't want the man to ever get hurt or see people murdered. How many lives had he been forced to watch die because of Voldemort? At 7:00am Harry's mind had a sudden cryptic thought. Snape had probably had to kill before, under Voldemort's orders, Snape had probably done it before. So why, why even with this thought or realization or whatever it was, why couldn't Harry be disgusted with this man? Why was he always watching Snape now, staring, eyes wandering, heart racing?

Harry showered quickly and dressed in his uniform. He felt horrible; his head ached, his eyes were heavy, everything just seemed to hurt. He had homework to do; he had his list to finish in which he only had written two things down. He knew today was going to be horrible. Through his hazy mind he thought how nice it would be to just fall asleep again on Snape's couch.

* * *

"Harry…" Hermione said in a somewhat shocked voice. "You look…awful."

"That's what I said," Ron muttered.

They were in the common room about to head to breakfast and Hermione had seen Harry's somewhat disheveled appearance. His hair was a bit off, his eyes looked very tired, his tie wasn't as straight as it always was and the last button of his uniform cardigan wasn't buttoned. He felt so out of focus and dazed. He held his school bag and it felt like it weighed a ton.

"I couldn't sleep…" Harry signed and it took him a while to remember how. How was he going to get through the day like this?

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Harry just stared at her ponytail and then walked off to the portrait hole. At the Gryffindor table everyone could tell that he wasn't himself this Tuesday morning. Harry ate his eggs and sausage slowly and Hermione and Ron eyed him warily. Of course he would feel like he could sleep now when he was supposed to be awake. He hardly heard any of the conversations everyone was having at their table. His eyes just kept drooping.

By the time they went to Herbology Harry felt like he could fall asleep standing up which he did more than once in class, the second time he had fallen to the floor and Ron had tried to catch him but couldn't. Professor Sprout took points and sent Harry out of class early because he was "a danger to others" because he couldn't pay attention to his Snargaluff plant. He took that time to lie down in the cold grass under a tree. The sun was out today but the winds were strong. He was asleep in moments until Ron and Hermione were shaking him awake.

"We've got Defense, Harry," Hermione said.

He realized, after he stood up with his bag, that he shouldn't have slept because he felt more tired than ever now. He walked with unsteady steps to the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione and met up with the rest of the 6th Year Gryffindors and Harry saw that they would be learning their dueling lessons with the 6th Year Slytherins. The Great Hall had been changed for their lessons. The House tables had been set flush with the walls so there was plenty of room for everyone.

Professor Royle was already there wearing a dark gray vest with black buttons over a black dress shirt, his usual dark navy blue robes, and black slacks over those strange boots. He chewed his gum as he watched his class file in.

"Put your book bags over on the tables," Royle called to them all.

They all put their bags on the tables and moved to all stand before Royle waiting for instructions on what they needed to do.

"It's going to go quite simple today," Royle said as he held his hands at his sides. "You will be getting into groups of two and will practice using defensive spells nonverbally for five minute intervals. I have a timer," Professor Royle held up a strange black clock looking mechanism, "and when it goes off you will find yourself a different partner, understand? You will keep going until I say stop. After this we will have a small tournament. You will get into groups of two once again but the first one in the group to be disarmed will lose and will not be allowed to continue. The tournament will end when there is only one person left who hasn't been disarmed. Fairly simple, like I said."

Everyone listened intently and tried not to whisper to one another.

"Now, Potter, Potter, there you are," Royle said as he was looking around the crowd of his students. "Up front, come on. Mr. Potter and I will demonstrate the proper way to begin a duel; I want to see this kind of proper etiquette from all of you. This is to make sure everyone starts dueling at the same time and there is no cheating."

Harry, who had taken off his Gryffindor robe with his bag, reluctantly headed over to the front of the group where Royle stood.

"You know what to do, right?" Professor Royle looked down at him and Harry nodded quickly.

"Now you must face your opponent with your wand presented before you," Royle began and he and Harry did so as they both brought out their wands swiftly and then they brought them away to their sides. "You must then bow slightly," Royle continued and then he and Harry bowed their heads somewhat, "turn around and walk about five paces, and as soon as you face each other you may begin the duel." Royle and Harry had turned and walked five paces each from each other and faced one another at the exact same time.

Harry's wand suddenly flung out of his hand and into the air. It had happened so fast Harry had barely registered that it did before Royle caught his wand with excellent ease. There was a murmur through the group of his classmates.

"I will warn you now; there will be no foul play. If I see any sort of cheating going on you will face the consequences. Now, get into your first groups and when I say start I will start the timer and you may begin," Professor Royle announced and then he walked over to Harry and gave him a smirk, handing him back his wand.

Harry walked back to his peers and Ron was giving him a look and Harry knew what he was thinking; Royle was quick.

"Now, spread out, we don't want anyone to lose an eye," Royle called.

Harry partnered himself up with Neville and Ron was partnered with Lavender and Hermione partnered with Parvarti. When everyone was spaced out all over the Great Hall and had their first opponent Royle said in a strong voice:

"Remember to focus, don't submit to pressure. You may start."

Harry and Neville followed the proper duel etiquette as did the rest of them and then the Hall was filled with concentrating students. Harry, though he was quite tired, managed to disarm Neville quickly. Harry heard wands flying in the air and clattering to the ground all over and after only a few minutes jinxes were being cast here and there and Shield Charms were being produced. Harry felt bad for Neville who seemed to be struggling as Harry kept disarming him easily.

The alarm sounded then and it was a loud beeping noise and Royle called:

"Switch!"

So Harry was paired with Ron next. It was like this for over 45 minutes. The Great Hall was littered with wands here and there until their owners retrieved them, the Slytherins were trying to jinx their opponents every chance they could (however they were struggling) and Harry had been hit with a hex by Malfoy who he returned the attack by sending the boy flying with a powerful _Expelliarmus. _Before they could get at each other they were forced to switch and Harry was partnered with Hermione who was red in the face as she tried to jinx Lavender and succeeded and Royle had to counter the Jelly Legs Jinx. Harry was surprised when Hermione was able to disarm him quickly (he blamed it on being tired). It was then that Royle announced:

"Alright, everyone stop, get your wands together," Royle put his hands in his pockets as he stood in the center of the Hall. "Your opponents now are the ones you will start with. Remember, once you are disarmed you are disqualified and you will move to the tables. You can use any spell in your arsenal as long as it is done nonverbally. If someone is hurt call for me immediately but I will expect you all to be respectful toward one another. I'll be _watching_ you. There is no time limit. On the count of three: one…two…three!"

Harry guessed it was because of the sudden adrenaline that stung through his veins that he was able to act instinctively and disarm Hermione quickly after they had faced one another. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him before he gave her back her wand.

"Sorry," Harry signed.

"Be careful," Hermione muttered as she crossed her arms and stalked off to the table.

In moments a wand would fly into the air here or there and Harry's next opponent was Pansy Parkinson who immediately shot a jinx at Harry and Harry cast his Shield Charm and then fired off a stunning spell. It knocked Pansy to the floor and Harry quickly disarmed her after that. The Great Hall was filled with their silent dueling and Royle was walking around them all making sure no one was going against the rules. Harry was able to disarm Ron quickly who wasn't surprised. It was then that Parvarti was accidentally thrown into him by a Disarming Spell and Harry collided with her to the floor.

"Hey, mind yourselves over there!" Royle shouted.

Harry helped up Parvarti who was thankful and she went off to the tables. He rubbed his ankle which had started to burn. His next opponent was Theodore Nott who almost disarmed Harry but he was able to block the spell and cast a Stunning Spell in a split second which Nott wasn't ready for and he was sent flying and Harry concentrated and the Slytherin's wand shot from his hand. Harry took a step and his right ankle stung painfully and he staggered somewhat. He wondered if he had twisted or sprained it when Parvarti had been thrown into him.

There were very few people left in the small tournament: Malfoy and Seamus, Dean and a Slytherin girl, and now Blaise Zabini and Harry. Those who had been disarmed stood by the House tables, watching eagerly to see who would come out the victor. Zabini was a lot quicker than Harry had anticipated and he was hit with the sudden Stunning Spell and knocked back. He got to his knees and quickly shot a Disarming Spell but Blaise blocked it and tried to hit Harry with a jinx but Harry had got to his feet (doing his best to ignore his throbbing ankle) and the jinx bounced off his Shield Charm. Harry desperately cast another spell and Zabini's wand was stolen from his hand and arched high in the air.

He glared at Harry when he threw him back his wand before walking off to the tables. Harry waited just as he realized Malfoy and Dean were in a duel now and whoever won would be Harry's opponent. Harry's face was flushed; there was something definitely wrong with his ankle as he could barely place any pressure on it. He grimaced as Dean was hit by a strong Stunning Spell and then disarmed. How likely this was that Malfoy would be the one he would need to face last. Harry and Malfoy bowed, Malfoy was looking quite menacing; those light eyes were filled with loathing. Harry needed to stay on the alert. However, as he turned around after somewhat limping his five paces, pain shot up his ankle to his leg and he faltered and Malfoy shot off a spell and it struck the ground as Harry jumped out of the way.

_Reducto? _Harry thought quickly and clenched his teeth as Malfoy quickly shot a Stunning Spell at him. Harry put up a weak Shield Charm as he finally got to his feet. The pain was getting to be too much for him and he was already horribly exhausted.

_Expulso! _Harry shouted in his head as he pointed his wand at the blond boy. Malfoy had put up a shield but Harry's spell was so strong it knocked him off his feet. Malfoy got up quickly and shot a jinx at him and Harry was forced to jump and roll out of the way. He was out of breath and Malfoy shot the Leg Locker curse at him and Harry had to jump up to dodge it; he landed painfully and he heard something crunch in his ankle and he gasped and shut his eyes tight.

"Harry, watch out!" Hermione cried.

Harry's Shield Charm was weak as Malfoy had shot the same curse at him. Harry stood and his whole right leg was trembling from the throbbing ache in his ankle. He tried to disarm Malfoy but he blocked it. Malfoy looked angry and agitated and Harry was sweating and gritting his teeth, trying to focus.

"_Reducto!_" Malfoy shouted with glaring eyes.

He barely had time to think and Harry was thrown back with great force and a few girls screamed but he didn't hit the ground, no, he was stopped in mid air and let down easily. Harry turned and through his burning eyes he saw that Professor Royle had his wand out.

"Stop! Twenty points from Slytherin!" Royle shouted as he walked swiftly over to Harry. "I clearly remember stating you were only allowed to use nonverbal spells, Mr. Malfoy. Get your stuff and report yourself to Professor Snape's office, _now_."

Harry could see the anger in Royle's eyes and Malfoy looked like he was about to strangle Royle but he gave Harry a vicious look and hurried off to get his bag. The crowd of students was murmuring amongst each other and Hermione and Ron had rushed over to Harry who was sitting on the stoned floor out of breath. Malfoy stalked off out of the Hall and Royle knelt down by Harry.

"Where are you hurt?" Royle said.

Harry gently brought up his right pant leg and grimaced. His ankle was badly swollen and inflamed.

"Hospital Wing," Royle said and helped Harry to his feet, Harry put all of his weight on his left foot. "You two can take him. Everyone else is dismissed!"

"Of course, leave it to that slimy git to cheat," Ron hissed as he took Harry from under the arm and Harry leaned against him.

"Does it hurt badly?" Hermione said as she had Harry's bag and robes and her own school bag in her arms.

Harry nodded. They slowly began to make their way to the Hospital Wing. Harry could feel such anger towards Draco boiling within him.

"Glad to know Royle plays fair," Ron said. "Didn't expect that seeing as he was a Slytherin."

"He's a teacher, Ronald," said Hermione quickly.

"Yeah, so is Snape and you don't see him taking points from Slytherin," Ron replied.

"He took points from Slytherin just yesterday, didn't he Harry? Pansy was talking during his lecture," Hermione said.

Harry nodded quickly and winced. How could his ankle hurt this badly? He knew it was going to be a horrible day. When they reached the hospital wing Ron helped Harry sit down on one of the beds and Madame Pomfrey, who was giving a student Pepper Up Potion looked over to him.

"What's this now? I'm going to start reserving a bed just for you, Mr. Potter," the mediwitch said and she shook her head slowly.

But before she could walk over to him Snape entered the Hospital Wing looking concerned and slightly cross. He looked like he had been running. Harry felt his heart speed up at the sight of the man.

"Ha…Mr. Potter," Snape said as he came over to Harry. Ron and Hermione quickly moved out of the way and the two had surprised looks on their faces.

"Professor Snape," Madame Pomfrey sounded somewhat stunned at Snape's sudden appearance.

"I can take it from here, Poppy," Snape said quickly.

Madame Pomfrey gave the man a look and then said:

"Well, alright." She went back to tending to another one of her patients who had a nosebleed.

"Granger, Weasley, I believe it is almost lunch," Snape said as he looked to them both swiftly.

"Uh…but sir, Harry…" Hermione stuttered.

"Will be fine," Snape finished for her. "I'm sure you don't want detention, Ms. Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened somewhat as she looked to Snape then Harry then Ron and then said:

"We'll see you Harry," Hermione said as she placed his school bag and robes on the bed.

"Bye Harry," Ron breathed out as he was slightly pale in the face at the sight of Snape's dominating expression.

Harry waved slightly as he was still wincing at the pain in his ankle. They left the Wing and Harry's eyes found Snape who was looking at him with worry in those dark eyes.

"Where are you injured?" Snape asked quickly.

Harry put his hand lightly on his right ankle and winced at the slight touch. Snape knelt down and with much care he began to untie Harry's shoe. Harry felt the heat rise in his face greatly and his hands reached out to stop Snape's hands. Snape looked up at him quickly.

"I need to examine it Mr. Potter, what's the matter?" Snape said.

Harry's shoulders were trembling softly. Something in him was horrified at the thought that Snape would ever undress any part of him, even if it was just his shoe and he felt extremely embarrassed. Snape returned to what he was doing, pushing Harry's hands away gently, and then he slowly, as Harry flinched at the pain and shut his eyes tightly; took off Harry's school shoe. Harry felt a sudden jolt, almost a spark rush though him as Snape's hand pushed up his pant leg to his knee. Harry's eyes widened as he felt that strong, hot hand slide against his right leg and he tried his best not to shudder. A sudden heat at the bottom of his stomach made him feel ever so nervous as his hands were pressed into the bed and his right ankle was hovering in the air.

Harry shut his eyes tightly as Snape took his sock off too slowly. He had to grip the bed's sheets to avoid drawing his ankle away from those hands since his foot was rather ticklish despite the pain. Snape's eyes traveled all over the swollen injury and his left hand held Harry's foot ever so gently. Harry's face was on fire and his heart was pounding in his chest; surely it was thumping so loudly Snape would be able to hear it. What was happening to him? Why was he feeling like this? He had never felt this way before in his life and it scared him. His whole body was trembling as he stared down at Snape who had taken out his wand and was now muttering something under his breath as it was pointed directly at Harry's ankle. His ankle suddenly felt very hot and then somewhat numb and cold in mere seconds and the pain was quickly gone including the inflammation and swelling. Harry held his breath as Snape's eyes seem to linger on Harry's exposed skin but then those hands brought down his pant leg quickly.

"You should be fine now," Snape said as he stood up straight, putting his wand away and his eyes met Harry's. Snape's right hand had suddenly come to rest against Harry's forehead. "You don't have a temperature…your face is rather flushed however."

If Harry's face could have reddened more than it already was he would surely die of this embarrassment. Snape's hand came away and he looked over Harry.

"You look exhausted," Snape said.

"I…wasn't able to get any sleep…" Harry signed clumsily without looking at the man.

There was silence until:

"You will rest here until dinner, I will inform Professor McGonagall of your absence," Snape said.

"But…I'm fine…" Harry quickly signed.

"No, you are not, you need sleep, you will do as I say Mr. Potter," Snape said tightly. "I can't have you collapsing from fatigue in my lessons tonight."

Harry cast his eyes down and nodded slowly.

"Good. If you have not slept I will know, I will see you tonight, Mr. Potter," Snape said.

"Thank you," Harry signed quickly.

"Ask Madame Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep," was all Snape said before he turned and left the room.

Harry let out a breath as he couldn't believe how nervous he felt. He didn't understand this feeling. The burning at the bottom of his stomach was gone. He still felt Snape's touch lingering all over where the man had touched him. Madame Pomfrey had brought him the potion and he drank it down quickly and took off his other shoe and sock and placed his bag and robes at the side of the bed before lying down. As his eyes fell closed he couldn't stop thinking about those hands.

* * *

_"So…Fortescue was killed…" Dumbledore's voice was solemn._

_ "Yes…I wasn't able to find out what the Dark Lord extracted from his memory…" Severus said as he sat once again before the man's desk. "I trust that in due time I will know what the Dark Lord is planning but for now all I can do is wait."_

_ The Headmaster nodded once, slowly and Severus could tell the man was deep in thought. _

_ "Voldemort is the type of person who constricts himself to one obstacle at a time and doesn't usually burden himself with other tasks…Whatever he is planning he will work diligently on it…" Dumbledore said as he brought his hands together and placed them on the desk. _

_ "Without those who were captured by the Order, he is obstructed in some ways…I know for certain he is working on raising his numbers, once he has the force he desires behind him…" Severus said lightly. _

_ "I know, Severus…" Dumbledore said. "All I need you to do is look after Harry, make sure his mind is not burdened by what he saw tonight…"_

_ "I will," Severus said. _

_ "So Harry was absolutely worried over you," Dumbledore's tone had changed. _

_ "He was almost sick from it…" Severus replied after a moment and he looked down at his hands. _

_ "I told you Severus…if given the chance," Dumbledore said and those light blue eyes twinkled. _

_ Severus wanted to roll his eyes but refrained from the action. _

_ "You should get some sleep," Dumbledore said. "If anything happens don't hesitate to come to me." _

_ "Yes, Headmaster…" Snape said as he stood. _

_ "Oh, Severus, one thing," Dumbledore said._

_ "What is it?" _

_ The Headmaster was giving him a strange look as he was smiling softly. _

_ "Do keep Harry happy," he said. _

_ Severus didn't know how to take those words or order if it were. He quickly bid the man a good night and went back to his personal quarters. He was thankful to strip himself of the day's clothes and splash water on his face. It had been a long day indeed and what was worse he couldn't stop thinking of Harry. Keep the boy happy, of course that was the only thing he wanted, well, perhaps not the only thing. He was frustrated as he dressed into a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. He didn't dare grade any papers or work on anything. All he wanted was to lie down and read a good book. So he did and the book rested on his bare, muscled chest as he flipped through the pages but he found his mind thinking of nothing but the boy and he had to go back and reread a paragraph here or there. _

_ He was worried about Harry. He wondered if the boy would be able to sleep without having nightmares because of what he had seen. But he could do nothing now, he couldn't infiltrate Gryffindor Tower and find the boy to make sure he was alright, how would he explain that? Severus put the book on his bedside table and picked his wand from it and gave it a flick and his bedroom was completely dark. He rested against the many pillows and waited for sleep to come._

* * *

_ Severus went through his Tuesday morning classes for the day numbly. He felt a kind of relief that he had no afternoon classes. However, he hadn't expected a certain blond Slytherin to knock on his office door right before it was lunch time. The Malfoy boy looked annoyed. _

_ "What are you here for, Mr. Malfoy?" Severus asked as he stood there at the door. _

_ "Professor Royle sent me…he also took twenty House points," Malfoy snapped. _

_ "And why are you in trouble?" Severus narrowed his eyes. _

_ "During our dueling lessons I said a spell out loud when we were only supposed to be using spells nonverbally…sir," Malfoy said and rolled his eyes. _

_ Severus could see the boy wasn't telling him everything; he always knew when a student was lying to him, especially a Slytherin. _

_ "I will be more specific, _what_ are you in trouble for?" _

_ Malfoy glared at him. _

_ "I cheated, alright? I cheated in a duel against saint Potter," Malfoy hissed. _

_ "Potter?" Severus said._

_ "Yeah, you should have seen him crawling on the floor—" _

_ "Was he hurt?" Severus cut the boy off. _

_ Malfoy gave him a look. "I think so, he was limping around—" _

_ "Detention Mr. Malfoy, you will serve it with Professor McGonagall tonight at seven," Severus said quickly and he brushed past the stunned looking Slytherin, slamming his office door behind him and quickly made his way to the Hospital Wing._

* * *

Harry's eyes opened slowly and took in the dim light of the Hospital Wing. He could tell that because of the few hours of sleep he had just gotten he felt much better. He sat up just as Madame Pomfrey came over to him.

"You best be off to dinner, Mr. Potter, don't forget your things," she said and she went about making the beds.

Harry rubbed at his eyes and took up his glasses from the bedside table and placed them back on. He quickly put on his socks and shoes and straightened his cardigan and tie. Harry grabbed up his things and made his way to the Great Hall.

"Harry, are you alright now?" Hermione asked as soon as he sat next to her at the Gryffindor table. The Hall was back to normal and was filled with chattering students. Harry caught Malfoy glaring at him dangerously.

Harry nodded and quickly served himself some chicken, vegetables, mashed potatoes and rolls with white gravy. He was famished since he had missed lunch.

"Why'd Snape want to heal your ankle?" Ron asked before he took a rather large bite of corn.

Harry felt the faint heat in his cheeks but he only shrugged.

"He seemed like he was looking out for you, Harry," Hermione commented as she was cutting up her chicken neatly.

Harry glanced at her and she was giving him a look as if she was expecting him to tell her something she wanted to know. Harry didn't reply as he continued to eat.

"Can't believe how much we had to duel each other," Seamus said as he sat next Ron. "My head was killing me when Royle let us go; I've never concentrated so hard in my life."

Harry grinned at Seamus's comment.

"Hey Harry, you think you can help me with nonverbal spells when you have the time?" Neville said as he was next to Seamus. "I just can't get the hang of it."

Harry nodded at Neville and smiled again. He thought that Hermione might be the better choice to teach nonverbal spells rather than him.

"I thought I had Malfoy," Dean said sitting next to Ginny who was staring at Harry. "I underestimated him though. If he hadn't cheated you Harry you would have won for sure."

Harry smiled somewhat but he didn't know if that was true, his ankle had been keeping him from focusing on anything but the pain most of the time he was dueling against the blond Slytherin. Harry looked around the table and noticed that Lavender Brown seemed to be glaring at Hermione who was just sitting there eating. He glanced over at the Staff table. Dumbledore wasn't present and Snape was leaving the table. Harry quickly finished eating and drank down some juice.

"I can take your stuff up for you Harry, if you'd like," Hermione said to him.

"Sure, thanks," Harry signed. "I'll see you later." He waved to Ron and Hermione and got up from the table. He hurried out of the Great Hall and was quickly startled when Snape was waiting a little ways from the entrance.

"I thought I would save you the trip," Snape said.

Harry nodded as his heart was pounding from the surprise the man gave him.

"Shall we go?" Snape said.

He nodded again and they made their way to the 7th floor where the Room of Requirement was. Harry tried to ignore the nervous feelings he was having as he walked next to Snape.

"You should have stopped your duel with Malfoy when you realized you hurt your ankle," Snape said as they went up a flight of stairs.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the comment.

"I wasn't going to give up because of a hurt ankle," Harry signed. "It's like you said, I need to learn how to deal with fighting against my enemies in a hostile environment. If it had been real…"

"It wasn't real, you were in class Harry and pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion doesn't do you any good, neither is it worth it to win," Snape said quickly.

"What can I say? I'm a little competitive," Harry signed as he was growing annoyed. "Did you give Malfoy detention?"

"Yes, why?" Snape said as he looking at Harry.

"Don't give him more of a reason to hate me, he's already got it in for me because of what happened to his father," Harry signed quickly.

They had stopped walking and were now glaring at each other. Harry really had no idea why he was annoyed; he was just annoyed with the entire day and wanted it to be over. He was confused with himself because of what he was feeling around Snape and what had happened in the Hospital Wing. He couldn't explain it to himself and it was making him angry.

"I say we should stop while we're ahead," Snape said and those black eyes were burning into him and his heart kept pounding and his hands were trembling. "We don't want to let old habits die hard, do we?"

Harry looked to the floor and then continued to walk and Snape followed behind him. When they reached the 7th floor corridor Harry walked by the wall three times like always and thinking what he always thought, the doors appeared and they both entered the room.

They did much like what they had done last week with Harry blocking curses and jinxes and doing his best to concentrate while he was under attack to try to cast his own curses and jinxes at Snape. His spells were getting a bit stronger and he was getting quicker with casting them however after a half an hour he realized something: Snape wasn't trying nearly as much as he always did. His spells didn't seem to have that push like they did on Harry's Shield Charm. For some reason the fact that Snape was taking it easy on him made him angry, almost furious. Instead of blocking Snape's Stunning Spell he let it hit him to prove his realization and the spell struck him but he barely staggered backwards.

"Harry…" Snape began with that worry in his voice.

"Why aren't you trying?" Harry signed as he was glaring at Snape.

"What are you talking about?" Snape said with narrowed eyes.

"That Stunning Spell, it was crap," he signed in reply.

"Don't use that kind of language with me," Snape said. "And you're the only one who needs to try, this is just to improve your concentration and speed at casting nonverbal spells…"

"Don't take it easy on me," Harry's hands slapping together sent a small echo about the room and he purposely dropped his wand.

"Pick your wand back up, stop being difficult," Snape snapped. "I don't know what's gotten into you tonight but you need to focus, Harry."

"I'll pick my wand back up when you agree to stop treating me like I'm some kind of delicate little boy," Harry signed. "Just because I hurt my ankle doesn't mean I can't take pain, I've been hurt much worse before."

"Harry pick your wand back up, you're wasting time," Snape said as he looked cross now.

"Say you'll hit me for real, then," Harry signed and he crossed his arms.

"You say you don't want to be treated like a child and yet here you are acting like one," Snape snapped and his voice had gotten louder.

Harry glared deeper at Snape. Despite what happened the night before he couldn't push down the anger that was building up inside him. Why did this man make his heart beat so fast? Why did he like it when Snape touched him? Why did this man always provoke him so easily, always made him feel things so strongly?

"I'm not a doll, don't treat me like one," Harry signed. "Stop being afraid to hurt me."

"I am _not_—"

"Yes you are, you're afraid to hurt me. I'd never peg you to be the kind of person to ever be afraid of anything," Harry couldn't stop his hands from telling these things to Snape.

"I will not tolerate this sort of disrespect from _you_," Snape said as his hand was clutching his wand now. "Afraid to hurt you? Who is the one who is intimidated by me?"

"You should know exactly why I'm intimidated by you," Harry signed swiftly as he was entirely angry now. "Who was the one who had to deal with five years of your degradation? Of your insults? Of your hatred? Don't expect me to just be able to act like it never happened around you." He couldn't believe what he was doing. He was lying, he was lying to Snape and he had no idea why he was doing such a thing. The anger within him wasn't dissipating. He didn't even know if this was even anger he was feeling. He hadn't a clue why he was arguing like this. Why was he feeling so confused? "Now say you'll treat me like any Death Eater would if they were to face me."

Snape. Snape was just standing there looking at Harry. Harry didn't know if he looked angry or murderous but he didn't look calm at all.

"What's the matter Harry? Why are you acting this way?" Snape asked.

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Why don't you want to hurt me?" Harry signed and he knew his face was flushed. "I can take it, I can, just hurt me, just forget that we're friends and treat me like you used to, ok?" Harry's body was shaking all over. He didn't know what was happening to him but he just needed to know how he felt, he was tired of this slow torture of not knowing why Snape made him feel like this, whatever it was. It was making him crazy and he knew he wasn't making sense. He felt like he was going crazy, he just didn't get it, he just needed to know but no matter how much he thought about Snape, no matter how much he tried and tried to wrap his mind around this feeling he just didn't know it. And for some reason he thought of that day when Snape had been in his room and he was on his vicious tirade he remembered what Snape had shouted when he grabbed Harry up from the floor.

_"What are you doing to me?!" _was what the man had almost screamed.

This was agony; this had to be agony because he hated feeling this way and not knowing at all what it was. He was scared and he just wanted to know why he couldn't get Snape out of his head; it just made him feel sick and disoriented, out of place, desperate, alone. What was Snape doing to him? It had been almost three months of Snape being kind to him, being nice, being helpful and respectful, acting like he really did care about Harry and with all that had happened now, all the time they had spent together, all those soft touches, all those looks, all these memories that ate away at the bad ones, what was all this? What were they now? Were they really friends? This didn't feel like any friendship he had ever been in, this felt different, so much different. Harry's head was spinning.

"Pick up your wand, Harry," Snape said.

"No," Harry signed.

_Why are you so kind? Why do you touch me in those ways? _

"Pick it up," Snape said.

"No," his right hand signed again.

_Like I mean something to you. Why do I want to hold on to you? Why do I want to mean something to you? _

"Do as I say," Snape ordered.

"No, not until you're not afraid to hurt me…" Harry signed numbly without thinking.

"I don't know what you mean…" Snape said roughly. "Pick up your wand, Harry."

_I feel like if I don't mean something to you I'll die. Please, just hurt me, make this feeling stop._

"I can't…" Harry signed and he felt the sting in his eyes.

"Why are you acting this way?" Snape hissed.

_Why do I care about you? Why is this happening? All I think about is you. _

"Just pick up your wand," Snape said and Harry couldn't read those eyes.

He was scared and his thoughts were racing in his head. His legs were numb as they were moving on their own. He couldn't do this. He needed to get out. He saw the doors and he was walking so fast to them; his wand forgotten. He passed Snape, not looking at the man and what happened next was a blur. A strong hand reached out and grabbed his right arm tightly and tried to pull him back but Harry fought against the hold as he tried to yank his arm out of Snape's clutch and when he pulled with all his might causing him to turn around slightly his foot slipped on the grated metal floor and he fell to the floor and Snape came with him.

The sound of ringing metal hit his ears as his eyes were shut tight. When he opened them, his glasses slightly askew on his face, Snape's black eyes were staring down at him. The man's hands were firmly planted by the sides of Harry's head. Snape was on his hands and knees, his body hovering above Harry's own. And his heart began to crash in his chest and the heat in his body seemed to boil. The blood was pounding in his ears, rushing, drowning him and he was trembling all over.

It was in those seconds, just sudden seconds that Harry knew the answer and it filled his senses as if his body was being electrocuted. His brain went almost numb with the realization and he knew; he finally knew why he felt this way with Snape. Harry liked Snape, _in that way._ It was much stronger than whatever he had felt for Cho, whatever feeling he had with her in this very same room when he had kissed her, this was much, much worse and he was mortified, horrified as his eyes were locked on those black orbs. It was like a tidal wave had come crashing down over his body, like he had plunged into the ocean, like he was nothing and Snape was everything. He was so aware now and everything made sense to him now. He was falling for this man and he hadn't been this scared in his entire life.

Harry couldn't believe what was happening and he was looking at Snape's face in which he liked. Those dark eyes, those light colored lips, the strong outline of a jaw, those shadows the locks of soft, dark hair would always make upon moonlit skin, neck covered by the tight white collar, the shine of the black collar that was slightly open, so many buttons leading down…The moment had only lasted seconds and he couldn't breathe and he couldn't believe how he was seeing this man. And something was happening besides the great heat in his body and his face; that burning at the bottom of his stomach was back and it wasn't just that now, the heat went further down, much further down…

_No! God no! This isn't happening! _Harry's thoughts raced in his head. He could feel the tightness in his pants getting worse. _Please god, please this can't be happening, don't let Snape get up, don't let Snape get up! _Harry shut his eyes tightly and tried to think of a way to get rid of his problem. _Think of something else, think of something else, uh hippogriffs, Grawp, Hagrid, Blast-Ended Skrewts! Oh just let me die already!_

"Are you alright, Harry?" Snape finally spoke after the one minute that had passed and all this had gone on in Harry's head. "Are you hurt?"

_Please shut up! You're not helping! Your voice is just making it worse! _Harry was screaming in his head.

Harry could feel Snape's breath on his face and it smelt of mint and tickled his lips.

_I just need for someone to kill me now…_ Harry felt like he would be dead from embarrassment any moment now.

It seemed like luck was on his side for once as his body was calming down as the fear outweighed his hormones and the heat and pressure eased away. He felt exhausted as if he had struggled against another dragon. Now if only Snape could just move so he could get up. Snape pushed himself up easily and got to his feet and Harry got up quickly, almost losing his balance. He felt dizzy with his newly found discovery and embarrassed and terrified that his body could betray him in such a way. He could not look at Snape. He needed to get out of here; he needed to get away from Snape, he needed time alone to think about what had just happened.

"I am sorry…for making you fall," Snape said and his voice was slightly breathless. "Please…just tell me what's the matter, why are you angry with me? I'm sorry if I thought you needed a little break, I'm sorry if it offended you. I just thought since you hadn't gotten much sleep that I wouldn't push you as hard as…"

"It's fine…it's entirely my fault, I'm sorry," Harry signed quickly. "I…just…I must be just tired, I'm just tired, I think I need to sleep…Just forget about whatever I was telling you."

Snape gave him a look and Harry's hands continued to sign:

"I really don't feel well, I'm dizzy, I really think I just need to sleep."

Snape picked up his own wand which had fallen when they had fell and flicked it and Harry's wand shot up from the ground and into Snape's hand.

"I will take you back to your dormitory then," Snape said as he handed Harry his wand in which he took with a shaking hand. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes…I'm sorry for the way I acted, I was disrespecting you," Harry signed. "I didn't mean it, I was just angry…"

"I know, Harry…That's why I was trying to get you to continue with our lesson," Snape said.

Harry nodded once; he still couldn't look Snape in the eyes. His legs carried him to the door and Snape opened it for him. His body felt like it was buzzing as his skin tingled all over. There was silence as they walked to the portrait of The Fat Lady. Snape said the password and the entrance opened slowly.

"Good night, Harry…I hope you sleep well," Snape said and his hands were held behind his back.

"Good night…" Harry signed quickly and he went through the entrance.

"Harry," Hermione said as he came in.

Hermione and Ron were sitting at one of the high tables doing homework. Harry rememebered he had homework to do and his list and inwardly sighed. All he wanted was to be able to lie down and think.

"Are you ok?" Hermione said.

Harry nodded and he knew his face must look off, probably depressed. He grabbed up his bag and took a seat with Hermione and Ron.

"How was your lesson with Snape?" Ron asked.

"Let's…not talk about Snape, ok?" Harry signed and took out his Potions text, some parchment, and his quill and ink bottle. Ron and Hermione looked at each other but said nothing more to him.

He worked late into the night on Snape's essay and then took out the list in which he was beginning to hate. Ron had gone to bed and Hermione had finally turned in as well but she had been worried about Harry but he had told her to get some sleep. He was alone with this damned list as he sat there glaring at it. He thought of a lot of things. He thought of how much he needed someone to talk to about this. He wanted to talk to Sirius. What would Sirius have thought if he ever knew that Harry felt this way toward _Snape_? What had happened inside him to make this even possible? How had he been so oblivious to all this? Was he really this daft? He held his head in his hands as he was trying to deal with this awful situation. He liked Snape. He was falling for Snape. Snape! Severus Snape! The bat in the dungeons! The man that hated him all his life! Who he had once hated! So what had happened to him? What could have possibly made him feel this way? It was wrong, it was so wrong.

What did this mean? He didn't like boys or men or guys or whatever, he knew he didn't because he had never felt this way when he looked at any other man. No. So how badly was he messed up? He didn't know what to do. What would Snape do if he found out? He would go back to hating him all over again, he would most likely humiliate him; Snape would definitely reject him. And that thought hurt his heart as he sat there. Snape, rejecting him, not wanting to be around him; that made him feel horrible, that made his insides ache. Why did this have to happen to him? On top of everything else, why him?

If he hadn't already had low self-esteem he would surely have it now because he was in a hopeless situation. How could he face Snape now? How could he look him in the eyes? He was a fool. But what really, really made it worse was that he wanted to know if Snape could feel this way towards him. It was all Snape's fault! He had made Harry feel this way, he had to take him to lunch, take him to that beach, be kind to him, be so nice and embrace him like he did and worry about him and touch him all the time and even make dinner for him. He was going mad. He'd finally lost it.

How could he deal with this? It wasn't just hormones because there were plenty of girls around him that he knew liked him and he wasn't doing anything about that; he just didn't feel anything toward them, not Cho, not Ginny. He couldn't take it anymore and he was supposed to be avoiding stress. He crossed his arms on the table and placed his forehead upon them. He was lost. He had no idea how to get himself out of this one and he had no idea how he was going to face Snape. He needed to think of something and quick.

He could do his best to ignore his feelings and try to act normal. He would just need to distance himself from Snape; maybe it wasn't too late to get rid of these feelings, maybe it wasn't too late to stop falling for Snape, perhaps he could fix this, yes, he could fix himself. Harry sat up straight in his chair in confidence. All he needed to do was stop wanting to spend time with Snape…but that was all he ever wanted to do, even now as he sat here he just wanted to see Snape.

_What is wrong with me? _Harry thought miserably.

He was tired and so very confused at what he should do. Maybe he should let whatever happen, happen because he really couldn't come up with anything else; there was just too much stuff to worry about. He stared at the list and within an hour he stared down at the completed version:

_Things That I Like About Myself:_

_-I'm a good friend._

_-I'm kind. _

_-I'm understanding of others._

_-I try to help people._

_-I'm loyal. _

_-I'm noble. _

_-I'm brave._

_-I have nice eyes. _

Harry looked over the piece of paper and decided it should be good enough for now, at least for Ms. Gardiner tomorrow. He put his stuff away and headed upstairs where he dressed into his sleeping clothes, took off his glasses, and got into bed. He lay there with his eyes closed and the moonlight creeping in through the window upon his face. Why did he like Snape? : was the question he kept asking himself. If it was wrong then why did he feel this way? If it was immoral, corrupt, indecent, then why did he feel like this? He admired Snape, he liked his honesty and his kindness and the way he looked and acted. Snape made him happy and it must be a different kind of happiness, a better happiness because he felt, as he was falling asleep, that he would do anything to be with Snape.

* * *

Severus had never meant to make the boy slip and fall like he had done; he had just wanted to stop Harry from leaving so that he could find out just exactly why he had been acting like this. He could hardly understand it. Perhaps he was upset with the night before still or was offended because he hadn't been putting much effort into his spells that he had cast on Harry. He had only been taking it easy on him because Harry still looked somewhat tired from having not slept the night before. Severus wished he would have been able to avoid such a mistake because Harry looked upset and wasn't making too much sense. He just didn't want Harry to have to deal with whatever he was feeling on his own.

He had winced as he knees had hit the metal grated floor and when he opened his eyes he was on top of Harry and he could have sworn his heart had stopped. Harry's body was underneath him and he couldn't stop himself from looking at the boy's face. Those cheeks were so red, eyes gleaming, lips pressed together. His heart quaked within him. It was such a dominant position and his mind was filled with so many thoughts and he felt something dangerous move through his whole body, it bled through him and he didn't want to believe what this feeling was.

But Harry, it was like the dream he had, and Harry was the one he had been searching for, waiting for so long. No, this wasn't right, he was a grown man, this wasn't right, he knew it wasn't right so why? Why was this emotion feeding on his heart? Something was screaming inside him, wanting to get out, wanting to be free from restraint, the restraint he had put there, the chains he had made sure to lock because this was wrong; this wasn't supposed to happen. How could he have let this happen? Perhaps he really was just a monster. He couldn't do this, not to this boy, this innocent boy. It was too much for him to bear and he was numb. It was more than a spark; it was like thunder striking him, striking his senses to wake up, to realize what he had been denying.

* * *

As he lay in bed that night after taking Harry back to his dorm he could think of nothing else but the boy again. He thought it would be enough to just care for him, watch out for him, help him, that he could watch from afar and that it would be enough but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough, he wanted more, he was so hungry for it, so desperate for it. What was he to do? How far would this go before it would be ruined? He had let this happen; he hadn't even tried to stop it, to stop what was wrong, evil, forbidden. He couldn't be stopped. He had given in long ago, perhaps the moment he had really seen Harry; perhaps that was when it had happened. It hurt so much. How could he do this to himself again? Maybe he just believed too much in it, perhaps he thought that this would be different, he thought he had a chance but now it just seemed so impossible, so unreal. It had all been an illusion that he had been making himself believe it was real; that he could ever have him.

He was supposed to be a man, grown, strong, wise, but he hadn't seen the warnings, he had been blind to them, blind to the doubt. Severus had believed that he could be happy so what was this? How could this be happiness? Once he had thought he could overcome anything since that day; that he could live his life swallowed in bitterness and hatred and he would be able to get through it all. But now, now he was just a fool, he was sick, he knew what was wrong but he still desired it and thought that he could have him, that he could do it, that he was already the one. He was a fool. Sleep had taken him without him knowing when and it was as if a force unknown was pushing him towards the fire.

They were just sudden flashes. His hands undid that gold and red tie easily and slipped it away from that thin neck. Hands that weren't his tried to stop him but he forced them away easily. Bright eyes looked up at him with such fear yet there was something else hidden behind them. His hand brushed through the soft dark brown hair. He undid those few white clear buttons to expose skin. He had a great feeling within him, an excitement; he just wanted to see more, that was it. Small hands tried to interfere again but he quickly took those thin wrists and pressed them into a soft surface. Lips came into view, pink, shined and pressed together. They moved however to say something but he couldn't hear those words. All he wanted was to look at that face; cheeks so red, the brush of bangs pushed away to reveal that scar. His hands, his hands just needed to touch him, it was a desperate need, and it tortured him.

Severus awoke to darkness quickly. His body was covered in a cold sweat. His heart was racing, pounding viciously. He sat up slowly and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. What had he just seen? What had he just dreamt of? He was breathing hard. He needed to get a hold of himself. Need. He was suddenly aware of his groin area and he felt sick. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't have just dreamed that. He hadn't just dreamt of Harry in that way, no, not in that way. His mind was screaming at him. He was terrified. Severus wanted to hit something, to tear down something because this wasn't true, it couldn't be true.

His hand traveled down to the bulge in his pants and he was deeply shamed. He couldn't believe it; he denied it with all that he was. How could his subconscious betray him in such a way? He was trembling. This needed to go away. Severus rushed through the dark to the bathroom and the light sprung on. He turned the shower on full blast to the coldest it could be. He rid his pants from him to expose the solid erection he was so mortified over. He forced his body under the freezing spray.

How could he do this to the boy? How did he let this happen? How had it turned out this way? Why, why did he have to feel this way? It was wrong, it was so, so wrong, immoral, taboo. Hadn't he been telling himself over and over how dangerous this was? How forbidden this was? What had he become? He was a monster, he was evil. Tainted. Evil.

He pressed his hands against the white tiles of the shower wall and kept himself under the frozen water. Severus knew he had been doomed from the start. Why? Why had he given in, why had he thought he could do this? To help Harry, to heal him? How was this helping him? He just wanted to care for him, to fix him but he knew now, he knew the truth. He had wanted this all along. Secretly, desperately and he had tried to hide it from himself but he had always been greedy and this was proof of that.

He felt so lost. He had wanted to give Harry everything; everything and he had believed Harry would take it all but it was a hopeless wish. Harry was too far away, much too far away from the line he had crossed over now. He thought he could find a way, a way to reach him, to make him see. Had that been his plan? His careful plan that now had been forgotten. It had never been innocent; it had never been just for Harry. He was so selfish and ashamed. What happened to the seed he had planted? What was it growing in to? Had he wanted it to grow into this all along, this treacherous thing?

Severus stood there, naked, full of broken thoughts and a painful heart with his hands pressed against the wall. If he could just start again, if he could go back and start again he could do it right. He pressed his forehead against the tiles, the cold water now felt numb against his skin as the desire ebbed away slowly. This was the end for him. He was left to be a fool, forever lost in the dark and regret took hold of him again, tying him down. And yet his heart was so alive now, more alive than it had been in years. He was terrified, alone, beaten and there was no mask to put up, no mask to save him. He stood in the bath, the shower still running, with his forehead and hands pressing against the wet tiles. It was like he had been sedated for fifteen years and it was finally wearing off. Severus stood there under the ice cold water and he wept.

* * *

On Wednesday morning, September 11th Harry showered and dressed quickly since he had gotten up late with Ron. It wasn't sunny but overcast and the winds were horrible. Harry left with Ron and Hermione wearing his school robes over his uniform like the rest of the students because it was so cold and he had his Gryffindor scarf with him over his school bag since he had decided he would visit Hagrid after his session today; he had promised the man after all.

What happened at the Gryffindor table that morning sparked many students' interests. Harry had been almost done with his breakfast when he noticed that many heads at every table were turning and murmurs broke out all over the Great Hall. Harry set down his goblet of pumpkin juice and looked at what everyone was staring at.

It was Ms. Gardiner. She was walking to the Gryffindor Table. There was a nice smile on her face and her hair had been slightly curled and pulled back with a blue clip. Her lightly glossed lips seemed to shimmer from the light in the Hall. She wore thin white robes with golden trims and a nice light gray long coat with dark gray buttons. Her white high heels clicked a long with her strides. Harry knew why people were gossiping about this young woman; she looked beautiful.

"Blimey…" Seamus let out.

"She's gorgeous," Parvarti and Lavender said at the same time.

"Good morning, Harry," Ms. Gardiner greeted him as she was now standing before him. "May I sit down?"

It took a moment for Harry to collect his thoughts together and he nodded quickly and slid to his left a bit. Ms. Gardiner sat down with much grace.

"Good morning everyone," Ms. Gardiner said happily to those that sat around Harry.

All the Gryffindor boys seemed to be in a trance as a few muttered their own greetings to the woman as Ms. Gardiner smiled brightly. The girls said "Good morning" happily as they admired this newcomer.

"It's been a while since I sat in the Great Hall. I asked the Headmaster if I could join you here and we could have your session wherever you'd like today," Ms. Gardiner told Harry.

Hermione was looking at Ms. Gardiner in interest as was Ron.

"Sure. This is Hermione and Ron," Harry signed. "Introduce yourselves."

"Uh…hi, Hermione Granger," Hermione said as she reached over to shake hands with Ms. Gardiner.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Sophia Gardiner," Ms. Gardiner replied. She looked to Ron who was blushing. "You're Ron; you're the one who's good at chess."

"Ron…Weasley," Ron stuttered. "I'm decent, yeah." Ron was smiling like a buffoon and Harry had to stop himself from laughing.

"Weasley, yes, I remember, your brothers were in school when I attended Hogwarts," Ms. Gardiner said. "Well? Who are the rest of you?" Ms. Gardiner looked around interestingly with that smile of hers.

"Lavender Brown," Lavender said as she sat up straighter.

"Parvarti Patil," Parvarti said.

"Uh, Neville Longbottom miss," Neville said clumsily.

"Seamus Finnigan," Seamus said as he straightened his tie.

"Ginny Weasley," Ginny said and she didn't look impressed at all like everyone else.

"Dean Thomas," Dean said with a nod.

"Wonderful, pleased to meet you. You're all friends of Harry's?" Ms. Gardiner said.

They all nodded in unison as they sat across from her. Ms. Gardiner looked down at all the BSL books that were by their bowls and plates and goblets.

"I can't tell you how impressed I am that you've all taken to learning sign language," Ms. Gardiner said happily. "It means a lot to Harry but I'm sure he's told you that already."

"It's really fun," Neville said as he was somewhat red in the face. "We're happy to support Harry."

Harry felt his own face heat up slightly.

"Well, I'm thankful," Ms. Gardiner said. She turned to Harry. "Shall we go Harry?"

Harry nodded and they both got out of their seats.

"It was really nice meeting you, I'm sure I will get to talk to you all more soon, maybe you'd like some lessons from me," Ms. Gardiner said to them all.

"That would be great," Seamus said and Harry smiled at the face he was making.

"Well, have a good morning," Ms. Gardiner said and signed at the same time.

"It was nice meeting you," Neville and Seamus said and signed.

Harry and Ms. Gardiner waved and made their way out of the Great Hall. Before they passed the doors Harry glanced back at the Staff table and noticed that Professor Royle was looking at them and Harry couldn't tell what kind of expression he had on his face. Snape wasn't present at the table.

"So where would you like to have our session, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner asked.

"Anywhere is fine I guess," Harry signed as they walked. "There's this tree I always sit under if you don't mind the weather."

"I'm fine, my coat keeps me quite warm," Ms. Gardiner said.

So they walked out onto the grounds and Harry wrapped his scarf around his neck and put his hands in his robe pockets. The winds blew through them, picking up their hair, whipping around Harry's scarf and the ends of Ms. Gardiner's robes.

"So how have you been, Harry?" she asked him lightly.

"Ok I guess…I've been doing ok with my lessons with Snape," Harry signed.

"That's good to hear, has he been treating you well?"

Harry felt his cheeks burn.

"Yeah, he's been…nice," Harry signed in reply.

They made it to the beech tree at the edge of the Black Lake and Harry sat down and Ms. Gardiner sat down next to him with her hands under her knees.

"It's getting a little bit…easier I guess you could say, to remember him…but I have to fight with myself to remember him," Harry signed.

"It takes time Harry, to heal," Ms. Gardiner said.

"Have you…" Harry started to sign but he was hesitant. "Have you ever lost someone you were close to?"

"Oh yes," Ms. Gardiner said as she looked out at the lake. "My grandmother, she was a muggle. She passed away when I was still a student here. She helped raise me when my mother had her hands full with Emily."

"I'm sorry," Harry signed.

"Death is a part of life Harry. We come and we go. We know all along we're going to die and yet that doesn't stop the pain when someone we love goes. My grandfather was the one who was the most devastated, he was a wizard. You could see how much he loved her, like she was the reason for everything he did. He passed away shortly after she did despite being a wizard."

Harry watched as her eyes moved about the lake but she wasn't sad, she was still smiling softly as if she knew a long time ago that her grandparents were in a better place, together like they had been when they lived. Harry took out the list she had assigned him to make and held it out to her. Ms. Gardiner looked to it and she took it and read what Harry had written.

"It's a good start," Ms. Gardiner said and she handed him back the list.

"It wasn't what you wanted me to do, was it?" Harry signed as his intuition was working with him.

"Well, it was for the most part. I'm happy you were able to see these things in yourself…" she said softly. "But what I see in you Harry, what you can't see yet, is that you're the type of person who'd be able to write down only one thing under "Things That I Like About Myself", just one word."

"What word is that?" Harry signed.

"_Myself,_" Ms. Gardiner answered as she leaned in a bit. "That's what anyone's goal should be, Harry, to like yourself, everything about yourself, because you're you and you shouldn't ever have to feel bad that you're you, Harry because you're a good person."

Harry looked away and his eyes wandered up and through the tree leaves. He didn't know if he could like himself just yet. Something was missing; something big and he had no idea of what that might be. He felt better somehow despite everything else.

"May I ask you something? Something personal?" Harry signed and he felt nervous.

"You may," Ms. Gardiner said.

"How do you and Professor Royle know each other?" Harry signed quickly.

She smiled lightly and laughed delicately.

"I knew you would ask me sooner or later," Ms. Gardiner said as she looked at him.

"Sorry, my curiosity gets the better of me," Harry signed and smiled.

She looked toward the lake again as she picked up a blade of grass.

"We were here at Hogwarts together, he was in my year," she said and her smile had fallen somewhat. "We were friends for a while and we dated on and off through school but we never really got to that point where we could agree on the same things…Do you know what I mean?"

Harry really didn't know what she meant but he nodded anyway.

"He asked me about you, that's sort of why I brought it up…" Harry signed but he didn't continue with the subject anymore.

Ms. Gardiner was silent for a moment and Harry wondered if it had been a mistake to ask her. He felt like there was plenty more to the story between her and Professor Royle.

"What about you, Harry? Do you have someone special?" Ms. Gardiner asked.

Harry felt the heat rise in his face and he immediately thought, against his will, of Snape.

"I…don't really know…" Harry signed in earnest. "How…do you know if you…like someone that way?"

She smiled kindly at him and her dark green eyes looked stunning in the shadows of the tree.

"Well, I think you know you like someone _that way_," she smiled as she looked away from him, "when you really can't get them out of your head…and when all you really care about is what they think of you, what you can do for them; as if all you want to do is see them happy…Or you just think they're good looking." She laughed lightly and Harry did as well but he felt something sink in his stomach because she was right about these things; Harry felt them all.

"What do I know?" she added. "I'm single."

"Yes but I think it'll be a while before you find the kind of guy who deserves you," Harry signed.

She smiled brighter and laughed.

"You do know how to charm people, Harry; that should be on your list," she said.

Harry smiled and held his hands together under his legs. He stared out at the water and the winds were slightly calmer. He wondered if anyone would be able to understand what he felt for Snape and why.

"Have you thought about forgiveness, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner asked suddenly.

Harry's breath caught in him slightly and he started to remember things he didn't want to. If he had to admit it, he had thought about it because he hadn't gotten his voice back and it had been three months, three months since he had spoken out loud. He just didn't know. He just didn't know if he deserved to be forgiven. Sirius was dead so he couldn't ask him.

Harry didn't reply. He couldn't.

"I want you to keep thinking about what you can see in yourself, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said and she stood and brushed the grass off her coat. "I think, just like your voice Harry, you've lost yourself…and it might be some time before you find yourself." She held out her hand and her well manicured nails glistened. Harry took it and Ms. Gardiner helped him to his feet.

"Thank you…" Harry signed.

"For what, Harry?"

"For not giving up on me," he signed and he kept his eyes on hers.

She was silent for a moment as the wind played with her hair and Harry couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"I'm here to help you, Harry," she said. "Just don't give up on yourself, ok?"

He nodded and sniffed; his nose was cold as were his hands.

"I have to visit Hagrid," Harry signed. "So…I guess I'll see you next Wednesday."

"Of course. Have a good day, Harry and take care," Ms. Gardiner said.

"You too," Harry signed in reply. He watched her walk back to the castle for a few minutes as he stood there under the tree and then walked off to Hagrid's hut. He was surprised however when Hagrid wasn't home. He wondered where the man could be; perhaps off in the forest but Harry wouldn't go wandering off in there. He sighed and decided he should go back to the castle, hopefully he would find Ron so he could get back in to their common room. He walked with his hands in his robe pockets and the lower part of his face buried in his scarf. When he got to the second floor landing and made his way the next staircase he heard something coming from a room whose door was slightly ajar. It must have been an empty classroom. There were voices emitting from it and Harry recognized them. He moved closer and looked around, there wasn't anyone near him.

"Why did you drag me in here? You have a class to teach, I'm sure."

It was Ms. Gardiner.

"Won't you give me a minute to talk to you Sophia?"

It was Professor Royle.

And Harry's curiosity got the better of him so he stayed and listened.

"What's there to talk about? I haven't seen you in over two years, I didn't know where you were until I found out you were a teacher here," Ms. Gardiner sounded agitated and her voice was shaking somewhat.

"There's plenty to talk about, if you'd let me explain," Royle's voice sounded forced and hurried.

"Explain? Alright Liam, explain to me why after I stopped you from _killing_ yourself that night, the very next day you just vanished, moved out…you didn't even leave a _note_," her voice went from being high to being just a whisper.

"It's complicated…I was confused, I know I should have written…" Royle rushed.

"Then why didn't you?" Harry caught the hurt in her voice.

"I…I didn't know…I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me," Royle answered exasperatedly.

"Right, after all I did for you, did you think I just did it because I was paid to?"

"You never said anything! And you were the one who didn't want to get married after we graduated!"

"I was _seventeen_, Liam," Ms. Gardiner sounded somewhat aghast. "I just needed time."

"We loved each other, what else did you need but that?"

"I couldn't just _leave_ Emily, you knew that and you still pressured me; that's why I ended it, Liam," she said in finality. "I have to go, I've got an appointment."

"Wait, Sophia," Royle called.

"You should stop chewing gum," was all she said somewhat angrily before Harry heard her coming to the door and he had to think quickly so he took out his Invisibility Cloak and quickly put it over himself and moved away from the door just as Ms. Gardiner walked quickly out of it and up a staircase; Harry thought he might have seen tears in her eyes. Harry looked inside the classroom to see Royle sitting in one the desks with his head bowed his back to the door. He had no idea of what he had just witnessed and he thought it best that he really shouldn't ask Ms. Gardiner anymore questions about it.

* * *

Harry found it hard to pay attention in Potions that day. They did a simple potion which was the cure for a Love Potion, or Amortentia, after Snape gave a lecture on how Love Potions work since apparently many girls had been asking questions about Love Potions in his other classes. Snape seemed agitated about the subject but it was in the text book. Snape also looked somewhat tired and preoccupied. He kept pausing during his lecture as if he had forgotten what he was doing. Harry felt more than uncomfortable as the word "love" kept coming out of people's mouths when everyone had questions about the potion's effects and properties. He did his best to keep his eyes off Snape but his heart kept pounding. At the end of class Snape took their essays and they cleaned up their work benches.

"Mr. Potter," Snape called. He sounded nervous. "May I have a word with you?"

Harry had planned to bolt from the classroom only a second ago but now he stayed behind as everyone filed out of the door. He picked up his bag and walked slowly over to Snape's desk where the man was standing before it.

"How was your session?" Snape asked softly.

"It was…fine," Harry signed and he had his eyes locked on Snape's shiny dress shoes.

"What's the matter, Harry?" he asked and Harry saw that hand coming up to his chin and he stepped back without meaning to as his heart had begun to race. Snape's hand was suspended in the air for a second and then it fell back to his side.

"I've got to go," he signed quickly.

"Where do you have to go in such a hurry? Your classes are done for today," Snape said as he took a step forward.

"I…have to study…" Harry signed and his cheeks were reddening. He turned to leave but Snape's hand quickly grabbed his right arm to stop him.

"Why are you lying to me? What's wrong, Harry?" Snape said and his voice sounded forced.

_Don't say my name! _Harry screamed in his head as his arm was tingling from Snape's hand holding him there as he was looking away from the man.

"Let go," Harry signed and he could feel the heat making its way down again. He needed to leave.

"Why won't you look at me? I just want to talk," Snape said.

"I don't want to talk, I have other things to do you know," Harry's hands signed numbly. "I don't always have time for you." Harry had no idea why his hands had done it and he quickly looked up at Snape. The man wasn't looking at him as his hand slipped away from Harry's arm.

"I…" Harry signed.

"I think you need time to yourself," Snape said as those dark eyes were looking down at the floor, they looked exhausted. "To think about whatever it is you can't say to me. Whatever it is that is making you act this way. You won't need to come to my office for the rest of the week, Harry. Perhaps that will be enough _time_ for you to gather your thoughts…"

"What do you mean…?" Harry started to sign as his heart kept racing; his expression worried because Snape had never sounded this way before and he had never looked this way before; he sounded upset somehow.

"You can go now," Snape said and he turned away from Harry and picked up their essays and all Harry could do was watch him leave through the door that led to his office. What had happened? Was Snape angry with him? Was Harry at fault for this? Why had Snape acted that way? He suddenly felt alone as he stood there. All he had wanted was to be able to stop falling for Snape and he realized that such a thing wouldn't be possible.

* * *

**I hope that wasn't too long or bad and that everyone liked it. **

**Next chapter will contain a lot of Snape's POV and it will explain some things and there might be a surprise : )**

**I hope no one is confused and understands all the craziness these two people are feeling. **

**Please review if you have the time, thank you for reading. **

**Sorry if Harry seems to be sort of a mess right now but I think it's understandable.**

**I apologize if there are any errors. **


	25. Chapter 24: Salt Rose

**Warning: This chapter contains M/M and Mature Content. Don't like it, don't read it. Thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter 24: Salt Rose **

Severus Snape lay in bed; dark eyes locked on the ceiling. He hadn't slept in two days. His mind was forever hindered by whispering thoughts, aching memories, voices that he hadn't heard in years, voices that belonged to those who were dead. They were like echoes that hounded in his thoughts, loudly and then barely audible. They haunted him because he was a resentful human being and he hated this part of him. And what was worse than all that was he could suddenly hear Harry's voice so loudly in his head. It was as if every memory he had of the boy from the very moment he lay eyes on him was tearing through his mind and he could recognize the change in it through the years as a child had grown into adolescence.

He was stuck on that voice. Severus remembered everything; for five years he had heard that voice and now it was gone, taken, and he just wanted to hear it again; not in his memories but now because he knew it would be different now, he knew Harry would speak to him differently. Harry. _Harry. Harry. _He was obsessed and this was so detrimental, so dangerous but he hardly cared. He was tired. He just wanted some small piece of freedom.

He had known suffering. He had known agony. He had known pain. And he knew what it was like to want something you could never have. But this wasn't a want, it was a need and now he was forced to struggle against this need. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do in his entire life. What he wanted, what he needed, he could see Harry every day and there was nothing he could do about it. In actuality, Harry was so close and if he wanted he could take him, steal him away but it would be wrong to do such a thing. He and Harry, they couldn't be further apart on how they felt.

He was at a complete loss. Severus had no possible idea as to what to do. He couldn't stop what he was feeling; it was just too much; he could hardly contain it. When was it that he had begun to care about Harry so much? To the point where it hurt when he had just wanted to try to talk to Harry about what had happened between them, why the boy was acting this way around him now, and all Harry wanted to do was leave. He believed Harry would have made any excuse to get away from him. Did Harry know? Did he know how Severus felt? Even if the boy was clueless it wasn't as if Severus had done his best at hiding it. Was that why when he had tried to get the boy to look at him that he had backed away from the touch, for the first time? Severus couldn't believe how that one movement of evasion made him feel. It stung badly, burned him inside, tortured him.

So he thought that perhaps it was better this way. He would let Harry have his space; he would avoid him to let himself find whatever answer he needed. Severus wanted to look into the boy's mind but he knew he could not. He had never felt so helpless before and he wished he could rid himself of his heart. He didn't want to feel this but he was trapped inside this body. Nothing would numb his heart; no potion, no alcohol, no spell could possibly put an end to this feeling. He was a prisoner to it. Severus felt like he was stumbling around through the dark unable to recognize anything. He dreaded the ghosts of memories that would fill his mind; he had been in one place for so long and for so long he had never thought it even possible to leave.

Severus was in a new world, if only he could have a new life, a new body, a new soul; if only. But he had decided, he was done living this way, he was finished with it and even if the outcome looked grim, even if all of his efforts would lead to failure, he needed to try or there would be nothing left of him. Severus hadn't been born into the greatest life and he had never tried to stay away from paths that would lead to sin. There was only one path now and he would tread lightly, he would face these obstacles, he couldn't just give in like all those times before.

He didn't know how to live with these unrelenting feelings, this never ending need; it was constant; latched to him, sucking him dry. Harry was constant. He was the paramount of all things. How could he feel this way? When had he become the one who couldn't control his emotions? He could have laughed. It wasn't like him to wallow in self-pity; bitterness, yes, but not self-pity. This was actually affecting him so badly he could hardly teach properly. He begged for an answer; he begged for the courage he had never possessed once in his life; the courage to tell Harry exactly how he felt.

* * *

Somehow, without knowing, he had dug himself into a dilemma, a serious dilemma, a crisis and it seemed life threatening. Harry didn't know why he had done it; why he had told Snape that terrible lie. Even if he hadn't spoken it out loud it didn't mean Snape's reaction had been any less devastating to him. He felt so horrible. He lay in bed, having refused to go to dinner this Wednesday night. He couldn't stand to be around people. He could remember the walk back from the Potion's classroom and it still sent shivers through his body.

_His hands were shaking horribly and he could hardly breathe as he was practically running through the dungeons. He felt constricted and he needed to get out of this place, out of the underground as the chill seemed to rip at his skin from underneath his robes and uniform. He felt so scared, so lost, so unsettled and his mind was filled with dark thoughts. He tripped up the stairs and had to keep to the walls to avoid any contact with any passersby; he just couldn't be touched by anyone. He couldn't listen to their whispers, their murmurs and couldn't meet their stares or glances._

_His head hurt, pounded just like his heart and he felt edgy, nervous and he wanted to bite down on something and scream. Was he suffering? Was this a consequence? He never seemed to really see those. He felt like he had committed some sort of crime. Had he hurt Snape? He must have. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand to be thrown out again. Snape had thrown him out before and that had been bad but this, this was agony. _

_He had Ron take him to the common room where he had rushed to his four-poster bed. His friends had been worried and Hermione kept asking him questions and he had almost pleaded with them to leave him alone and they did. Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to care about Snape? _

It was dark out now and he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper in his despair, going back to a place he thought he'd never have to return to. If only Sirius could be alive then everything would be alright, he wouldn't be in this position, his life would be so much different, he would be different. Now he was trapped again and he realized as he lay there curled up upon the bed how much he needed Snape. How much he wanted to see him, to know him, to know about him, to be a part of him, to be in his thoughts, even his dreams, how much he wanted to be special to Snape; to matter to him.

Was it possible? His heart was racing. Could he be special to Snape? A man who had hated him with every fiber of his being, hated Harry for all that he was, could Snape want to be with him? It wasn't right, to anyone else, this surely wasn't right but he couldn't stop himself. He was torn. He was broken. He was unstable. His hands were always shaking, his emotions were everywhere, his dreams were filled with his dead godfather, he was a mess. He had let himself unravel.

He didn't just like Snape in that way, he was attracted to the man, everything about Snape stood out to him. Harry lay there trying not to think about it. Snape was tall and fit. Harry couldn't help but wonder what the man looked like underneath those layers. When he wore muggle clothes he could see the definite outline of his chest muscles. He had never noticed that Snape looked strong, lean, but he was a man. These thoughts were causing him such affliction. Could Snape ever be attracted to him? According to others he was good looking. He doubted it though. Snape didn't come across at all as the type of person who would like men. Harry didn't feel like he liked men, he just felt like he liked Snape and now he knew why he couldn't feel anything towards Cho or Ginny, because his interests were already directed at Snape. When was it? When had he started to fall for Snape?

He needed to talk to him, he needed to tell Snape about this but how could he? It felt like the scariest thing ever to face. He was supposed to be brave and yet his bravery seemed stunted. Harry had been brave enough to write the letter and give it to Snape so why was this looking so unfeasible? He could see nothing but the man's face in his head. It was so painful to feel this way. It was like a regular tightness in his heart and it vibrated against the ache in his chest. He had to be honest with himself. He liked Snape and he wanted Snape to like him too. Sleep stole him away from consciousness in moments.

He dreamed of Sirius; of Grimmauld Place. He was searching for Sirius throughout the dark house. There were oil lamps hung about the hallway walls. Stairs creaked. He could hear his breathing. Doors were opening and closing but he could find no one. He heard whispers. Everything was set in a cold darkness. Harry felt as if he was supposed to know something, something he had forgotten. He searched through the shadows and the dust that felt so real to his touch. He entered a room and there, in the center of it was Sirius. There were leaks in the ceiling and the water dripped down all around him. Sirius stood there, as still as ever but the water, it was pouring down now, faster and faster, bursting from the ceiling. Harry wanted to call to him but he could not. It seemed like the whole house was flooding as the water rushed in from every corner. Harry thought if he didn't leave he would drown, Sirius would drown. But he couldn't leave and he stood in the room before him as the water filled up. Sirius was just staring at nothing and Harry wanted to reach out to him, to grab him, to make him notice he was there in this flooding forsaken house but something had grabbed him and he was being pulled under the cold water, sinking, and he couldn't breathe.

Harry awoke so suddenly and he was coughing and shivering. He had gone to bed in his uniform without any blankets over him. His body shook as he sat up in his bed and noticed everyone was asleep. He wondered what time it was. His bare feet were freezing and he quickly undid his tie and let it fall to his trunk that was before his bed. Harry got under the blankets, shivering madly, and as the warmth slowly reached him he thought about the strange dream he had.

His stomach felt empty and he shut his eyes tightly. He suddenly wished he and Snape hadn't been placed into this situation; that they hadn't fought or whatever had happened between them, and he wished he had been kind to Snape instead of being cruel. If he had been kind, they would have had a lesson that night and he would drink tea by the fire with Snape. He felt if he couldn't see Snape then how could he last in this place? How could he deal with all of this? Sleep took him once more and he couldn't get Snape's face out of his thoughts.

* * *

Harry didn't know how to explain how hard it had been to get out of bed that Thursday morning. He felt entirely numb to everything when he had awoken. The sky seemed to reflect his mood; it was gloomy and gray out. He had to force himself to get ready, to shower, to button his shirt, to tie his tie, to put his belt on, to tie his shoes and whenever his shaking hands couldn't grasp something he felt so frustrated and tired of everything. He didn't see a purpose to anything he was doing. His heart felt heavy, as if incased by cement.

"Good morning Harry," Hermione said to him in almost a whisper when they had met in the common room. Harry didn't look at her; he couldn't seem to be able to look anyone in the eyes. As if he was hiding from everyone. When the three of them made their way to the Great Hall Harry had to keep to the walls and stair railings again as he didn't want to be in the center of the crowd of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws all making their way down the floors to breakfast.

Ron and Hermione sat across from him at the table. He had no sort of appetite as he stared at a plate of muffins. The Hall was full of chatter and laughter and every noise made Harry anxious, as if he needed to run, to get away from all of this lively activity when he felt so departed, unattached, dislodged, forgotten. His eyes travelled automatically to the Staff table but Snape wasn't there. He glanced back down at his empty plate.

"Harry, you need to eat," Hermione said.

Something inside of him made him want to lash out at her but he fought against it. His friends didn't deserve to be the target of his desperation and bitter feelings.

"Hey…are you gonna tell us why you didn't have lessons with Snape last night?" Ron asked.

Hermione shot him a look of warning and whispered:

"_Ron…_"

Ron didn't say anything else and now paid much attention to his eggs and bacon. Harry felt sick and his head kept paining him. He could remember when he had felt so happy that night after he had dinner with Snape, how kind Snape had been to him, how they had enjoyed each other's company so why did that happiness always have to be stolen from him, destroyed, shattered? He only had himself to blame however. It could have lasted if he had just acted normal around Snape, like he had been doing, if he had only just fought down how afraid he was for how being attracted to Snape made him feel then he wouldn't have pushed him away like that. He always just seemed to mess everything up. He wasn't eloquent like Snape, he wasn't controlled or composed. He was clumsy and dimwitted, he was insecure and insensitive and all of this just put a great sorrow in his body.

His eyes found Ginny somehow. She was smiling as she was talking to Dean. She was kind, a bit unmannerly and forward but she was a nice girl. Ginny looked at him and his eyes tore away from her stare. He searched the Hall and found Cho laughing as she talked with one of her friends. She was pretty, smart, elegant. So why? Why couldn't he fit with them? Why couldn't he have fallen for them? They were always talking to him, being nice, flirty, even flaunting themselves so why didn't his heart react to any of it? Why didn't it race, why didn't he get flustered, why didn't he care how he looked around them or if they cared for his personality or looks? He couldn't like them that way, he couldn't even force himself to like them that way or be attracted to any part of them. What was wrong with him? Why was he stuck feeling all these things he should feel for them but instead he felt for Snape? What had went wrong inside him? Why was his heart victimized this way? And it was his voice that answered him inside his head, his voice that he hadn't heard in forever but it spoke so clearly in his head:

_You did it to yourself. _

"Harry…are you ok?" Hermione said and her voice was filled with worry.

He hadn't noticed the hot tears that had built up for seconds in his eyes and they had fallen down his cheeks.

"Harry…" Ron almost whispered.

And his voice kept tormenting him relentlessly:

_Why are you so surprised? Everything else is so messed up in your life, why not this? _

"Harry," Hermione called. "What's wrong?"

Others had noticed Harry sitting there with his head faced forward, his expression blank but those tears kept building up and descending down his face, getting caught upon his chin then dripping onto the wooden table. But the voice continued, his voice:

_Looks like Snape will always torment you. First you hate him for the longest time and now you're attracted to him. How's that for irony? _

In a swift movement he pushed himself from the table without really knowing how he was doing it and he started to run only to trip over his book bag and fall to the ground hard.

"Harry!" Hermione said as she got to her feet.

He got to his feet quickly and ran, ran as fast he could out of the Great Hall as many students had gone quiet as they witnessed what had happened. Harry was running hard but his footsteps that pounded the ground didn't drown out his voice that was louder in his head.

_You're always going to be miserable, you have to face it. Your life's been crap. No one could possibly understand just how much you've suffered. You're a joke. You're a fool. You have a therapist? God, you really are messed up in the head. You're beyond help, trust me. _

It wouldn't stop. No matter how much he tried to focus on anything else, no matter how much he tried to scream in his head to stop he had only wound up screaming in his own voice. What was happening to him?

_Well that's obvious Harry, you've gone mad! _His voice answered. _All the depression has finally caught up with you and I'm not surprised with all that goes on up in here. _

He was running, blindly, up stairs, tripping, falling, getting back up and running as if he was being chased by his voice.

_You're done for, Harry. It's over. You should just end it now and spare everyone the theatrics, spare everyone this unnecessary drama. Do you know just exactly how much you depress people? How much stress you put on them? It's quite selfish, actually. _

He was running and he didn't know where his feet were taking him.

_Oh stop running you idiot. Do you know how stupid you look? But I guess it suits you since you're going crazy and everything. You know what you should do? Go run to Snape; I'm sure he'll make everything better, since you like him so much. _

Harry tripped over his own feet and hit the ground again. His whole body was shaking.

_This is what we call a mental break down Harry; you were due for one I hope you know. Bet you wish Ms. Gardiner were here now, don't you? _

He clamped his hands over his ears painfully as if it would bring him any kind of relief from his voice in his head but it did not:

_You're so weak and pathetic. Do you think Sirius can see you this way? _

"Harry!" Hermione called as she came running down the corridor that Harry had come down. Ron was trailing behind her, out of breath. They came to his side and got on their knees to try to see his face which was contorted with anguish and flushed and sweaty. His hands were still covering his ears as their voices sounded far away.

"What's the matter? Harry, please, what's wrong?" Hermione said as she was winded and she sounded so worried.

"It's ok, Harry," Ron said.

His voice was gone in his head and he took in a breath, gasping as he trembled.

"Harry, we'll take you to the Hospital Wing, come on mate," Ron said as he put his hand on Harry's back.

Harry shook his head violently.

"Harry, you got to calm down," Ron said breathlessly and he grabbed Harry's wrists and pulled them from his ears. "We can't help you unless you tell us what's wrong. Was it Snape? Did he shout at you again?"

Harry hated this. He hated how all he ever did was lose himself, lose his composure like this, crying like a child as if he had no control over himself; why wouldn't this suffering end?

"Harry…" Hermione was close to him now as she was looking at his face as her own face was saddened. "I know it's hard…I know it's because he's gone, Harry and I know it hurts." Her own eyes filled with tears. "Oh Harry…we hate seeing you like this…I wish I could do something," she looked to Ron quickly as her hands were trembling. "I'm sorry Harry, I'm so sorry that Sirius is gone…" She hugged him tightly and stayed there and Harry realized that she had never said these things to him before. They never talked about this, about Sirius; they always avoided mentioning the man for Harry's sake. And they were hurting for him, they were sad for him but they never said anything about it. How much had they wanted to talk to him about it? How much had they wanted to tell Harry how sorry they were for his loss? Harry laid his head down upon her shoulder as it shook as she was crying and he brought his arms, that had been limply at his sides, around her and hugged her tightly. He wished that they didn't have to feel this way for him; he never wanted them to hurt like this. But they were his family, his first real friends he had ever made in his life. They had been through everything with him, they had stayed at his side through it all and nothing could replace that.

Hermione came away from him, wiping the tears from her reddened face and Harry hugged Ron next, tightly. He had never really seen Ron cry but the boy's eyes were reddened as he hugged Harry strongly.

"I'm sorry, mate," Ron said.

Harry came away, quickly wiping his face with his sleeves as Ron inhaled deeply. They stayed like this for moments, on the floor as Hermione was collecting herself a long with Harry and no one spoke.

"Sorry," Harry signed finally. "I…don't know…what happened…" He felt light, like something had been lifted off of his shoulders and he wasn't as miserable.

"It's ok, Harry," Hermione said softly.

Hermione stood up with her bag and Harry realized Ron had brought Harry's book bag with him a long with his own.

"You know what we should do?" Hermione said.

"What?" Ron said as he helped Harry to his feet.

"Let's skip Herbology," she said with a smile.

Harry's eyes widened because surely Hermione Granger, a prefect, would never skip a class.

"Are you mental?" Ron said as he laughed lightly.

"No, I'm serious! Let's hide in the Room of Requirement," Hermione said quickly. "Come on!" She grabbed both of them by the wrists and hurried off, pulling them along. Both Harry and Ron were stunned.

And that's what they did. They went into the Room of Requirement and despite the place holding memories that Harry had of Snape and him it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. They lay on cushions and reminisced about old times and Harry found himself smiling and laughing a long with them. He couldn't believe he could smile because of what had happened with Snape but he was, truly. They joked around and poked fun at Harry's height. It made them all feel like children again. Harry was thankful for it, thankful for Hermione's sudden reckless behavior and thankful that neither of them brought up Snape. The room was filled with their laughter and neither one cared about their neglected Snargaluff plant.

* * *

"So, what are Inferi?" Royle's voice was loud and remedied Harry's lack of attention for he had spaced out, holding his quill in his hand over his D.A.D.A notebook. Professor Royle had the projector on again in the back of the class and Harry was now staring at a gruesome picture of a corpse that seemed to be crawling on the floor. They had been going over many slides already that morning.

A murmur broke out over the classroom as Hermione's hand shot up in the air. She was seated next to Parvarti as Ron was seated next to Harry. Royle wore a dark navy blue vest with black buttons over a white dress shirt and black slacks. He had his robes off and his heavy boot-like dress shoes made his footsteps louder as he walked about the room.

"Not you again, you answer every question," Royle said as he faced the front of the classroom after coming up the middle aisle. "Is this what you lot do? Just let her answer everything? You don't feel any sense of inadequacy? Any embarrassment?" Royle was waving his hands before him with a mock expression.

Hermione's face flushed as her hand fell a bit but she did not put it back down. The class was silent as Ron was smirking. Royle chewed his gum for a bit as he shook his head.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves," Professor Royle said with a slight sigh and everyone laughed. "Alright, take it away Granger…" Royle bowed somewhat to Hermione, making a gesture with his hand.

Harry got ready to write in his notebook as did everyone else and Hermione began:

"An Inferius, Inferi for plural, is a dead body that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard. They have no free will whatsoever meaning they cannot think for themselves or speak. Their only purpose is to serve the Dark wizard that reanimated them, like a puppet. Inferi are created with the use of Necromancy, which is a Dark Art. Inferi dislike light and heat so the most effective spell to use against them is anything to do with fire…"

"Ok, ok, you're getting ahead of my slides," Royle said. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

Hermione folded her hands neatly before her and smiled. The next slide was of a wizard who was fighting off an Inferius with fire coming out of his wand.

"Yes, Inferi despise light, since they are creatures of the dark but they cannot feel pain so most spells are ineffective against them," Royle explained. "So a curse like the Cruciatus Curse does nothing to them because they are already dead, lifeless, soulless. Inferi are violent and, when used as an army, are a perfect strategy when used in war."

Harry shivered slightly as he imagined a whole army of corpses all crawling about even though they were dead. He finished writing as Royle looked at his silver watch and said:

"Alright, we're done for today. For homework I want you to read the chapter on vampires in your text book, be ready to discuss them next week, there will be a test, I repeat there will be a test. Have a good lunch."

The sounds of scraping chairs and book bags being rummaged through filled the dark classroom but Royle flicked his wand and the shutters were opened, letting in the daylight and the projector was turned off. It had been odd to sit in class knowing what Harry knew. He felt somewhat bad that he had eavesdropped on Professor Royle and Ms. Gardiner. He couldn't help but think why was it that this man had tried to end his life when he was so young. It was a mystery and he couldn't believe that Ms. Gardiner had been the one to stop him from doing such a thing.

As he walked with Ron and Hermione to the Great Hall for lunch as his stomach was being tortured by hunger pangs, he remembered what had happened that morning. He was a bit embarrassed and he wondered just how many people had seen his tears but as he sat down no one asked him about it. He ate a few meat and cheese sandwiches with crisps and drank pumpkin juice. Ron and Neville were talking about Inferi with Seamus who was coming up with theories on how they try to attack people. Hermione sat their rolling her eyes now and again as she was already doing her research on vampires.

Harry couldn't stop his eyes from glancing at the Staff table but Snape wasn't there again. He was suddenly worried. Where was Snape? Was he having lunch somewhere else? Was he not here because of Harry? Because of what Harry had said to him? He didn't know what to do to fix this. How could he tell Snape how he felt? It was such a surreal situation. He doubted that a student ever had a crush on a teacher, well with the exception being Lockhart but that man had been full of himself and hadn't fallen for any of his adoring fans that happened to be most of female student body.

He sighed as he sat there. He, Hermione and Ron had talked so much about the past and now he was looking at himself and realized how much he had changed, how much he had grown up even if he was short for his age but he had matured. All through Transfiguration as McGonagall was giving a lecture on facial transfiguration he thought of nothing but Snape. He had even done a small ink sketch of the man in his notebook instead of taking notes. Luckily no one noticed. He found that he liked drawing and wound up doing more doodles on the page before class was dismissed.

During Quidditch practice he really couldn't concentrate as Katie Bell took the time to train up everyone else in certain strategies that she had drawn up herself. He wound up just flying around the field in a daze, almost getting knocked off his Firebolt by one of Jimmy Peakes's misaimed Bludgers. Jimmy really did have a strong arm. He showered in the boy's locker room and changed back into his school uniform.

Harry wondered how long he was going to feel like this and every time he thought about telling Snape how he felt a great feeling of dread would spread throughout his body, starting from his heart. It hurt knowing that Snape most likely didn't want to see him. How could he apologize? He felt embarrassed at his behavior toward Snape. He missed him as well since he hadn't seen the man since Wednesday afternoon and it was now Thursday night. Snape wasn't at dinner and Harry barely ate any of his ham and baked potato. His mood was slowly falling back into misery. He felt like he had no energy and that everything around him was passing him by in sudden blurs; like he had blacked out and suddenly was not at dinner anymore and was in the common room laying across the sofa as Crookshanks kneaded her paws in his chest and purred. Ron and Lavender were playing chess which put Hermione into a bad mood.

Harry stared at the fireplace as he petted the cat absentmindedly. It reminded him of the night he had dinner with Snape and he had fallen asleep on the man's couch and something felt weird to him as he petted Crookshanks. He watched his hand move about the fur on the cat's head and he felt like this should remind him of something but his mind just couldn't figure out what. He gave up on it after a while and went to bed, trying to get the cat's fur off of his uniform vest. As he lay there asleep he never thought he would have such a dream.

Those black eyes were staring deeply into his own and they had such a look in them, an emotion Harry did not know of. He lay against something soft, almost feathery soft and those strong hands were upon his face and moving through his hair and his body was shivering with pleasure. Those hands just felt so nice against him, touching him. He was embarrassed because he didn't have a shirt on and those hands glided down his neck and traced his collar bone and travelled down his chest and Harry couldn't believe how wonderful this was. Those hands, Snape's hands, were moving up and down his torso and Harry could feel himself almost panting. It felt good, so good.

"Harry," that velvety voice called his name. "Harry…do you like this?"

Harry's eyes snapped open as his heart was skipping over itself. It was dark in the dorm room as everyone was deeply asleep. He lay on his side with the covers up to his waist and his shirt had ridden up to his chest. His face was on fire. How could he have a dream like that? Harry shut his eyes tightly but opened them quickly as he could see nothing but the dream when he had them closed. He was aware of what had happened to his body during the dream, or a certain part of his body. His erection was stiff and being constricted by his sweat pants. Harry felt ashamed as he pressed the side of his face into his pillow. His bangs were sweaty and his inner thighs felt so warm.

He lay there trying to ignore the need in his pants. Harry's heart was still racing and his left hand traveled slowly and fell over the bulge. He had to hold his breath to keep the gasp from living his lips. He couldn't believe how the dream had done this to him. How just a dream of Snape touching him made this happen. He had never really been keen on touching himself. He knew his dorm mates had done it, albeit as secretly as possible but Harry had heard them a few times. He guessed it was just because he never felt the urge to or maybe he was just too embarrassed about the act. He had done it before, just to see what it was like and it had felt good but he just couldn't get into it; maybe it was just the fact that he always had so much going on and all the stress put it out of his mind.

But he wouldn't do it now, he could never do such a thing, it was wrong to touch himself and think of Snape while he did it; that actually made him feel nauseous and dizzy. He brought his hand away and pulled down his shirt. In moments as he cleared his mind as if getting ready for someone to enter it his desire faded and his heart rate slowed but his cheeks still felt the tinge of heat. He really was hopeless. Harry couldn't believe how he had such a dream and he hated how he could think of nothing but Snape. Not seeing Snape made him feel so unsettled. He wanted to see Snape, he really wanted to just tell the man already but the fear was holding him back. As he fell back asleep he thought one thing: How could Snape ever want to touch him in that way?

* * *

Harry awoke that Friday morning to the sunshine that cast through the tower windows. He wasn't looking forward to Charms that morning. He had gotten dressed into his uniform, not wearing his school robes as everyone else in his dorm was sleepily getting ready and were also surprised at the sunny day. He went to breakfast with everyone and ate his oatmeal in a trance-like state as Hermione was agitated as she was drying her Ancient Runes homework which Lavender Brown had "accidentally" knocked her goblet of juice over having its contents splash all over the parchment.

Harry couldn't stop his eyes once again from looking at the Staff table and his heart skipped a beat as Snape was there today. He was eating slowly next to a bored looking Professor Royle. Harry quickly cast his eyes down at his bowl of oatmeal which didn't look very appetizing anymore. He forced his heart to calm down as anxiety rushed through his body.

After breakfast Harry went off to Charms where they had begun to try to turn vinegar into water which not even Hermione had succeeded at but Harry could see that she was obviously upset over what had happened at breakfast. The smell of vinegar reminded him of the salad dressing Snape had made and he sighed.

"Gonna cry again, Potter?"

Harry turned his head to see that Malfoy was sitting in the desk next to him. There was glint in his eye that made Harry feel somewhat wary. He looked away from the boy quickly, ignoring him. When class was over Harry and Ron went out to the grounds as Hermione went off to Ancient Runes. They lay under the beech tree for a while. Everyone who didn't have class seemed to be enjoying the sunshine. Harry couldn't stand the boredom or the depressed state he was in.

"You want to go to the common room?" Ron asked him.

Harry nodded reluctantly and they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. He and Ron played chess which only made Harry feel worse as it reminded him of Snape. He was agitated now as he had lost for the third time in a row. Why did everything he did somehow remind him of Snape? It was maddening. Lunch went by in a blur and he didn't care to look at the Staff table. He felt as if he was just drifting a long through the hours of the day.

After lunch Hermione went to the library and Lavender had leached herself to Ron and having no desire to be around the two in the common room he went off on his own. He was just walking without really knowing where he was going and when his mind finally swam up from his sleepwalker state he realized with a jolt that he was standing in front of Snape's office door. He took off quickly as if being chased by something as that fear was grabbing at his chest. He was out of breath when he reached the entrance hall. Harry felt like a coward for running away. If only Snape would come to him, then maybe it would be easier to talk to him about what he was feeling toward the man.

He decided to find Hermione in the library and began to trudge up the staircases to the third floor with his head down. He felt sort of odd as he was walking, as if something was trying to get his attention but he thought it might be his anxiety. He walked down a quiet, empty sunlit corridor and didn't even notice Malfoy who had come around the corner ahead of him until he was only a few feet away.

"Hey Potter," Malfoy said and Harry's head snapped up to see the blond Slytherin.

It was then that his intuition kicked in and a sudden drop of panic hit him. The situation was obviously a dangerous one but before he could do anything, even move his hand to reach for his wand someone took hold of his arms from behind. Harry gasped as he looked to whoever had such a strong hold on him and he was met with the faces of Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise Zabini walked by and joined Malfoy who had taken out his wand and Harry's wand flung from his pocket into Malfoy's open hand.

And the panic really rushed through him now. What was going on? Was Malfoy really doing this to him? Four on one? Harry clenched his teeth has he tried to struggle against the two Slytherins but their grips were so strong he couldn't move his arms at all. He started to fling out his legs, trying to jump up and kick in every way he could. He wanted to cry out for someone to help but it was useless. Malfoy smirked at Harry's worthless struggling. He walked over to a door to Harry's right and opened it. It was a storage closet.

"Get him in, hurry," Malfoy ordered the two as he pocketed Harry's wand and then turned to Zabini. "You keep watch, Blaise."

"Sure thing," Blaise muttered.

Harry's eyes were wide as he tried to escape with all the strength he could muster but Crabbe and Goyle were dragging him into the storage closet which was dimly lit by a hanging lamp. There were shelves on either wall with supplies stacked up here and there. It was spacious but skinny. Malfoy shut the heavy door behind him as he walked in coolly. Harry's heart was crashing in his chest and he was breathing hard. The silence was horrible. Crabbe and Goyle held him before the blond Slytherin. Harry felt fear creep up in him as he was staring at Malfoy's face which was half in shadow. His eyes looked so menacing, so threatening as he was looking at Harry. There was no smugness about him, no complacency. Malfoy just looked like this moment was a long time coming; he looked like someone who was about to get their revenge, his retribution.

"You've been looking a little down these days, Potter," Malfoy said as he walked over to Harry. "Wonder why that is? Everyone is so in awe of you. You're the _Chosen One._ But I guess I can understand how that could become a bit stressful."

Harry's legs were trembling. He couldn't believe this. He somehow couldn't believe that Malfoy would be this low but his father was in Azkaban because of Harry so he felt he should have been more cautious; he had been walking the corridors on his own after all.

"It's good that you can't speak. I don't have to be interrupted and no one can hear you cry for help," Malfoy smirked. "I'm sure you know what's coming." Malfoy had his hands in his pockets as he was looking down at Harry and Malfoy nodded. Harry glared up at him as he had his jaw clenched. Malfoy took off Harry's glasses and Harry struggled as he tried to bite Malfoy's hand and Malfoy let out a whistle. "You should have a look at yourself, Potter, acting like a dog."

Harry gave Malfoy the finger with his left hand but Malfoy grabbed Harry's finger and bent it back painfully.

"You want me to break it?" Malfoy said and those gray eyes gleamed with malice.

Harry gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Do you?" Malfoy bent the finger back just a bit more and Harry shut his eyes and gasped and shook his head quickly. His face was sweaty and his body was trembling.

"I hardly care what you want," Malfoy hissed and with a swift motion of his hand Harry heard the snap in his middle finger and tears immediately sprung to his eyes and his mind was sent into a panic as the pain was registered and Harry gasped and then bit his lip against the pain. Malfoy smirked viciously as he brought his hand away.

"There's plenty of ways I could humiliate you Potter," the Slytherin said. "But I much rather prefer causing you as much pain as possible. You think you're such a saint, the boy wonder, some kind of hero. Bet you didn't feel that way when my aunt killed your godfather did you?"

Harry's eyes gave Malfoy such a look of loathing as his teeth were clenched tightly.

"Yeah, didn't feel like such a savior then, right Potter?" Malfoy had his hands in his pockets again. "But I'm afraid your godfather biting it isn't enough to let you off for what happened to my father."

Harry hated Malfoy; he hated him more than he had ever hated anything. He was entirely disgusted by Malfoy. Malfoy was pathetic and a coward. He would never be brave enough to try to fight Harry if there wasn't someone holding him down. He wished he could say these things to the Slytherin, mock him, degrade him in any way he could but he couldn't. But what he did do was spit in Malfoy's face. Malfoy wiped it off angrily and it was then that he looked the most menacing. Harry wanted to brace himself before it happened but Malfoy was surprisingly fast.

The first punch connected hard with the right side of his face. The second struck his stomach with a shocking force and Harry barely had time to react to the pain when another fist struck his right eye. Harry tasted blood when another fist collided with his mouth again. His nose was broken next with the next blow. Harry could hardly struggle and the pain was excruciating. His right eye was swollen already. He took a few blows to his rib cage and his stomach again.

The beating seemed to go on in a mix of blurred images and Harry could barely see Malfoy anymore but he heard his fists swipe through the air, the shuffle of his feet, he heard the boy's ragged breath as he pummeled those blows into Harry. Crabbe and Goyle snickered here and there. He didn't know how long it lasted but when it stopped he was gasping out his breaths as blood spilled from his mouth and nose, dampening his uniform shirt in it. Malfoy was out of breath from what Harry could hear and he heard him cast a spell to clean himself and his own clothes of Harry's blood. Harry's head was bowed as his arms were numb from being restrained so tightly. Malfoy brought his chin up so that Harry saw the boy's blurred face through his left eye.

"If it weren't for that scar I wouldn't recognize you, Potter," Malfoy said and Harry could tell he was smiling.

Harry wanted so badly to attack him but he could barely keep himself standing.

"I'll see you, Potter," Malfoy said as he turned around and walked to the door.

Crabbe and Goyle threw him against the back wall of the storage room and Harry collided with it and fell to the floor. The next thing he heard was the door closing and locking from the outside and something clattering to the ground and Harry guessed it was his wand. He lay there on his side, his body almost convulsing from the pain he was in. His entire face was throbbing as was his stomach and sides. He painfully picked himself up and found his glasses and put them on, which hurt to have anything touch his face. He staggered to the door and tried to open it but it was indeed locked.

He felt such anger rise within him and he banged his fists on the door rapidly, desperately and prayed that someone would hear. He sunk to his knees however as his ribs were burning and his stomach was on fire. He was wheezing as his nose was broken and bloody. He spat blood and cringed. He couldn't believe this had happened. Harry's back leaned against the door as he sat there feeling dazed but he would get a sudden shock of pain in some part of his face or stomach and it would make him flinch. It couldn't have happened at a better time. Harry laughed slightly and that made his ribs burn even more.

He was stuck here until someone would realize he was missing probably. He waited for moments; hitting the door with the back of his hand now and again in case someone walked by but no one came by. Harry guessed they were all outside enjoying the last moments of the sun. He lost track of time and he might have slipped off into unconsciousness here and there. Maybe he deserved this. He sure had felt like hitting himself after what happened with Snape. Snape; maybe the man would come to his rescue. He doubted it. Snape always stuck to the dungeons if he couldn't help it.

The pain seemed to only increase as he sat there. His insides ached. Harry swore as soon as he got out of this storage room he would get in as many swings at Malfoy as he could before someone could stop him. His body hadn't stopped trembling and the swelling in his eye had gotten worse. His head was beyond aching; it felt like he was being hit over the head with a hammer constantly. As time went by Harry guessed it was dinner time. Maybe Hermione would notice his wand on the floor if she was still in the library but he wasn't for certain she would take that particular route to the staircases.

He started to get worried. What if no one found him? And suddenly Harry began to feel claustrophobic. He tried to calm himself down but the feeling of the walls closing in on him grew worse. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to ignore the sudden sensation of feeling trapped in a tiny place. He didn't know how many minutes had passed but the room was filled with the sound of his ragged breathing. He felt like he was going crazy and when he opened his eyes he backed further against the door as a reflex because standing in the room under the dim lamp was Sirius. Harry shut his eyes again because he knew he was just hallucinating; Malfoy had struck his head too many times. He opened his eyes again and his godfather was gone. And the anger came back, flooding through him, controlling and he got to his feet and turned around and started to bang his fists against the door painfully. He needed to get out. He even hammered the door with his side which caused his shoulder to hurt.

Harry kept at it even though it hurt so much to do so and suddenly the door opened and his body flung into someone. Harry looked up to see a surprised Professor Royle who had Harry by the arms.

"Potter…what…" Royle started but something in Harry's mind clicked.

_Malfoy. _

And he thought of nothing else as he tore away from Royle's hold and shot like a bullet down the corridor. Royle shouted after him but he could hardly notice as he was running so fast. Harry didn't know where he was getting this strength; perhaps it was the adrenaline rush that fueled his focus. It was as if Harry was an arrow, streaking through the air and Malfoy was the target. Harry raced with such amazing speed to the Great Hall and he was one step ahead of himself as his mind told him which table the Slytherin would be sitting at.

It happened so fast, hardly anyone was aware of it happening until after it happened. His body was moving so fast as he tore through the Great Hall, his eyes looking murderous and shadowed, his face contorted with anger and despite that there were hundreds of students to witness it, despite that all the teachers were there to witness it, Harry's line of vision locked onto Malfoy and he raced down the aisle and with such energy he jumped, his right foot slamming down on the bench and he used it as leverage as he vaulted his body over the table.

Harry was barely aware of Malfoy's bewildered expression mixed with fear like the coward he was nor the sudden screams that filled the Hall, or the Slytherin students that threw themselves out of the way sending food and plates and goblets flying. Harry was only aware of his hands and body colliding with Malfoy as he threw both of them to the ground and then he was on top of the boy, hammering his fists into that ferret face and anywhere else. He pummeled him, one fist after the other. It was madness. He felt enraged and every punch was giving him so much satisfaction and he was drunk off of it. People screamed and shouted, he heard footsteps coming from all directions.

The words: "Stop, POTTER, STOP!" filled his ears but he was an animal, he was murderous as his eyes were wild as Malfoy barely had his senses to try to stop Harry's frenzied assault as the Slytherin was landing in punches of his own. It was when Harry's left hand was gripping Malfoy's collar and vest and his right fist was hitting that face that he hated so much in this moment that someone grabbed him with such force and he was ripped away from Malfoy but Harry didn't care, he fought with all his might against the hold. His elbow struck something as he flailed his body; he felt like he would do anything to get back to beating that cowardly, cheating, piece of scum.

Many students had gathered around the scene and all the teachers had rushed from the Staff table. Royle, who had been chasing Harry, had managed to hold down Malfoy and Harry hadn't been aware that it was Snape who had grabbed him.

"Stop, POTTER! _POTTER!_" Snape was shouting in his ear as he held Harry tightly.

He could just see red as his heart was thumping in his ears and he was trying to use his voice as he was screaming out silent insults at Malfoy who was curled up, holding his bleeding face.

"POTTER, CALM DOWN NOW!"

There was so much noise, so much noise and Harry was so amped up.

"Take him away, Severus, take him _away_." Dumbledore's voice met Harry's ears.

Harry was being pulled away as he kept fighting against Snape's hold. Malfoy kept getting further and further away as Royle was kneeling down by the boy and looking at Harry and Professor Dumbledore was restoring order in the Hall. He was dragged off through a door and into a corridor and was pushed against a wall roughly. His eyes danced about wildly as his senses were tuned in on everything. Strong hands kept him still and then his eyes found the black as his whole body was shivering uncontrollably. It was as if all the frustration, all the sadness, all the hurt, all the guilt, all the confusion, all of the anger had come up inside of him and he had directed it all on Malfoy and now his brain was functioning again and he realized just who it was that was before him.

"Harry, _Harry,_" Snape hissed out. "Breathe, calm down, you need to calm down."

Harry suddenly had no feeling in his legs as they gave way and he slid down the wall. Everything was spinning, he felt sick. He hadn't realized when he had started crying but he was and Snape was on his knees before him. He was looking at Harry's face, all over his badly beaten face.

"What happened to you?" Snape's voice sounded shaken.

Harry didn't know what to do. His emotions were so mixed up and Snape was here with him seeing him like this with his busted face, his disheveled uniform covered with blood stains, his knuckles bruised and busted, his hair a mess; he didn't know what to do.

"Severus," Professor McGonagall said. She had come into the corridor and she sounded breathless. "The Headmaster wants Harry in his office, now with Mr. Malfoy."

"I will bring him," Snape said.

* * *

"I am deeply disappointed in the both of you," Dumbledore's voice was stern.

"Never, ever, in my years at this school has any student ever put on such a violent, vulgar display," McGonagall said in a high voice.

Harry had his head bowed as he sat before Dumbledore's desk and Malfoy sat right next to him. Their hands were bound to their chair's arms. Malfoy's face almost looked as bad as Harry's. Snape was standing behind Harry with his arms crossed.

"I understand that having been a victim of such cruel actions from Mr. Malfoy would drive you to do what you did, Mr. Potter but that doesn't justify it," Dumbledore continued. "And Mr. Malfoy, you organized an assault against another student…if you were in a different position I would have you expelled from this school and have your wand snapped…"

Harry was barely listening as he sat there. He felt like he might black out at any moment. As he was calmer now he knew he wasn't sorry for what he had done, he felt no such remorse for his actions. He really had no idea how it happened as he could barely remember what he had done but if it had resulted in Malfoy looking the way he did now he wasn't sorry.

"One hundred points each will be taken from Gryffindor and Slytherin. Mr. Malfoy, you will serve a month's worth of detention. Mr. Potter, you will serve two weeks of detention. I will be writing to your guardians about this…" Dumbledore said. "You have shamed yourselves boys…Professor McGonagall, will you please escort Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing?"

"Yes, Headmaster," McGonagall said and with a flick of her wand the binds that held Malfoy's wrists to the chair disappeared and she grabbed Malfoy and pulled him from the chair and left Dumbledore's office.

Harry heard Dumbledore sigh. The binds around Harry's wrists vanished.

"Harry…are you alright, besides your injuries...?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry didn't answer. He didn't know how to respond. He wasn't ok, not even close.

"Severus…" Dumbledore said.

"I will take him, Headmaster," Snape said. "Come with me, Harry."

Harry felt like he was just floating as he walked with Snape who held him by his wrist gently, guiding him all the way to the dungeons and to Snape's office. He didn't know what to feel. He didn't have it in him to run away. Snape lifted him onto the desk where he sat, feeling like a different person. Harry was barely aware that Snape was grabbing things from his shelves and from drawers and he set the items beside Harry.

"Take off your sweater Harry," Snape said as he took off Harry's glasses and placed them on the desk.

Despite the pain in his face he felt the heat rise within him. With shaking hands he took of his Gryffindor uniform sweater and placed it beside him. His white uniform shirt and tie were stained with his blood. Harry didn't move away as Snape took of his tie and started to unbutton his dress shirt but he could feel his heart speed up. Snape's hands opened the shirt to reveal the many bruises that littered Harry's stomach and rib cage. Snape grabbed up a bottle and handed it to Harry.

"Drink this," Snape said.

Harry drank the potion down and it burned the cuts on the inside of his mouth and he set the bottle down numbly. Snape was now dipping a cloth into some kind of liquid in a bowl and ever so gently he began to wipe Harry's face with it but it stung badly and Harry couldn't stop himself from wincing. Whatever the liquid was that the man was using smelt strong and it made Harry even dizzier. But Snape was wiping all the blood on Harry's face away, soaking the cloth again here and there as it was a slow process. When the blood was gone the bruises were now apparent. They covered Harry's face, black, blue, yellow, and purple all grotesquely mixed into the swollen skin.

Harry was barely aware that Snape had taken his wand out and now held Harry's left hand gently and muttered something under his breath and Harry felt a sharp pain in his middle finger and he winced again but there was a sudden relief there as the finger was no longer broken and now felt very cold.

"This might sting a bit," Snape said as his wand was now pointed at Harry's nose. Harry flinched badly when he heard a sudden crack but the pain only lasted a second as his nose had grown very hot then very cold and was no longer broken as well. Snape took up another small bottle and handed it to Harry to take which he did and this potion made the pain in his insides cease and his ribs felt numb.

"The bruises will fade in time," Snape said as he had the cloth again and was wiping around Harry's swollen right eye but Harry could see out of it better now and he guessed whatever potions Snape had given him were working. His eyes were hazily staring at Snape's concerned, concentrating face and his heart ached and his hands trembled as they were on his knees. He shivered from cold as the air in the room hit his bare chest and stomach. As he watched Snape treating his wounds with such careful attention something was swelling up inside him, an emotion he couldn't recognize; maybe it was sorrow or regret but the tears welled up in his eyes as his bottom lip was trembling as it had been busted moments before but was now healed. Snape noticed Harry's tears as they spilled down his bruised cheeks.

"Are you in pain?" Snape asked quickly. He set the cloth in the bowl of clear liquid.

_Please._ Harry begged in his mind. _Please. Don't you know…what you do to me?_

"Harry…" Snape's voice was pained and somehow angry or frustrated but the feeling inside Harry kept building up as the pain was leaving his body, being numbed and he had to do it, he just had to because he knew if he didn't do it now it would never happen. The room was silent and Harry could hear Snape's quick breaths and they were shaky as if the man was trying to hold something back within him and before Harry could do it Snape's hands came to his face gently and those black eyes were searching his own and he didn't know what they were searching for.

He could remember this moment when Snape's body seemed to tremble as he stood there and Harry was upon the desk with his battered face and his bloodied uniform. The fire was lit, giving the office a golden glow. Things shined around him, glass bottles filled with different colored liquids, silver canisters and potion bottles of every size, even the dark stone of the walls seemed to dance with a sudden shine and Harry's eyes had fallen to stare at those black shiny dress shoes that he always seemed to notice for whatever reason. He could remember just how much this man meant to him, how much he wanted to be a part of Snape as those hands held his face softly as they were connected, linked, joined when only months before they had been separated by such hatred and bitter glances.

"Harry…look at me…" Snape's voice was just a whisper but Harry's eyes lifted up slowly as if they were some sort of magnetic attraction to Snape's own black eyes that held the light of the flames. He waited and what was only seconds seemed like hours. And he could tell, Snape was afraid, scared just like Harry was.

"Harry…I…" Snape was trying and all Harry could hear was his heart beat and Snape's voice. Or maybe it was Snape's heart beating so loudly in this sudden existing moment. "I have feelings for you…"

Harry's eyes broadened and the light leaked into them.

"I'm so sorry…I am so sorry…I never…ever wanted…but I couldn't…I didn't want to…" Snape forced out as he struggled to put the words together. "Please…understand…this attraction…I…It's wrong…Harry…I know it's wrong…God…what must you think of _me?_"

Snape's hands that were upon his face were shaking horribly and he had bowed his head deeply. Harry could see how painful the man's eyes looked, how tortured they seemed and he understood now why Snape had acted that way in his classroom. His hands came up from his knees and he placed them over Snape's own and brought them down, putting his hands into the man's own hands. He didn't know why he had begun to smile, maybe he was just so relieved, so thankful to the impossible because the impossible had happened. Harry didn't know what this could mean, what it could ever turn into but his hands came away and Snape looked up at him with his eyes looking so uncertain, worried, terrified.

"I like you…" Harry signed and his heart was pounding in his chest and he felt so breathless and shaky. "I'm attracted to you…and I'm sorry…I'm just a boy…and you're a man…but I don't know…why I feel this way…but I have feelings for you too…I have feelings for you too…" And he shut his eyes tightly because he couldn't bear to see Snape's face as his own face was burning. He felt so insecure, so vulnerable. He opened them slowly. "All I think about is you…and I don't know what to do…" He was crying again.

Snape suddenly came forward and Harry was brought against the man's body as strong arms wrapped around him. Harry's chin rested on Snape's shoulder as his whole body trembled against the man's own.

"You are all I think about…" Snape said softly and Harry could feel that Snape was shaking as well. "I'm sorry…I couldn't stop myself from feeling this way…"

Harry closed his eyes and he just wanted to stay like this, to rest against Snape's shoulder. He didn't understand what would happen now that they had told one another just exactly what they had been too afraid to say and Harry's head was so jumbled with thoughts and questions but he just wanted to stay here with Snape.

But Snape's body came away gradually and Harry was suddenly aware of his open shirt and he quickly started to button it up.

"I don't want to send you to the Hospital Wing…I don't want you anywhere near Malfoy…after what he did to you…" Snape said. "I'm sorry…I wasn't there to…stop it…"

"It's not your fault…I wasn't being careful…" Harry signed.

"You can stay in my quarters for tonight…" Snape suddenly said.

"But…my dorm…they…" Harry signed quickly.

"They'll believe you are spending the night in the Hospital Wing," Snape said. "I'll have a house elf get some of your clothes so you can change…"

Harry was looking at Snape and he could tell he didn't want Harry to just leave, not after what they had just said to each other and he felt nervous.

"Ok…" Harry signed after a moment

Snape seemed content with Harry's agreement.

"Come," Snape said and put Harry's glasses back on his face. He helped Harry off the desk and he stood on weak legs. It was then as Snape picked up Harry's uniform sweater and tie that he noticed the bruise under the man's left eye and Harry realized that was what his elbow had banged into.

Snape put his left hand upon Harry's back as if to lead him to the door that went into his personal quarters.

Harry felt unsure about all this but he kept walking and was soon met with Snape's sitting room and all the bookshelves, everything looking much the same as when Harry had seen it last Sunday night. Harry hesitated as he stood in the sitting room.

"I'll start a bath for you," Snape said quickly as he walked passed Harry. "Sit, I'll be back in a moment."

Harry felt odd as he sat on the edge of the couch. Snape had gone into the hallway with the many doors that he didn't know what was behind them. He wondered if Snape was nervous like Harry. He heard the faint sound of running water and Snape's footsteps in the hallway and another door opening and then Snape returned.

"If you would follow me I will show you to the guest bathroom," Snape said and Harry stood quickly and was led out of the sitting room and down the long hallway to the first door on the right and Snape opened it and Harry's eyes were met with a fine looking room with white tiled flooring and white walls. There was a black wooden wardrobe to Harry's left and a long granite counter and sink with a large mirror above it to Harry's right. Next to the counter was the toilet. The bath tub and shower were at the end of the room against the wall and it was made of marble and rectangular in shape. Another lantern-like object hung from the bathroom's ceiling but it was white and much smaller and the flame was very bright. Just like the rest of Snape's quarters, everything was clean and well organized.

"There are towels in the wardrobe cabinet," Snape said. "I would like to wash your clothes if you don't mind…"

Harry hesitated as he looked down at his bloodied white dress shirt and wrinkled uniform pants.

"Ok…" Harry signed.

"I'll step outside," Snape said quickly and did so as he closed the door.

Harry hesitated once more and felt embarrassed as his hands were shaking but he quickly took his shirt off and his shoes and socks and undid his belt and pulled it out of the pant loops and took his pants off as well and now stood in his dark blue boxers. He waited before taking those off as well and quickly folded them and hid them with his socks between his folded dress shirt and pants. He placed the clothes on the counter top and opened the cabinet where there were many beige and white towels and he grabbed one and wrapped it around his waist. He felt thoroughly embarrassed when he opened the door barely to hand Snape his clothes.

"Thank you…I'll be back when you are done with a change of clothes for you," Snape said and shut the door for Harry.

Harry sighed as his legs felt weak. What was he doing? He felt so out of place as he stood there in the bathroom. The water in the tub was filled and had stopped automatically. It was then that Harry looked at himself in the mirror and was almost startled at his reflection. His hair was tousled. The fading bruises looked horrible in contrast with his skin and his swelled right eye was purple and yellow and half open. There were bruises on the sides of his face but they didn't look as bad as they should have looked. Harry felt around with his tongue in his mouth and the cuts had already healed and he was lucky Malfoy hadn't punched any of his teeth out. There were light bruises over his ribs and his stomach. He felt stiff all over and weak but there wasn't much pain anymore.

Harry took off the towel and folded it. He went over to the nice tub and looked around as there were a few different bottles of whatever kind of soap Snape owned and shampoo. There was a shelf set into the tiled wall and there were more bottles and a body sponge. He set the towel upon the white cushion metal stool that was set before the tub. He had never been in such a fancy bathroom but he supposed it matched the man's tastes. He felt strange to be using Snape's guest bath to wash up in but he felt like he needed it. He sunk into the hot water slowly and his muscles ached for a second and then relaxed as he settled in the water. It was a large tub as Harry noticed. He took off his glasses and set them down upon his towel. Everything gleamed and reflected the water in the bath. It was hard to believe that outside such a place were the castle's cold and gloomy dungeons.

He closed his eyes and listened to the water move slightly and then slowly sunk his head back into the water and his face stung slightly as it was submerged. He stayed under for a few moments trying to gather his thoughts. He tried to understand what all this would mean; that Snape felt attracted to him too. What were they to do about it? When he realized he could hold his breath no longer he surfaced and sat up in the tub. He took one of the bottles that was white with a blue label and read with squinted eyes that it was shampoo but couldn't make out the tinier text and used his thumb to flick open the cap and he smelt it. It smelt nice, like melon mixed with some sort of flower. He squeezed some of it into his left hand and it came out clear.

He placed the bottle back and started to wash his hair quickly and it lathered in well. He quickly found another bottle of body soap and smelt that one which had more of a cologne scent. Harry picked up the sponge and got it wet and put some of the soap on it. He washed his body as fast as he could because it felt like he had been in the tub long enough. He rinsed his hair of the shampoo and his body and now the water was somewhat sudsy. His hands felt around for the plug and he found it, pulled the small chain and the bath water started to drain.

Harry stood and the water dripped from his body and he grabbed up his glasses and put them back on and then took the soft towel and dried himself off. He stepped slowly out of the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist again. He wished he had clothes to put on. He flinched when there was sudden knock on the door. Harry shivered as he walked over to the door and opened it slowly and there was Snape holding a small neatly folded pile of what Harry recognized as his gray and white plaid pajama pants and a dark red t-shirt.

"I hope this is alright," Snape said. Harry envied how the man could act and look so composed when Harry could not in a situation such as this.

Harry nodded quickly and took the clothes gently from Snape and the man closed the door. Harry picked the shirt up and found, both thankfully and humiliatingly, a pair of his black boxers. He dressed quickly and picked up his school shoes and belt and opened the door tentatively and stepped out into the hall and walked slowly to find Snape in the sitting room placing down a tray of hot tea with a plate of chocolate biscuits. Snape turned and noticed Harry standing there.

"You can put those down wherever," Snape said. "Come sit."

Harry hesitated but his legs moved on their own and he went over to the large black couch and sat before the glass table. He set his shoes down with his belt next to his bare feet.

"Was the bath to your liking?" Snape asked softly as he sat down next to Harry but not as close as they had been on Sunday night.

Harry nodded.

Snape took something from his pocket and Harry saw that it was his wand.

"The Headmaster handed me this, Royle retrieved it from where Malfoy…" Snape's voice seemed forced as if he was angry.

"Are you alright?" Harry signed.

"Not particularly, no…" Snape said as he set Harry's wand down on the table and he closed his eyes and opened them and he was looking at Harry. "You do not know how angry it made me to see your face like that…to know that someone in this school, in my House, did such a thing…while I was only floors below oblivious to it…And I promised you…"

"There was nothing you could do…you didn't know…" Harry started to sign.

"I should have been looking after you…instead of hiding from you…" Snape said forcibly. "I was…ashamed to have these kind of feelings toward you…I still am shamed by it…To be _attracted _to you…I hope you can see why I would be ashamed…"

Harry looked away and nodded slowly.

"I didn't…know this would happen…" Snape said and his voice was quivering. "However…even though I realize fully of what this means…and why it is _wrong_…Harry…I…don't want to be ignorant to it…I have tried, Harry, I have tried…so I could save you from it…But..I never thought you could ever…that you would ever…return my feelings…"

Harry was looking down at his hands that were on his lap as he listened to the man's words.

"I…was too afraid to tell you…I realized that night in the Room of Requirement…" Harry signed, "just what it was that I was feeling toward you…I was humiliated…and terrified…because I thought…you would be…disgusted by it…I thought something was wrong with me. I didn't want to lose you…I didn't want to go back to what we were before this…so I tried to ignore it too, I tried to forget about it but it just wouldn't go away so I wound up pushing you away and I know now that I hurt you by lying…I'm sorry…" Harry pressed his lips together as his eyes were pained. "But I want…to spend time with you…I'm sorry…but I'm happy when I'm with you…" Harry lifted his eyes and stared at Snape's face and was surprised to see that the man was smiling, it was barely there but it was a smile and it didn't disappear and those dark eyes were calm.

"No one…has ever said such things to me before," Snape said gently and his eyes looked to the fire. "Harry…I really do not deserve it…" He wasn't smiling anymore but his face still held an expression of contentment.

Harry waited as he was looking at Snape. He wondered about this man's life. He wondered if he had ever had anyone before, any such relationship but he decided he wouldn't ask such a personal thing. Snape looked to Harry and Harry signed:

"I don't really know…why you would be attracted to me…" Harry could feel his body trembling softly as he signed this but he had suddenly felt a bit courageous.

"I could say the same to you," Snape said.

Harry should have seen that answer coming as he felt his face burn. He could tell Snape plenty of reasons why he was attracted to him but then he would really die of humiliation. He really couldn't begin to guess in which direction they would take this and he was still very terrified of their situation.

"Harry," Snape said, breaking the sudden silence. "Do you…have a girlfriend or…?"

Harry bit his lip but it didn't stop him from laughing and he felt bad for doing it though he couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed quickly as he smiled. "But I would think it would be obvious that I don't."

Snape was eyeing Harry hesitantly.

"I just assumed since Ms. Chang is always…" Snape began but Harry immediately shook his head. He was amused and slightly embarrassed that they were talking about this. Snape seemed to drop the subject as he started to serve them tea from the tea pot. The golden tea in the cups steamed. Snape picked up a tea cup gently and handed it to Harry who took it carefully.

Harry blew on the tea gently and drank slowly. He set the cup upon the table as Snape hadn't touched his yet.

"I'm sorry for what I did…in the Great Hall," Harry signed. "I thought I would be expelled for sure…"

"I must say I was…shocked…and really had no idea you were that agile," Snape said.

Harry flushed as he smiled bashfully.

"As for not being expelled, you didn't deserve such a punishment after the Headmaster knew what Malfoy did to you," Snape explained. "The only reason Mr. Malfoy wasn't expelled is because Professor Dumbledore wishes him not to fall in line with the Dark Lord's servants…I trust you understand that…" Snape took up his own tea cup and held it.

Harry nodded.

"Are you alright…Harry?" Snape asked after a moment.

"I didn't much like being trapped in a storage room but I felt much better after what I did to Malfoy," Harry signed. He felt exhausted. The bath had made him relaxed and sleepy.

Snape drank some of his tea and set the cup down. There was silence for a moment as the fire crackled.

"Won't you come closer, Harry?" Snape said suddenly.

Harry's heart sped up as he heard those words and he slowly moved toward Snape until his hip was touching the man's own and Harry couldn't look Snape in the eyes as he stared at the many buttons of his black overcoat.

"You're tired, are you not?" he heard Snape say in that velvet-like voice and he nodded numbly as his hands held onto each other tightly. "Then lie down."

Harry was trembling slightly as he knew what Snape wanted him to do and his body moved on its own, as if habitual, and he lay on his side with his legs now upon the couch and the side of his head rested against Snape's lap. It was comfortable and his left hand rested on top of the man's thigh. His heart was racing and a warm hand began to brush against his bangs and past his ear. Harry's eyes fell closed as the motion felt good, soothing. Snape's hand continued this motion, slowly and softly.

And days worth of stress just faded away from Harry's body. He was no longer angry, no longer confused, no longer worried, and no longer afraid. He didn't care if this wasn't right, if it was forbidden. All he cared about was that hand, Snape's strong hand; all he cared about was being here in this moment. He didn't regret it, he wouldn't regret it. And as he listened to Snape's slow breathing and his own relaxed breathing, sleep took him and he hadn't felt this content in such a long time.

* * *

Harry's eyes fluttered open and it took a moment for him to fully be awake. He lifted himself slowly and stared at the pillow he had been laying on with a white silk pillow case. He sat up and his hands took hold of the soft dark gray cotton blanket that was over him. He looked around and the fireplace wasn't lit and there was just ash in the hearth. The table was bear except for his glasses and wand. He picked up his glasses and put them on. He stood and folded the blanket neatly and placed it on top of the pillow. He wondered if Snape was sleeping in his own room and what time it was but his eyes found the clock on the mantel and it read: 6:30am.

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry almost jumped as Snape came from the hallway into the sitting room carrying Harry's folded uniform in his hands. He was dressed in what he usually wore at school and Harry wondered just how many pairs of the same attire Snape owned.

"I hope you slept well," Snape said.

Harry nodded and he noticed the bruise under Snape's eye was gone. The man took out a tiny blue bottle and handed it to Harry a long with his clothes.

"Take this and those bruises should be all but gone in a few hours," Snape said. "You can change in the restroom and when you are done I will take you back to your dorm."

Harry nodded and Snape's hand came to his head and gently brushed his hair down somewhat and then he picked up the pillow and blanket from the couch and headed back to the hallway. Harry waited and then hurried off to the guest restroom. He drank the bitter potion down and realized how hungry he was. He dressed quickly into his uniform and folded his sleep attire neatly. He splashed water on his face and tried to fix his bed hair the best he could. He exited the restroom holding his folded socks and pajamas and found his school shoes and as he was tying them Snape came back into the sitting room.

"Do you have everything?" Snape said.

Harry nodded as he pocketed his wand and stood up from the couch. They walked together out of Snape's personal quarters but before they left Snape's office the man told Harry to wait.

"Harry, at noon come back here with your Invisibility Cloak," Snape said softly. "Wear something…casual and if anyone asks, tell them you're serving your detention."

Harry was somewhat confused but he nodded none the less and they left the office and made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. Snape said the password and the portrait hole opened and he looked at Harry.

"Remember, noon," was all Snape said and he turned quickly before Harry could tell the man anything.

Harry entered the common room which was empty since it was so early in the morning and he quickly went upstairs to his dorm and used the boy's restroom and took a shower and brushed his teeth. He examined his face in the mirror and the bruises were fading. When he came to his dorm wearing his sleeping attire again Ron was surprisingly awake.

"Harry!" he said loudly as he jumped from the bed. "I thought you'd be back from the Hospital Wing last night, did they make you spend the night there?"

Harry nodded quickly, thankful that his friend had suggested the answer to Harry's absence for him.

"It was mental, what you did!" Ron said excitedly. "But Malfoy deserved it that rotten git, I can't believe what he did to you!"

It seemed like Ron had woken Seamus and Neville who were now up in their beds and Seamus quickly got out of his and hurried over to Harry.

"Blimey Harry! You should have seen yourself! You were like a blur, that's how fast you were runnin'!" Seamus said with bright eyes and a grin. "And when you jumped over the Slytherin table like that, Malfoy's face was priceless and Snape having to pull you off him like that, it was brilliant!"

Harry smiled as his cheeks grew hot.

"You should have seen Hermione, Harry," Ron said. "She looked like she was about to faint. At first we had no idea why you did it until Crabbe let it slip and then everyone knew. What was your punishment?"

"I got docked a hundred points, so did Malfoy and I have two weeks detention and Malfoy got a month," Harry signed.

"Blimey," Ron breathed out. "But it was worth it to see you finally pummel that cheating git."

Harry laughed with Ron.

"Let's go to breakfast early, I'm starving," Harry signed.

"Ok," Ron said. "I'm gonna shower first."

As Harry's dorm mates left to their restroom he saw that the sun was coming up and the sky was blue. He wondered how long the good weather was going to last and what exactly Snape and him were going to do that required Harry's Cloak. He opened his wardrobe and wondered what Snape meant by "casual". He finally chose a thin navy blue shirt with copper buttons up the neckline and light blue jeans and his gray and white trainers. He looked over himself and was satisfied.

By the time everyone was ready to go down to the Great Hall it was almost eight in the morning and when they reached the common room Hermione was standing there wearing a blue blouse and jeans with brown flats looking at Harry with such worry in her eyes and she rushed up to him.

"I can't believe…why…how could you…" Hermione stuttered as Harry took a step back because of how red her face was getting. "I mean with what he did to do I could understand but how you did it…I just…Harry!" and then she was hugging him and Harry just knew he would never understand girls. When she came away she said flatly: "Your face looks much better…"

"Harry, are you ok?"

Harry turned and it was Ginny who had asked. Harry wondered why she was wearing a red fluttery dress with black leggings and black flats. Her hair bounced as she hurried over to him.

"What you did to Malfoy…the whole school's been talking about it," Ginny said. "I've never seen you…well…act like that before…"

Harry didn't know why she was blushing but it was making him uncomfortable.

"Come on, let's go already," Ron said.

They left the common room together and as soon as Harry joined the crowd of students all making their way to breakfast Harry noticed all the glances and stares and whispers and a lot of people shouted "Good morning" or "Hi Harry!" to him. Harry couldn't have guessed that his "violent display" last night could have made him more noticeable than he already was.

"I thought they'd want to stay away from me…" Harry signed as they walked down another staircase.

"What do you mean?" Ron said.

"Well, after what I did I thought people would think I was a nutter again or something," Harry signed in reply.

"Harry, I don't think you understand how cool you looked last night," Ron said.

"Malfoy's been abusing his prefect authority since school started, I'm sure lots of people were pleased to watch you lay it in on him Harry," Seamus said.

They all sat down at the Gryffindor table and Harry immediately turned around to see Malfoy with his own healing bruises all over his face. He faced forward before the boy noticed him staring. Cho and Luna had quickly come from their own table to sit by Harry.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Luna asked him and she was wearing brightly colored purple leggings to oddly match her dark blue skirt and purple shirt. Harry looked at her necklace made of Butterbeer corks.

"Yeah, I'm ok now, thank you for asking," Harry signed and smiled at her.

"It was horrible, what Malfoy did to you," Cho said quickly. "It doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"

"No, I'm fine," Harry signed and shook his head.

"Well, have a good morning Harry," Luna said and left with Cho who seemed reluctant to leave.

"I think Cho wants to ask you out again," Ron said as he was serving himself plenty of eggs and sausages.

"I hope not…" Harry signed in reply as he served himself some eggs and ham and toast in which he spread strawberry jam on.

"Well, you should get ready for it," Hermione said as she broke apart a muffin. "In fact, you should get ready for plenty of girls to start asking you out."

"Why?" Harry signed as he chewed his eggs.

"Because of the ball, I know it's still far off but there's going to be plenty of competition, do you know what I heard in the girl's bathroom yesterday?"

"What?" Harry signed.

"That girl, Romilda Vane," Hermione had lowered her voice and was she was looking over at the end of the table and Harry turned to see the girl who had introduced herself to him on the Hogwarts Express. "She was with some of her friends and they were trying to figure out the best way to slip you a Love Potion, Harry. And you know they got them from Fred and George's shop so they work, I'm sorry to say."

Harry looked away from Romilda who had glanced his way and smiled and wiggled her fingers in a wave at him. He looked warily down at his goblet of pumpkin juice and pushed it away slowly.

"I'm sure it's only her who's probably interested in me…" Harry signed.

Hermione scoffed and said:

"Like I said, just wait and be careful what you drink or if anyone tries to give you chocolate or something."

Harry nodded and continued to eat and prayed he'd never be tricked into drinking a Love Potion. Lavender was back to flirting with Ron again as he was finishing his breakfast and Harry looked over at the Staff table but Snape wasn't there. He joined Hermione in the library to pass the time and sat with her as she studied.

"You know…" Harry signed as he was sitting across from her.

"What?" Hermione said.

"Never mind…" Harry signed quickly as his heart had started to pound. He had a book on vampires in front him but he was uninterested in it as he looked out the window at the blue sky. He had been about to tell her what had been going on with Snape and him but he decided it best that he shouldn't; if he ever was going to tell his friends about it he would definitely only tell Hermione or Luna, they seemed to be the only people who might be able to understand.

He was growing bored and sleepy as he sat there watching students study and do homework. He watched Madame Pince go about putting books away and scolding students who were talking too loud.

"So, is Snape the one who healed you up?" Hermione asked suddenly making Harry's heart jump.

Harry just stared at her as his brain had seized up.

"He took you away from Malfoy…" Hermione continued as she was taking down notes. "So are you two being…_decent_ to one another again?"

Harry nodded slowly and he wondered, because Hermione was probably the smartest student in the whole school and not just book smart, that if she knew something already about him and Snape. Her brown eyes were looking at him.

"That's good," she replied simply and continued with her note taking.

He narrowed his eyes at her but decided he'd talk to her later about it. When it was a half an hour to noon he and Hermione left the library and headed back to the common room. Harry quickly went to his dorm and got his Cloak and and pocketed it. He brushed his teeth again and put on cologne and combed his hair neatly. When he came back downstairs to the common room Ron and Lavender were sitting together on the couch and Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Harry shook his head as he walked by the two who didn't even notice Harry as they were talking.

He hurried off to the dungeons and right at noon he arrived in front of Snape's office door and knocked. When Snape opened it Harry was surprised to see the man wearing muggle clothes: a thin cobalt dress shirt over black slacks and black dress shoes. The shirt wasn't buttoned up all the way to the collar this time and Harry could see the cotton white under shirt underneath it.

"Come in," Snape said.

Harry followed the man in and he noticed there was a black picnic basket on the man's desk and on top of it there was a folded light gray and white plaid blanket.

"Are we going somewhere?" Harry signed as Snape picked up his black overcoat.

"Yes," he answered.

"Where?" Harry signed as he felt a certain excitement rush through him.

"It's a surprise," Snape said as he picked up the basket with his left hand and it was odd to see the man with a picnic basket but at least it was black. "Now Harry, I'm going to be under the concealment charm so what I want you to do is put your cloak on and walk to the entrance gates, you know the way I'm sure. I will be right beside you."

Harry nodded and did as he was told as he put the Cloak over himself. Snape took out his wand and muttered something and then he was quickly camouflaged with his surroundings.

"You go first, I'll do my best not to walk into you," Snape said and Harry thought the situation odd because he could hardly see Snape.

Harry walked out of Snape's office and gave the man enough room and he heard Snape's footsteps alongside him. They made their way through the empty dungeon pathways and up the spiral stone stairway and into the entrance hall and out the open doors of the castle. Harry could barely see the outline of the charm because of the bright sunlight and no student seemed to notice their Potion's Master as they walked across the grounds passing those who were enjoying the weather. They walked a little ways and once outside the entrance gates of Hogwarts Snape took the charm off and appeared before Harry.

"You can take it off, Harry," Snape said. "Sorry we had to walk all this way but as you know I can't Apparate inside the school."

Harry took the Cloak off and pocketed it and stared at the road before them, the one the carriages always took to get to the castle. The sun was dancing through the trees and Snape held out his hand to Harry:

"Take my hand," he said softly.

Harry's hand came into the man's own and he held on tightly and they Apparated away from Hogwarts.

* * *

When Harry's feet touched ground he had never expected to open his eyes and be met with the stunning, sparkling waters of the ocean again. It was the same part of Oxwich Bay that Harry had come to on his birthday and they were alone and the sun was bright in the clear blue sky. The sound of the ocean's waves hit him like music and the smell of salt water filled his senses. It was then that Harry realized this was a date, a date with Severus Snape. He smiled softly and Snape's hand came away from his own. The breeze was cold but it felt nice. Snape set the picnic basket down and took the blanket and Harry helped him lay it down upon the soft sand.

"I thought this might be a nice way to relieve stress," Snape said. "And to make up for lost time…"

Harry smiled brighter as he sat down upon the blanket and took his shoes and socks off and set them in the sand. He couldn't stop himself from feeling this happy. He was nervous yes, but he was exhilarated to be in this place again, a place he had missed, Snape's first gift he had ever given Harry.

Snape took off his jacket and placed it upon the blanket and sat down. He took up the basket and set it down on the blanket as well. He took something out of his coat pocket, a small white bottle.

"Come here," Snape said.

Harry moved carefully across the blanket and sat on his knees before the man. Snape popped the cap open with his thumb and Harry realized it was sunscreen. Snape put some of the white lotion into his left hand and set the bottle down, took Harry's glasses off with his right hand, and said: "Close your eyes." Harry did so and Snape begun to rub the lotion onto his face gently and Harry felt those hands work quickly as he put some of the sunscreen on the back of Harry's neck. After a moment the man said: "That should be enough. Now your face won't get burned like last time."

Harry opened his eyes to see Snape closing the bottle and taking his wand out to cast a spell to rid his hand of the excess sunscreen. Harry had never worn sunscreen before and it smelt nice and felt funny on his skin.

Harry put his glasses back on and sat back down and Snape was opening the basket.

"Are you hungry?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded and he found out what was in the basket: Cucumber sandwiches, raspberries, grapes, mango slices, and these flaky pastries and chilled juice in blue glass bottles he had never seen before. It was all neatly wrapped and everything tasted delicious as he sat there upon the blanket next to Snape who seemed to always have that refinement about him even here. There were small plates and paper napkins and the juice tasted of pineapples, oranges, and strawberries. It was wonderful to be alone in this place with Snape. After they had eaten and only the pastries were left over, Harry looked over at Snape, the high sun catching his eyes so he had to squint. Snape was looking at him.

"Are you going to go over to the ocean?" Snape said softly.

Harry nodded and took out his wand and Cloak, and took off his glasses, setting them upon the blanket and got to his feet carefully. He turned around as he walked upon the sand and he was looking at Snape who sat there with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up passed his elbows and his bare feet in the sand.

"Go on," Snape said and he was smiling lightly and his eyes were squinted just barely as he was staring up at Harry.

Harry turned around slowly and made his way over to the shore. He had no care in his mind about how they weren't at Hogwarts; he had no care in the world of what anyone might think if they saw them now. He was just happy and the ocean water was cold as it splashed against his bare feet, wetting the ends of his jeans and then going back. He watched the waves for a moment and tasted the fresh salty air on his tongue and it mixed with the fruity taste that was in his mouth.

And that was when strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind and Harry closed his eyes as Snape was holding him gently and he felt the man rest his chin upon his head. Harry could feel the heat in his face and his heart was racing as he could feel Snape's muscled torso against his back. Harry, with carefulness he really never possessed, turned around ever so slowly in those arms and he faced Snape and started to back away into the water, out from the hold and Snape was just watching him, his face calm.

The water was up to his ankles and Snape started to walk forward, the breeze playing with his hair, shirt and pants gently. It felt like a dream. When Snape had almost reached Harry he moved back again, getting further out in the ocean, the water splashed against the back of his legs. Snape was silent as he walked forward again, his own pants getting wet and once more when Snape was in hand's reach Harry backed away further and he was smiling softly and all he could hear was the sound of the waves behind him and the far off birds and the ocean breeze.

He breathed out as the cold water splashed around his waist. Snape was walking forward, his pants and shirt getting splashed with water but his face was still calm, somewhat intimidating. And then Snape was before him and Harry didn't move away. Snape was looking down at him and Harry's eyes were looking up at those black eyes. It was a nice moment until a larger wave crashed over Harry, drenching him entirely and all Harry could do was gasp.

"I should have warned you, I'm sorry," Harry heard Snape say in that teasing tone. Water dripped from his hair and he brought his hand through it, glaring up at the man who was smirking. And he did the only thing that was obvious to do, he splashed Snape with a swift movement and Harry could tell Snape hadn't expected him to do it as the front of his dress shirt was drenched now. Harry smiled as Snape was giving him a look.

And what happened next, Harry had never thought Snape of all people was capable of. Snape took hold of Harry and Harry gasped as they were both put under the water and he briefly saw the sand and shells on the ocean floor before he was brought up again and staring, out of breath, at Snape who was entirely wet now and his black hair was pushed back and Harry had never seen it like that before as his cheeks grew hot. Snape was holding him up as the waves splashed against them and Harry just couldn't stop staring at Snape's face which the water gleamed upon his skin. It could have been a dream.

Snape's hands let go and Harry kicked his legs gently to keep himself afloat as he moved his arms slowly. The man swam back and Harry had never seen Snape like his before. Snape went under the water and Harry was left to search the blue waters around him and he was startled when the man surfaced behind him, grabbing him up by the waist again and Harry turned, smiling, and swam away from Snape until he his feet touched the ocean floor again. Snape was coming over to him and Harry hurried away, the water splashing around him and Snape followed quickly. When the water was up to Harry's feet again and he was out of breath he laughed when Snape picked him up easily by the waist and Harry's hands came to the man's arms where Snape had them wrapped around his waist. In a quick movement, the man had placed Harry down upon his back on the wet sand and Snape was now on top of Harry, on his hands and knees. Harry stared up at those wet locks of hair and the water from Snape's clothes dripped onto him. The white shirt and dress shirt were now drenched and clung to the man's chest muscles and stomach.

Harry's hair was settled softly into the wet sand and Snape's body shaded his face from the sun. The ocean shore splashed around them, getting Harry wet ever more still. Snape was gazing into his eyes, and Harry glanced up at the clear blue sky, his heart was racing. Droplets of water fell onto his face from Snape's hair. Harry's eyes found Snape's; the black orbs stood out and the man's face looked handsome. The water splashed around them again and Snape's right hand came under Harry's head and his heart was pounding harder and the moment was right, everything was right when the man's face came so close and Harry closed his eyes when Snape's lips met his own trembling ones. Those lips were hot, wet, and strong, pressing against his. Harry's breath hitched when the man's tongue skated across his lips and Harry parted his lips and that hot tongue came into his mouth and he could feel it tasting every part of him and Harry tasted the salt and sweetness and felt his nose upon Snape's face. Snape's hand was pressing against the back of his head.

Harry was dizzy as he was barely breathing and his heart was so alive in his chest. His eyes opened slowly to stare at Snape's face and their lips parted as the water splashed around them once more. Harry was out of breath and his body was trembling all over. Before Harry could try to tell Snape anything the man was kissing him again and Harry didn't know what to do with his hands when that body came flush with his. Snape pulled away again and he too was breathless and Harry was staring at those lips as his own were tingling with such a feeling he had never known.

"I'm sorry…I…" Snape said with a shaky breath. "I couldn't resist…"

Harry didn't know what to do. The kissing would have taken him to a perfect place if they weren't already in a perfect place. Snape got up from Harry gently and pulled him to his feet and Harry needed to lean against the man because his body felt so light and dizzy. Harry had never been kissed like that, never had he felt so good and all he wanted, to his surprise, was to be kissed again. Snape led Harry out to the water again to get the sand off his clothes and he took Harry's hand when they were done and led him back to the blanket where Snape performed a drying charm on Harry and himself as Harry couldn't stop smiling as they sat there together and Harry could still taste Snape's tongue.

Snape wrapped his arm around Harry's waist and brought him close and Harry's hand held the end of his pant leg as he was looking down at the sand. It was all so much, he had never witnessed the man seem so different, so kind and lighthearted. Harry sat there not really knowing where these feelings for Snape had come from, not really knowing where they would take him but he was living in this moment, and he was smiling softly and nothing before this had felt so right, so meant, so real. And Snape was staring out at the ocean and Harry watched those dark eyes fall as he bowed his head somewhat, the locks of his hair falling gently. He turned to Harry as the sound of the shore filled every inch of his body and said:

"May I kiss you again?"

Harry nodded once, slowly, and then Snape was kissing him again; everything else in their lives was left forgotten in a blissful moment.

* * *

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I know it was long. The next chapter will be up soon.**

**I apologize for any errors. **

**Please review if you have the time, they give me a lot of inspiration. Thank you to those who are reading.**


	26. Chapter 25: Creation

**Warning: This chapter contains M/M and Mature Content. Don't like it, don't read it. Thank you. **

**Some text has been used from Book 5.**

**Thank you for everyone's reviews and support and thank you for reading :)**

* * *

**Chapter 25: Creation **

He could remember everything he had once strived for when he was younger. He had been a cold and resilient child, he had been greedy, he had been poor, he had come to hate many things but he had also been in love. He had no desire to be a hero; or rather he hadn't the requirements to be one. He had no merits, no such bravery or honor, he had a pitiable self image and was shadowed by others much more capable than himself but he had endurance, will, intellect. He hadn't the strength to let go of the suffrage he had been forced to tolerate. He was not a leader, he wasn't refined, he was not an athlete; he wasn't a gentleman. He was just a boy who would cower in a corner while his parents would argue with one another.

He wasn't pure, he wasn't special; all he had wanted was power and knowledge and whit. He had been through enough humiliation to last an entire lifetime; he had been through enough loneliness to last an entire lifetime. He had been mean, he had been ugly, he had been jealous, so jealous of what he could not be no matter how much he had wanted it. So he had become bitter and spiteful. He did not know if he had ever once been innocent or when he had lost such innocence.

He was not a hero, he was not a romantic, he was not a role model; he was tormented, victimized, teased, criticized, doubted, cheated and he had lost what he had loved. He could never see the righteous path to take; he could never see the good within himself, so he had followed what was familiar, what was influenced upon him by the wrong people who he had thought to be friends. He was intelligent but that didn't get him very far, no, it served hardly any purpose worth mentioning. He was left to be forgotten, disgusted, hated, feared. He was a servant, a slave to the Dark and there was no escaping it.

And then he had truly lost everything; he had made the biggest mistake of his life and he had destroyed innocence completely and all he had left was death; to wait to die while he put all of his efforts, his skills, his treachery, his intellect, into serving another to try to absolve his sins, to bring retribution, to forgive himself but all he was, all that he had was bitterness, hatred, darkness, an undying grudge that was a chain attached to his body in which he had held on to it relentlessly. He could not let the past go, he could not overcome it because he was not that sort of man and when he caught his reflection he would never like what he saw, he would never be proud of it, he would forever be sickened by it, revolted by it. A smile would never exist on that face. Happiness would never reach that face. He was haunted by that face.

So he had refined himself. He had tried to live with himself. He had become a gentleman to himself. He had taught himself all that he needed to know and he had did his best to look and act the part but it brought no such solace, no such relief. He couldn't be saved by an image, an identity he had created no matter how polished or sophisticated it was; he had no one to impress, he had no one to share anything with, he had no one to try for, to live for, to give himself, his refined self to. He had no hand to hold in his, no such connection or companionship, no relation, no other pair of eyes to understand but his own, he was alone. His heart was cold, dead and he accepted it, he deserved it for what he had done. This was the outcome of his sins and he would endure it because he had always been a resilient child. This was his life; this was what he had made it to be. He had never been creative. He would live this way forever; live in the bitterness; live in the hate, haunted by ghosts and horrible memories, always.

Or so he thought. Severus had never expected to change into someone else entirely, he had never expected that life in its entirety and in its creation, he had never thought it possible that he would be given a miracle. He had never thought someone would be his savior; that someone would be kind enough, generous enough, strong enough to ever give him such salvation. How could such a being exist? When he had thrown open the curtains, when he had unmasked the lie he had created, when he had seen this person with uncovered eyes, how could this be underneath it all? He had put so much of that bitterness on top of it, the hatred, the loathing, all these unforgivable things, so how, how could this person be real? What sort of person is that kind?

But Harry was kind, truly kind, an eternal kindness. And Harry just seemed to forget all that Severus had done to him; as if the bitter remarks did not exist, the undeserved detentions, the humiliating scenes in his classes, those damned Occlumency lessons. He could remember everything about them, how cruel he had been, how like a monster he had been, to a boy of 11, 12, 13, 14, 15…Five years. Five years of hatred shattered, destroyed, banished because all he had done was return such a kindness. All he had done, all he had to do, was just be kind, supportive, helpful, that was it, that was it and Harry Potter forgave him. It should be a miracle, one that he did not deserve.

So he had, against everything, all the odds, all the impossibilities, all the confusion, he had fallen for Harry. It was just one chance, one tiny percentage of a chance but it had been enough. He was a man but he couldn't stop himself from caring for Harry, for wanting to have that hand to hold, to share moments with, to impress, to find those eyes to glance at, to look deeply into, to have to understand, to not be alone.

Severus had never told anyone how he felt before but he had been strong enough to tell Harry and to his astonishment Harry felt the same. He had never been so relieved or terrified in his life. Severus didn't know what to do, he didn't know where to go from here, he didn't know what was allowed because how could this be allowed? But he was greedy. He was hopeful. So against better judgment he decided that he would give this time and he would be careful and he would do all the things that were to be expected if it was a normal thing because it was what he needed and he was selfish. And all he wanted now, all he needed was to make Harry smile, to touch him, to be near him, to kiss him.

But he wanted to make it right, to be a romantic, to impress, to be bold and brave so he did something slightly reckless. He had never been on a date but he knew what one should be like; it had to be enjoyed, it had to be special, it had to have the right mood and there was one place that he knew that would give Harry such joy. So, Severus, without asking permission but with careful planning, took Harry to the beautiful beach. It was in these moments that he could really, truly experience who he was now. Because he had laid down the anger, the hatred, the bitterness and the darkness, he had put them to rest and he let the sun in, he let hope in, he let the good in and his heart was overwhelmed, his body was overwhelmed and he had never felt this way before.

He felt content, comfortable, desirable, wanted, needed because Harry's eyes would look at him in that way; they had that want in them, that need and he lived for the blush in those cheeks, that timid body, those clumsy hands, that careful but powerful smile, he lived for that kindness. How could he ever have hated him? Yelled at him? Degraded him? How could he have ever wanted to humiliate him? Because all he wanted now was to wrap his arms around that thin waist, feel the muscle there, the slight curve of his hips, the softness of his skin upon his own fingertips. And Harry brought this all out from him; the teasing, the playfulness, a smile.

They were just two beings in a world splashed with sunlight and filled with the ocean water and salty sea breeze. This is what Severus had always wanted, his entire life, it was hidden away behind overcastted shadows of those that were better than him, stronger than him, those that could be heroes, could be what he never believed he could be. But he was, now he was, now he lived, he was alive and he forgot those days in the cold office where he taunted this boy, tried to scare this boy, tried to make him miserable, they were dead to him. He would replace all of those moments with ones such as these where Harry's face didn't look at him with hatred, no, those eyes were happy, nervous, and Harry's heart was racing with excitement and fear. He was beautiful. And he forgot if there were rules, he didn't care because those lips were waiting, soft, pink, shining. This was all he needed, all that he thought he could have and never achieve, so he took it.

Severus kissed those lips and his body was filled with such desire, a craving and his senses were lost, he was lost. Harry's lips fit so perfectly against his own and he needed, desperately, to taste him and his own heart was shaking in his chest, his whole body quivering from such a feeling, an innocent feeling as if he could taste Harry's innocence, taste his soul and it was unfathomable as if he could kiss him forever but it was too fast, too much and he wanted to be careful, to tread lightly, to make sure Harry wanted this. Those eyes were so bright, reflecting the shadows and the sunlight, they took his breath away. He wanted more, yes, he wanted to explore Harry's body, to feel it, to expose it but he could not, it was too soon and he was too greedy so he held himself back, held his desires back, and Severus would just enjoy looking at Harry, holding him, being with him.

Severus decided it would be best to just ask Harry if he could do things that he thought Harry would shy away from. So as they sat upon the blanket, clothes still somewhat damp, he had asked for another kiss and Harry had wanted it and he was more than willing to kiss those lips again and his hand touched the softness of his skin as it came to rest against the side of his face. Harry's lips were unsure, untrained and Severus, just as unskilled, found it easy to lead and Harry would follow and as his tongue traced delicately inside that mouth and Harry's tongue met his own and his body was practically shivering from desire, he had never felt this way, he had never felt this good and he wanted more, he did but he resisted with all it took to part away from those lips that his eyes kept being drawn to.

Harry's face was flushed, those eyes searching his own face, nervous, hesitant, insecure. Severus kept his hand upon that face and looked over Harry's body; those shoulders were trembling softly, the shirt he wore was somewhat tight against his chest, and Severus's eyes glanced over the collarbone that was viewable. His arms, no matter if they were thin, had tight muscle definition. His whole body was ideal, almost flawless, practically perfect. His eyes came back to that face and Harry's small smile was timid. It was in this moment that Severus felt like he could give Harry everything, that he wanted to and that he would always want to. He was lost, overwhelmed, drowned in such good feelings and he knew as he stared into those eyes while his own face was so calm, so composed and still, that this was what it was like to be happy, to be true; this was true because his Dark Mark had been exposed for most of their time here and Harry had never once glanced at it so Harry could see Severus, just Severus and that was a glorious part of Harry's everlasting kindness.

And Severus felt as if he was living in a world where no one could touch them; a dream-like state. The hours in the day didn't matter; the days in the years had no structure. That body lay upon his, those hands reaching up as if to catch the sunlight and he took those hands, those small hands into his, and even if the boy did not feel what he felt, as strongly as he felt it, they were connected, they had always been connected; not by time, not by worth or structure, not by what could be seen or heard, but by the beats of their hearts and the shadows upon their intertwined hands and the silent moments where their eyes would meet and stay gazing and he would be lost, almost falling into those eyes, and the still breaths they would take, and the way they treated each other with such a softness that he had never known before.

Despite who they were, despite the existing outline of reality beyond this beautiful place, despite the evilness shielded by protection and despite the truths that he held back, he wanted to continue like this no matter what he would have to do, no matter what he had to face, Severus would fight for this in the end, after everything else, he would hold on to this instead of hate, instead of the bitterness, and whoever were destined to be heroes, destined to be chosen, this, this body, this soul, Harry, he would protect this and if he was worthy, if it was meant, if it was true, then Harry could be his. And he could only wait, he could only be careful because all of it, all of it had to be kept hidden. It was a secret, Harry was his secret.

* * *

"Don't fall asleep," Snape said softly.

Harry's eyes opened as he looked up into those black pools and that calm face. His head rested upon Snape's lap as the man's legs were outstretched; the heels of his feet were in the sand. He never expected the man's feet to look so normal and he laughed gently at that thought.

"And what may I ask is _so_ funny?" Snape asked.

Harry admired how the man's voice was deep yet so caressing, so unique, almost powerful yet delicate. He smiled at Snape and Snape's left hand brushed his bangs away and those fingers glided through his hair. He wished they could stay here forever but he knew it wasn't possible. He didn't want to think about how this would all work when they got back to the castle. He didn't even want to guess at it; he just figured he would follow what Snape's plan was, if the man had one, because Snape was definitely the smarter one out of the two of them and Harry knew he wasn't great at handling things such as this.

He looked over the man from where he lay as Snape was staring out onto the ocean once again. Harry realized that he would like to touch the man but he was much too embarrassed to do such a thing; he wasn't such a forward person. He wondered what Snape felt like. His hands felt strong, soft yet they had done much work and Harry had noticed a few thin scars here or there, barely noticeable even in the sunlight. He knew his own hands had scars and Snape would often stare at the one on his left hand from what the blood quill had done.

Harry wondered what Snape was thinking of. He wondered, shyly, if he himself was a good kisser. Snape was, well it felt like he was since it felt so good to be kissed by Snape. He felt such delight in his body, it felt heavenly and he would take as much from it as he could before they had to leave. He didn't know how long they had been here, they had eaten some of the pastries which tasted almost too good and Snape had kissed him quite a few times, the flavor of strawberry jelly evident between them from the pastries.

"Harry…" Snape called softly.

Harry opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them once again. The sound of the ocean and the breeze was just so relaxing. Snape was staring down at him again and he watched the man blink slowly.

"We need to get back…" Snape spoke gently.

Harry nodded slightly as his head was still upon the man's lap. He lifted himself up and Snape stood. Harry watched the man unfold and bring down his dress shirt sleeves and button the ends. The man swiftly took out his wand and with a slight flick everything that had been in the picnic basket was packed back inside. Harry pocketed his own wand and Cloak as Snape put on his overcoat and took the basket and set in the sand and Harry helped Snape fold the blanket back up. Snape set the blanket on top the basket and Harry sat down in the sand and put his socks back on and his shoes. Snape put his own socks and dress shoes back on quickly.

He came over to Harry who had been about to stand and Harry felt Snape's hands lift him up quickly and he turned to look up at Snape and realized just how tall Snape was as his head barely reached the man's upper chest. Snape was looking down at him. Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks when Snape's hands came to hold his waist gently.

"I do not wish to leave…" Snape said in almost a whisper. "I wish I could spend all of my time with you…please know this Harry…When I can't see you…all I can think about is the next moment when I will see you…"

Harry could hear his breathing as his eyes moved about the man's face nervously. Did Snape really feel that way? It was really something because Snape, only months ago, would never, ever say such a thing to Harry and he held those words close and he still prayed this wasn't a dream because he cared for this man in a way he had never cared for anyone else. He wanted to be with Snape and as surprising as that fact was, as amazing as all this was, Harry wanted this, desperately. He remembered all those years ago when Snape had been the one who scared him, who would stalk around the dungeon classroom, who would talk so quickly with such words that would leave Harry's head spinning, and he wondered why he could never see the man. His heart pained him. He was so inadequate, so insufficient compared to Snape. The man was so refined, so intelligent and Harry was so clumsy, so dimwitted. Snape was intimidating, commanding and Harry was nervous, hesitant. How could Snape ever feel like this towards him? He wasn't a woman obviously; he wasn't elegant or intellectual, he wasn't an adult but still Snape was looking at him in such a compassionate way.

"I want to kiss you again," Snape's voice sounded breathless.

Harry felt those strong hands holding his waist and he felt embarrassed because Snape had to bend down somewhat but those lips connected with his own and he felt himself lift up to the kiss as he stood on tip toe. How different they were: A tall man dressed in refined clothing with such shined shoes and a stunted teen dressed in trendy garb with well worn in Chucks. And yet they were kissing passionately, deeply against the bright sun and shimmering ocean.

Harry opened his eyes as they parted; his hands upon Snape's chest. He wanted to stay, he wanted it more than anything in this moment and he hoped they would be able to be like this again. It had been a date, a wonderful date, it hadn't been awkward at all; it had been perfect, his first real date and Harry thought as Snape took up the picnic basket, that Snape was always full of surprises. Snape's hand came into his as Harry took one last moment to stare at the beach. The man's hand held onto his tightly and they vanished from the beach, leaving it as if these two people had never been there at all as the last of their footprints were washed away by the tide that rolled in.

* * *

When they appeared in front of the gates of Hogwarts Harry couldn't stop himself from feeling slightly sad but he would be alright because this was much better than thinking that Snape would never feel the same way that he felt. They walked the long way back together, Harry under his Invisibility Cloak and Snape under the concealment charm and Harry noticed the sky was quite cloudy now and gray and just as they reached the entrance hall the downpour started. Harry shivered when they went down to the dungeons and he was thankful when they got back into Snape's office that was warm. He took the Cloak off and pocketed it as he watched the picnic basket appear and being set upon the man's desk.

"It is almost time for dinner, everyone should be heading to the Great Hall," Snape said as he took the charm off him with his wand that was now in his hand and with a flick Harry watched as the sand that had been upon his clothes and in his hair still disappeared. "Remember, if anyone asks you were serving your detention in my office and if they ask what you did during your time here you were sorting out rotten flobberworms from the good ones, ok?"

Harry smiled softly and he nodded his head.

"Harry, tomorrow…come to my office again at noon," Snape said quickly. Harry noticed that the man's eyes looked encouraged.

"For another detention?" Harry signed and smiled again.

"Yes," Snape smiled softly and Harry was surprised when the man leaned in and gave him a quick kiss and came away. "Go, I will see you tomorrow Harry."

Harry didn't know what to do but he signed clumsily:

"I'll see you tomorrow."

He left the office and tried with much difficulty to stop smiling and to extinguish the fire in his cheeks. It took so much effort to keep the bright smile off of his face and to compose himself because his grin kept coming back as he walked quickly through the dungeons. His felt like laughing, like jumping, like running; this happiness was overpowering and he had to take a few moments before he walked into the crowd of students all making their way to dinner in the Great Hall. He blended in with them and it felt strange when only moments ago he was on that beach with Snape. His heart wouldn't calm down as he sat down at the Gryffindor table across from Ron.

"What happened to you?" Ron asked as he sat down.

"I had detention," Harry signed automatically.

"Oh, I was wondering where you were," Ron said and it was then that Hermione sat down and she gave Harry a look with her eyebrows slightly up and Harry felt a sudden sinking feeling in his chest. He wondered if Hermione could sense something. He was making sure that he looked a bit miserable like he had hated his detention.

"Who did you have detention with?" Ron asked as he had started serving himself some roast beef and mashed potatoes.

Harry felt quite hungry for some reason as he served himself the same thing with a few rolls, gravy, and vegetables.

"Snape," Harry signed in reply without looking at Ron. He made sure to pour his own goblet of pumpkin juice.

Everyone settled into dinner as the rainfall was heavy outside and the daylight was fading. Harry noticed that Hermione was sniffing the air as she was sitting close to him and Harry tried not to flinch as her head turned to look at him. Could she smell the ocean on him? Or the sunscreen? Harry should have tried to change before he came to dinner. Hermione didn't say anything however as she returned to eating. Harry glanced up at the Staff table and noticed Snape sitting down next to Professor Royle. Snape wore his usual school attire and Harry looked away quickly.

It was honestly very strange and slightly exciting to know that just a few moments ago he and Snape had been kissing (Harry didn't want to use the word snogging as that felt too juvenile) and he smiled slightly at the feeling. He didn't really know how he felt about their secret and he was scared to think about what would happen if someone found out but he would trust Snape to keep it all covert and he would need to train himself to act normal around his peers.

When he had finished dinner, not really knowing what everyone around him was talking about; it could have been a mixture of Quidditch, the upcoming ball, _The Daily Prophet_, among other buzzing chatter, he headed back to their common room with Ron and Hermione. Neville had asked Harry if he could help with a few nonverbal spells and Harry agreed happily (as he felt as if he were walking on clouds at the moment) and he instructed Neville much like the way Snape had to Disarm and use Stunning Spells as Ron and Hermione watched from the couch. When it got late enough and dark the rain worsened and everyone turned in for the night. Harry showered; the hot water was a relief to his skin that was getting itchy because of the salt water. He couldn't stop thinking about where he and Snape would take what they had with each other. Was this a relationship? He couldn't really answer the question.

Harry dried off and dressed in a white shirt and pajama bottoms, brushed his teeth and wondered why he could still feel the tingling sensation upon his lips. Snape's lips had felt so good against his own and the way their tongues had felt against each other, Harry blushed as he remembered the sensations he had felt when they had kissed. He lay under his blankets in bed still thinking of Snape. It was so different, so strange to know, to remember that he had been kissed by the man; that Snape wanted to kiss him. Harry's heart quivered in his chest. He thought about what the man might be doing now; was he asleep or was he awake working late on brewing potions or whatever Snape did at night. Was he thinking of Harry? He had such a warm, tender feeling in his chest as he closed his eyes.

But a sudden worry crept into the back of his mind; that guilt, it seemed to rush into him and his body tensed. Was he so caught up in such happiness that he forgot that he was mute? That he forgot the reason why he was mute? That he still needed to get his voice back, to figure out what would bring his voice back? He felt slightly ashamed of himself and he felt the cold, deep ache in his chest. Had he forgotten about Sirius? No, he could never forget about Sirius. Harry wrapped the blankets around him tighter. He felt alone somehow. He had tried to disregard the truth, he knew he had. He should be trying much harder to get his voice back; he should be trying much harder to find the answer.

Harry was torn. He wanted to be with Snape, he wanted them to be together and to feel such good feelings, to be happy but he was ignoring what was the truth, what he was supposed to be focusing on. It was as if he had gotten used to not speaking, to not having a voice and this terrified him. What if he had ruined his recovery process? What if he had fallen into that percentage of people who never recovered? Harry suddenly felt very afraid. But what could he do? He had done everything Ms. Gardiner had asked of him the best he could, he had done the meditating, the practices, Occlumency, doing plenty of things out of the ordinary, learning sign language and yet nothing was working.

He lay there in the darkness and he tried to speak again but no sound left his lips and he closed his eyes tightly. Harry didn't know how to deal with all of it at once. He didn't know how to fix himself and he didn't know how to stop feeling the great guilt that he had over his godfather. He had gotten caught up, so caught up in Snape who always seemed to numb the pain, the misery, the sorrow; it didn't exist when he was with Snape. How could he help that? How could he have stopped himself from feeling this attraction to the man? It wasn't fair. He lay there worrying over so many things. He gave up on it after a few minutes and he calmed himself down. Harry cleared his head of all thoughts and his body of all emotions and sleep took him gently but his dreams of the beach and Snape had quickly tarnished themselves, turning into nightmares:

The triumphant scream filled his senses; Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream and he could feel himself having thought that Sirius had only gone through the Veil and he could see Sirius's face with that sudden shocked look.

"SIRIUS!" he could hear himself scream. "SIRIUS!"

He was blind as he began to move forward to that archway, toward the Veil. But the strong arms of Lupin had wrapped their way around his chest, holding him back and he could hear his sudden scream of such agony as he fought against that hold and he had bowed his body, the scream breaking him, tearing through his lungs and the pain was unbearable, immeasurable, impossible.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry…" Lupin's voice seemed so far away.

"Save him! He's only just gone through!" Harry heard himself cry out.

"Harry, it's too late!" Lupin's voice seemed like a sudden annoyance to him and Harry hated the man that held him back from getting to his godfather.

"He's gone, Harry, he's gone," and those words floated up in him and everything seemed silent as his eyes scanned the room. Sirius couldn't be dead; he couldn't die, no, not after he had made such a mistake, such a horrible mistake. Sirius couldn't be dead because of him. He could feel himself crying, aching, something was ripping its way into his chest; he could remember how it had just appeared there, eating away inside of him, the deep hole suddenly becoming a part of him. If he hadn't come here this night, if he had just stayed, if he had just listened…

He was suddenly falling into water, his body falling so fast it scared him greatly and all he could see was darkness and he plunged into the cold depths of the water and he was so confused, he was so mixed with fear and pain and sorrow. He couldn't forget Sirius, he could never forget Sirius, he had loved, he still loved Sirius with such a love that it had hurt; Sirius had meant so much to him. Memories surrounded him, flashing through the dark waters, he heard voices and they were all jumbled together. He saw the faces of the people that had been at the group session, he saw Snape everywhere, he saw Ms. Gardiner and her sister, Ron and Hermione, he saw Sirius and he heard the man's laughter and as he tried to swim to the surface, as he was drowning somewhere far off in his senses he heard a dog bark.

His eyes snapped open as the thunder woke him and the sound of it seemed to petrify his body. Harry could feel that he had been crying in his sleep as the cold tears were upon his face. His hands were trembling. Harry stared up at the blurred rain spattered window and another flash of lightning lit up the room and Harry thought of Snape and the roaring sound of thunder didn't make him flinch as badly. It was late into the night and Harry prayed as he slipped off into sleep once more despite the storm that that had broken through that he wouldn't have any more nightmares. And his subconscious seemed to take pity on him as he dreamed of nothing.

* * *

To his surprise he had slept in on this Sunday morning. He awoke when it was 9 o'clock and the sky looked unforgiving as the clouds were so dark Harry wondered how there was even daylight this morning. It was raining and the winds had picked up overnight. Harry rubbed at his eyes and noticed Ron was waking up as well. He got out of bed and headed to the dorm's restroom and showered quickly and brushed his teeth. He did his best to ignore the nightmare he had. He really didn't know how he was feeling this morning. He was nervous and happy that he would get to see Snape soon but he felt slightly down because of the dream.

He dressed in a dark gray long sleeve cotton shirt with white buttons up the neckline and dark jeans. Ron and Seamus were rough housing as Seamus had jinxed Ron nonverbally. Harry shook his head somewhat as he watched them and he slipped on some warm gray socks and his gray and white trainers. He put on a dark blue hooded jumper, zipped it up and quickly avoided being knocked over by the two boys as he hurried to the common room. Hermione was sitting down at a desk, reading a book about vampires. She wore a nice light pink blouse and dark jeans. Her hair was curled down and she wore lip gloss; Harry had noticed these slightly small changes in her appearance as the days had gone by; Hermione normally didn't care to doll herself up but Harry knew what it felt like when you were trying to grab someone's attention.

"Good morning," Harry signed to her.

"Morning," Hermione said with a small smile.

"I should study too…" Harry signed.

"The exam isn't till Tuesday, you have time," Hermione said. "Where's Ron?"

"Trying to beat up Seamus," Harry signed easily.

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her book and stood.

"You have detention again, right?" Hermione said.

"Yeah, at noon, have you had breakfast already?" Harry signed.

"Not yet…" Hermione said. "Harry…you know if you wanted to talk about…anything…you know I'm always here for you, right?"

Harry blinked as he felt cautious all of sudden.

"Yeah…I know that," Harry signed and he nodded.

"Ok," Hermione replied. "Let's go."

Harry felt nervous all through breakfast as he sat across from Hermione. What if he did decide to tell her? What would she do? What would she think? Would she be shocked, maybe appalled? Would she tell a teacher or worse, Dumbledore? Harry knew he couldn't tell anyone, not until he was sure of what would happen if he did. Ron, Neville and Seamus were having a conversation with Katie Bell as Lavender looked a bit put off because she couldn't get Ron's attention.

It was difficult to wait, he wasn't a very patient person he noticed or perhaps he was just a bit too anxious. When he headed back to the common room with Hermione and Ron he still had an hour to wait. He went to the restroom again and brushed his teeth once more and looked at his reflection. His face was all healed up and it was as if he had never been beaten at all by Malfoy. He waited in the common room trying to keep Crookshanks off him as Hermione was studying again and Ron was trying to go over her vampire notes.

Harry felt somewhat disconnected from the two of them because of what he was keeping from them. It was his private life, he deserved privacy, right? Harry really didn't know what it felt like to have a private life since he was so well known by the wizarding world and he hardly had any space to himself; even at the Dursleys he really couldn't be himself even if they did their best to ignore him and treated him like some sort of growing mold in the house. He never belonged in that house. Harry listened to the rain for moments as his eyes were closed and when it was ten minutes to noon he quickly said his goodbyes to Hermione and Ron but then remembered he was going to "detention" and did his best to look forlorn and irritated. But when he left their common room he couldn't stop himself from hurrying down the flights of stairs, jumping the last few in the entrance hall and almost ran through the dungeons, passing many Slytherins who eyed him oddly as they made their way to lunch.

Harry stopped at Snape's office door, fixed his hair somewhat and caught his breath and knocked politely. He waited a moment before Snape opened the door. The man wore a light gray dress shirt over black slacks and those shined dress shoes. Harry tried to keep his smile simple but he couldn't stop the blush that fell over his cheeks.

"Come in," Snape said as those dark eyes looked over him. Harry followed the man in and Snape shut the door and Harry heard it lock. Snape started to walk to the door that led into his personal quarters and Harry hesitated but the man turned around and gestured for him to follow. Harry, with his heart beat quickening, walked quickly behind Snape and they came to the entryway of Snape's living quarters.

"I made a light lunch, I hope you're hungry," Snape said softly.

Harry nodded once in reply. Snape headed to the dining room and Harry unzipped his jumper and hung it upon the black coat rack where Snape's black robes hung. He stared at the now familiar area around him as he walked into the dining room which wasn't as extravagantly set as when they had dinner but there were two plates before their seats with silver cover plates over them. Their glasses were filled with iced tea. Snape emerged from the kitchen as Harry sat down gingerly.

"How was your morning?" Snape asked as he sat down.

"It was…alright," Harry signed with a slight smile. "How was yours?"

"Uneventful," Snape said. "Did you sleep well?"

Harry paused as his mind was immediately filled with the remnants of the nightmare he had but he signed quickly:

"The thunder woke me up…"

"I was worried that it would," Snape replied lightly and he uncovered his plate as did Harry and he was met with a nicely grilled lemon salmon with a side of rice. The aroma of it was wonderful to Harry. There was silence as they ate and once again Snape's cooking was the best Harry had ever had; the salmon was very flavorful and went well with the rice. Harry's eyes kept glancing at Snape's hands, they seemed to have such a grace about them, they moved skillfully on their own and Harry looked at his own hands that were nervous and trembling softly like always.

"It was delicious," Harry signed when Snape looked up to see that Harry was finished.

Snape only smiled briefly and took his cloth napkin from his lap. Harry drank the rest of his ice tea and wiped his mouth with his napkin and Snape took out his wand and with a quick tap on the table the dishes and silverware and napkins vanished.

"I could do your dishes for you if you'd like," Harry signed with a smile.

"Nonsense," Snape said as he stood up with ease. He walked over to Harry as Harry got up from the table. "Our time together is too precious to waste on having you do chores."

Harry felt the heat rise in his face as Snape took his hand into his and led Harry gently to the sitting room. Snape sat upon the couch and let go of Harry's hand.

"Sit," the man said.

Harry sat close to Snape, his body turned slightly and he looked over the man's face as his eyes shined from the fire that was lit in the fireplace.

"Harry…" Snape said after a long moment.

"What is it?" Harry signed.

"I want…I mean…" Snape's voice was slightly shaky and this made Harry's heart race. "May I touch you?"

Harry could feel his shoulders trembling slightly as he wondered what Snape meant by the question. Touch him? Touch him where? He tried to steady his heartbeat as he simply nodded. Snape seemed to have a slight confidence in his eyes as he sat there with his body turned to face Harry. Harry's eyes followed Snape's right hand as the man placed it lightly upon his left knee. He held his breath as he looked up to meet those black eyes and a quick breath left his lips when that hand moved smoothly up the side of his thigh to rest on his hip. Harry could feel the touch through the fabric of his jeans and his heart was racing.

He was slightly fearful because no one had ever done this to him before but Snape was being so careful, gentle and Harry's hands were at his sides, pressing into the couch. Snape moved forward, that strong hand holding Harry's hip and it was different and exhilarating to see the man's body like this, to see their bodies like this. Snape's hand moved from Harry's hip and up, bringing his shirt up slightly but it fell back down as the hand glided up and Harry was trembling and not breathing as he felt the sensation of the hand travel up, past his stomach and over his chest. Harry's face was burning with embarrassment. His breath hitched slightly when Snape's hand now rested on the back of his head.

Snape's face was only inches from his own and they were so close to each other and the room was so quiet besides the fire crackling. Snape's left hand had come up to rest upon Harry's chest, right where his heart was beating so quickly. The man's scent was nice, it filled Harry's senses and he had no other thoughts in his head besides the fact that he couldn't believe they had come to be this way together, that these hands could make him feel so alive, so incredibly good and he was lost in this obsession.

"Your heart is racing…" Snape said in a whisper.

Harry was staring up into those eyes and he nodded once. He blinked slowly and the hand came away from his chest and it was placed gently on the side of his face.

He was lost. It was a sudden rush that reached up into him and without knowing why or how Harry moved forward, his eyes closing slowly. It was as if he felt that it was Snape who wanted him to be the one to do it, to have his trembling lips meet the man's own that were slightly parted and Harry had never felt so attracted to anything in his life. His hands were before him, pressed into the couch. Snape quickly deepened their kiss. It was a certain tenderness between them, an exploration of emotions and sensations and Harry could feel the eagerness in Snape's body. Harry had never kissed like this before, almost hungrily as his tongue played with Snape's tongue.

They kissed for long moments, parting only to breathe in fresh air and then they returned and Harry just kept getting lost in it all. He felt so timid, so nervous but Snape was good at leading him. The man's hands were upon his shoulders now. Harry's eyes were shut tight but they opened when Snape came away but instead of kissing Harry's lips those lips were kissing lightly upon his cheek and Snape's hair tickled his face as the man moved on and Harry's hands were at his sides, pressed into the couch as he stayed as still as he could and those lips seemed to dance over the exposed flesh of his collarbone.

Harry did his best to hold in his gasp when Snape was kissing lightly upon his neck, his hands were still holding Harry's shoulders and Harry's cheeks filled with such heat. Snape suddenly came away quickly, a bit breathless.

"I'm very sorry…" he said quickly as his eyes were closed and Harry's lungs filled with air.

Harry smiled gently. His whole body seemed to be tingling and he was relieved that his nervousness kept _that _from happening in his pants. He took Snape's left hand into his and Snape opened his eyes slowly.

"If you…do not wish it of me to do such things you can push me away," Snape said hesitantly.

Harry felt embarrassed but his hands signed:

"It's ok…I mean…I've never…had anyone do…that to me…"

Snape's eyes were locked on his own.

"It felt good…" Harry signed as he quickly looked away from Snape and he was flushed in the face.

Snape sat up straight and Harry looked at the man's face; he looked content. Harry closed the slight distance that had come between them and Snape looked down upon Harry.

"Can…I tell you something?" Harry signed.

"Of course," Snape replied gently.

"I…really like being with you…" Harry signed with nervous hands. "I'm happy…You know…I didn't like hating you…really…I just didn't know what else to feel toward you…"

Snape's hands took Harry's hands.

"You're much too kind to me Harry," Snape said. "You do not know…how much you've done for me. I honestly don't know how you could care for me…"

Harry felt his heart quiver as Snape was looking at him with such calm eyes. His hands came away and he signed quickly:

"But you're kind too, you've helped me and…I…I just…I don't know," Harry lowered his eyes as he couldn't quite tell Snape what he wanted to; he just couldn't find the right words.

"I quite like it when you are so flustered," Snape said and Harry's face burned with embarrassment.

"I can't be like you…" Harry signed. "You're so…composed all the time…"

"Harry…" Snape said and his tone was a bit somber now. "May I ask you something?"

Harry nodded as he looked over the man.

"How are you really?" Snape asked softly.

Harry paused for a moment as his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.

"I'm…fine," Harry signed. "Why do you ask?"

"Harry, I mean truthfully," Snape pressed as his eyes looked darker. "Please…you can tell me, I care about you Harry, I worry about you…"

"I don't know what you mean…" Harry signed quickly as he was becoming anxious.

"Do not pretend to not understand what I am asking of you," Snape said. "I know you are still grieving…"

Harry's eyes narrowed further and he was suddenly irritated and disappointed. How could Snape bring such a thing up now? Right after Harry had felt so good from their kissing, from Snape's hands touching him that way? He didn't want it to be ruined.

"I don't want to talk about that," Harry signed.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"So you'll allow yourself to talk about it with that _woman _but when I sincerely ask you about such a thing you're immediately withdrawn from the subject," Snape almost snapped at him.

Harry's hands gripped together and he was pushing down the urge to glare at Snape.

"Why are you forcing it like this?" Harry signed. "It's not fair, you said over and over how you didn't like how I had to talk about it with her because of what it does to me and here you are not caring about how I don't want to talk about it now."

"I just want to know how you're feeling, I honestly am concerned for you," Snape said quickly.

"But how can I talk about it with you?" Harry signed as the anger within him seemed to turn into apprehensiveness.

"What do you mean?" Snape said.

"You…" Harry pointed at Snape slightly as his vision was shaking because he was trembling so badly. "You hated my godfather…" He couldn't help but remember the horrible nightmare now, it wasn't just a nightmare, it was a memory. "I…" Harry felt his eyes burn. "I don't want to be the reason for you to remember things you don't want to…" His lips were shaking somewhat. "I don't want to do that to you anymore…You…you don't know how horrible I felt when I saw that memory…You…don't know how…I hated to know that my dad did those things to you…How…it made me feel to be disappointed in him…even though he was my father…You don't know how much I knew exactly what you were feeling because I know how it feels…to be humiliated…while everyone just laughs at you…and…" Harry hated the tears that came to his eyes and he was shaking so much. He really needed to learn to control his emotions.

"Harry…" Snape's voice was too soft. "I want to know…I want to know everything you're feeling, Harry…Don't hold yourself back for the sake of me…I held on to those memories for too long and I used them as the ammunition towards the hatred I had for you…But they will never come between you and I again, don't you understand?" Snape had taken Harry's hands and he was looking at Harry intensely.

"But how?" Harry signed as he pulled his hands from Snape's gently. His eyes were still tear-filled making them stand out greatly. "How can…you just forget all of it? How can you just let it go like that?"

"Because I have no desire to live like that any longer, Harry," Snape answered with a kind of strength in his voice. "And surely you realize just how quickly you forgave me for everything I did to you; surely you _must_ realize I do not deserve such a swift pardon from you."

Harry was still as he sat there, looking down at Snape's hands. He waited for a long moment thinking over Snape's words.

"I trust you…" Harry signed as his eyes lifted carefully to look at Snape's face. The man always looked so poised.

Snape was silent as he just stared at Harry.

"I had a dream…about when he died…" Harry signed and he wasn't looking at Snape and his eyes were filled with pain. "I didn't know how it felt to lose someone you loved…until that point…I didn't know…Somehow I didn't know that it could hurt this badly…" The tears fell down his cheeks and he did nothing to wipe them away. His whole body seemed to quake as his hands somehow found the courage to move. "It scares me…every day…Every single day it hurts…but there's nothing I can do…It's my fault…" Harry was looking down at his hands that were before him and his eyes met Snape's and he was just looking at him carefully. "I should have listened to you…" Harry looked to the fire. "I know I can't change anything, it's already done…but I can't stop myself…I try but I'm weak…and I feel so humiliated…because you always have to see me this way…"

"Harry…" Snape finally spoke. "Come here."

Harry's body moved on its own over to Snape again and Snape turned his body to face him and those warm hands wiped the tears away quickly. Harry blinked as he breathed in deeply.

"You're not weak Harry," Snape said softly. "You just made a mistake…I wish I could take the pain you feel away…" Snape's hands took Harry's and he held them somewhat tightly. "How could you listen to me when all I ever did was be cruel to you? The way I spoke to you…I'm ashamed of it, Harry…I'm ashamed that you have to remember me that way…"

Harry was surprised as Snape's lips met his own and Snape was kissing him deeply, zealously and Harry's mind was quickly taken somewhere else as he felt his back lay against the couch, the back of his head resting gently against the soft cushion. Snape was above him and Harry heard the noises the sofa made as Snape's body was moving, his hands wrapped around Harry's wrists, holding them up somewhat. Harry had no idea how they wound up this way, how the moment had been so somber and had turned into one so intimate.

But Harry was feeling too good to care; the hurt in his chest seemed to swallow in on itself and it was sedated easily. He felt the burning at the bottom of his stomach and if Snape didn't stop soon he wouldn't be able to fight against what was sure to happen next. To his relief Snape's lips and tongue left his own and Harry watched hazily as the man straightened himself on the couch quickly and the back of his hand came over his lips.

"I apologize once more…" Snape muttered as he sounded out of breath.

Harry didn't know why anyone would apologize for such a thing but his senses were being revived in his head and he pushed himself up from the couch, his face burning up to his ears.

"This is a lot harder than I thought it would be…" Harry heard Snape say to himself. It wasn't like the man to talk to himself. Harry couldn't help but wonder how good it made Snape feel to kiss him because it sure felt good for him.

"I shouldn't jumble up your emotions in that way," Snape still sounded apologetic and slightly worried.

Harry could understand what Snape meant; it was detrimental to his recovery but he felt better however and the way Snape sounded, it made him want to smile.

"I'm ok," Harry signed when Snape finally looked at him and had his hands upon his knees.

Snape looked to the low fire in the fireplace and Harry wondered what the man was thinking about. When Snape was silent he was usually thinking. He couldn't help but smile softly because Snape's behavior was so contrasted against the way he acted in his classes and how he used to be. Harry realized just how fast the months had gone by and it seemed like such a creation that was the two of them together, how hate had evolved into a mutual understanding and then lightly developed, like a blooming flower, into what it was now; an attraction, a bond, a common attachment.

"I remember your voice…" Snape's words were caressing. Harry's attention quickly turned to the man. "I have to admit…" Snape turned to face him, his body was leaning with his elbows on his knees, the muscles in his back definite, his hands intertwined together, the locks of his hair moving slightly with the turn of his head and the light of the fire shined off the darkness of it. Those eyes glistened, those lips were parted and Harry seemed mesmerized by the man and it surprised him. Maybe it was just because Snape's clothes always looked expensive or maybe it was because the man was ruggedly good-looking. "I wait in quiet desperation for the day when I will hear it again…"

Harry didn't blink as his lips were pressed together and he knew he was blushing. Snape straightened himself and smiled gently at Harry. Harry suddenly wished the man would smile more, a lot more, really smile, maybe even laugh because he wanted to see it and hear it. Snape's eyes found the clock and the man looked slightly displeased.

"It's time for you to go back to your dorm," Snape said.

"Can't I just say you made me stay longer?" Harry signed with his eyes hopeful.

"I'm sorry Harry, I don't want people to think I'm torturing you down here," Snape said.

Harry tried not to look disappointed as Snape stood.

"You'll see me tomorrow," Snape said as he came before Harry. Harry nodded and Snape held out his hands in which he took and the man helped him to his feet and before he could do anything else Snape was kissing him again and Harry's lips turned into a smile against Snape's own. Snape came away. "I look forward to tomorrow."

Harry smiled brighter. Snape took out his wand and flicked it and Harry recognized the man's over coat that he always wore during school and Harry watched as the man put it on and those hands moved so quickly as he buttoned all of those buttons. The gray dress shirt contrasted much differently than the white. They walked over to the entry way where Harry put his jumper back on and Snape put his robes over his coat. They returned to the man's office and the dungeon's passageways were empty and quiet as they walked side by side.

"You can't be smiling, you just had detention," Snape said but his voice wasn't harsh.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry signed and laughed slightly.

They walked together and Harry caught the slight smile that came upon the man's face but it was quickly gone when they made their way up the spiral staircase and a few students were coming down the stairs. This was their secret, Harry thought as they walked past the few students in the entrance hall, his eyes glancing at their faces and they looked somewhat fearful because of Snape's presence. This was their secret and he would do anything to keep this secret safe.

* * *

"What have you got there?" Ron asked as he sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"A gift catalog," Harry signed as he had the booklet in front of him.

"Who you buying a gift for?" Ron said.

Harry looked up at Ron, his eyes narrowing.

"Hermione," Harry signed.

"Why you getting her a gift?" Ron asked skeptically.

Harry glared at the boy.

"Thursday, September nineteenth," Harry signed.

"And?" Ron said and gave Harry a look.

"Her birthday you git," Harry signed and watched Ron's face pale. "I can't believe you forgot…"

"Hey, I'm not good at remembering birthdays!" Ron retorted.

Harry had woken up early this gloomy, rainy Monday morning feeling energized and focused. He had showered and gotten ready in his uniform and robes and had ate breakfast with Hermione early as Harry hadn't bothered to wake the boy up since Ron had stayed up quite late the night before talking to who else but Lavender Brown. Harry had waved at Hermione, who hadn't been in any sort of good mood, as she went off to Ancient Runes and Harry had gotten the gift catalog from Parvarti who was subscribed to it. He was searching for the right kind of gift for Hermione since he was a _good_ friend and remembered her birthday.

Knowing that Ron hadn't cared to remember or even write it down somewhere made him angry at his ginger haired friend. Hermione had always done so much for them, going out of her way to finish their homework for them and even write complete essays for them and had remained loyal in all of their endeavors together so to forget her birthday, her 17th birthday, Harry wouldn't allow it. He had decided that morning that he should get the gift today since the school's mail was being searched through as a security precaution and he wanted the gift to arrive on time.

"Well, luckily you have me," Harry signed and Ron looked slightly ashamed of himself.

Harry flipped through the pages and spotted a fine looking pair of knitted gloves. They were white with tiny embroidered aster flowers. Harry began to fill out an order slip with his pen.

"Can I have a look at it when you're done?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded as he finished the slip and tore it out neatly and handed the catalog to Ron.

"Send the order off today," Harry signed and he took out an envelope and put the slip in with the correct amount of money and addressed it. Ron ate his breakfast as he flipped through the pages, his eyes concentrating. Harry pocketed his envelope. "See you in Charms."

Ron nodded and Harry left the Gryffindor table, noticing a few girls glancing at him quickly. He hurried out into the entrance hall and headed to the West Tower to the Owlery. It was quite cold and wet when he entered the room filled with owls of all kinds all nestled atop their perches. He was careful as he walked across the slippery floor and grimaced at the droppings and regurgitated bones of mice. He found Hedwig sleeping on her perch and he reached up and stroked her softly. She woke quickly and hooted at him and flew to his outstretched arm.

He took out the envelope and let Hedwig fly to the nearest window ledge. He found some string in his school bag and was able to tie the letter to her leg. He petted her softly once more as the light rainfall made little droplets on his robes. She took off quickly and he watched her disappear in the gray sky. Harry waited for a moment as raindrops caught in his hair. He turned quickly, the cold making him shiver, and hurried back.

They were still practicing turning vinegar into water in Charms and Harry's head hurt from concentrating, the liquid was looking clearer though. It wasn't long before points were given to Hermione for succeeding. Harry felt slightly envious since he was trying to work harder in all of his classes. During lunch Harry kept glancing at the Staff table to see Snape who seemed to be having a conversation with Dumbledore who, to Harry's worry, looked weary, but Harry tried to focus on eating his tomato soup as the rain only got worse. He read the chapter on vampires in _Confronting the Faceless_ without much interest. When the bell sounded throughout the Great Hall Harry headed off with Hermione to the cold, dreary dungeons and the two of them held their robes tighter to their bodies. They waited outside the Potions classroom and Harry avoided Malfoy's glare.

_If you didn't want me to punch your face in you should have gone into hiding after you locked me in that storage room. _Harry thought. His fingers felt like ice as he tried to keep them warm in his robe's pockets. When Snape let them in the man met his glance and Harry had to force his face into a blank expression to keep himself from smiling. It was odd yet amusing when they both looked away at the exact same time. Harry took his usual seat next to Hermione behind the bench where the two Slytherins always sat.

Snape had them all brewing the Elixir to Induce Euphoria for the hour and half of class. Harry found the instructions to be slightly easy to follow and with careful focus his potion wound up being the desired color of sunshine yellow. The mixture smelt sweet to Harry and Snape went around the classroom checking everyone's cauldrons. It was a bizarre feeling to sit next to Hermione with his potion looking exactly the same as hers and he felt a certain sense of accomplishment. He was glad not to have to do an essay like half the class.

Hermione spelled their cauldrons clean as Harry cleaned up their workbench. He put his Potions book away and hung around a bit as the students filed out of the classroom. Hermione didn't care to ask him why he was staying behind and left the classroom with the small crowd. Harry walked over to Snape who was making notes on a calendar on his desk. He briefly remembered what had taken place in this exact spot last Wednesday.

"I was impressed with your concentration today, Harry," Snape said softly as he gathered up papers. Harry caught the slight mocking tone in the man's words. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Harry signed. "What about you?"

"I'm quite alright," Snape answered as he set the pile of papers down.

"May I ask you something?" Harry signed as his heart beat picked up.

"What is it?" Snape asked.

"Do I…" Harry's hands were trembling ever so softly. "Do I make you happy?"

Harry really didn't know why he had asked it. He had thought for long moments in the night what it meant to be in a relationship since he had really never been in one before. He was with Severus Snape, a man older and wiser than himself and he still didn't know much about the man but his mind was still filled with everything he had learned about Snape. So this was Snape, a man he had been so used to seeing with a scowl on his face, with coldness and hatred in his eyes. So when he had thought about Snape all that came to mind was whatever he could do for him, all he suddenly cared about was if the man was happy or not and he guessed that this was normal when you were in a relationship, even one such as theirs.

Snape was silent for a while as he just stared into Harry's eyes and Harry was once again lost in those black pools. His heart seemed to shiver just like the rest of his body for the dungeon classroom was cold. Snape took a step forward and Harry was looking up at him. Snape's hands came to the sides of his face, gently, and they were warm. Harry closed his eyes when Snape's lips met his own, softly. When the man came away, Harry bowed his head down as his cheeks were flushed and he blinked slowly. Those fingertips sent shivers down his spine as he felt them on the back of his neck. He raised his head and Snape's velvet-like voice spoke:

"Yes, Harry, very much so."

Harry smiled at this and he didn't know why it made him feel so content himself.

"I'll see you tonight," Snape said as his hands came away from Harry.

Harry nodded and he left the classroom quickly. As he walked through the dungeons many thoughts coiled up within his mind. It was as if he was carrying something fragile in his hands or close to his heart; it was what they were, he and Snape, whatever tied them together wasn't fate or destiny, it was chance, a chance that he had stumbled upon. But he couldn't help but realize just how tightly he was holding on to it. He no longer cared for the rational way to explain what he and Snape were. He was still scared and too hopeful but he couldn't go back now and he didn't want to. Whatever was to the come he felt like he had the strength to face it and he would never give up on getting his voice back because Snape was waiting for him.

* * *

**Sorry this took a while, I have been on antibiotics which make me quite sleepy. **

**I hope everyone liked this chapter, sorry if it was slow paced. There's a lot to come in the next chapter and a lot of Snape's POV. Thank you for those who have reviewed and for those who are reading. I hope you have the time to review this chapter. **

**I apologize if there are any errors. **

**Note: I feel bad because if I am not mistaken, Hermione's birthday was never mentioned in the books. **


	27. Chapter 26: Heart of Glass

**Warning: This chapter contains M/M and Mature and Graphic Content. Don't like it, don't read it, thank you. **

**Some text has been used from Book 6.**

***I made some changes throughout the last few chapters with dates, I had gotten mixed up before but I corrected them. Hermione's birthday is on Thursday, not Friday.**

* * *

**Chapter 26: Heart of Glass**

Severus had never known he could feel this content. He had never known how simple it was to allow yourself to be happy when you had someone to be happy with. For the first time in many years his spirits were high and he had such a liveliness about him. It overtook him, surrounded him and became him. He permitted Harry to do this to him, to affect him so, he wanted it, he welcomed it and it merged within him, within his skin, within his veins and his bones, his soul, his very being. It took part of him and he was surprised how well he adapted to it, how unafraid he was, how eager he was and how careful he could be with Harry.

Harry had a hold on him; he pulled at him, constricted him and shed light on what he was blind to see. Severus saw Harry and it was such a challenge to control his actions, to control his desires, his needs. It was almost instinctive, automatic, natural because they were so true to each other, trusting, uncovered and authentic and they existed as a part of one another, Severus knew this and he wondered greatly if Harry knew it as well. He did not know what kind of person he was, what kind of person he had become but it hardly concerned him. Severus was done with worrying over it, it had happened and there was nothing more to clarify about it, there was no need to label it anything else than what it was. Severus was in a relationship and it was barely beginning and all he cared for was giving it as much time as it needed.

But it was a challenge, a very difficult challenge to control his actions against Harry. Whenever he would kiss the boy his body would seem to be almost inebriated, intoxicated and he would lose his senses and it was quite unlike him to do such a thing and he was not used to it. He wanted to do so much more than what his better judgment restricted. Severus did not know how far he could go with Harry, he honestly had no idea what the boy had done with others before this however it seemed like Harry was inexperienced and that gave him such an excitement that it caught him off guard at times. He had seen the boy kissing that Chang girl in his memories and it bothered him to remember it but he did not know how far Harry had gotten in that relationship and he knew it would be awkward to ask the boy. Perhaps it would come up one way or another.

Severus was cautious about all of this, about Harry and him. He trained his mind every night to focus on keeping these certain memories of the boy locked in their own space so he would be more than ready when he had to empty his mind if the Dark Lord were to ever summon him. He couldn't help but wonder, to his discomfort, when he would be called again and he found himself in the late hours of the night in suspense of it but he implored that it would not happen any time soon. He had only one thing to focus on at the moment and that was to teach Harry how to use nonverbal spells efficiently.

He wanted to help the boy get his voice back, he wanted to provide for Harry and to be another outlet for his emotions, for his thoughts and fears, for anything really, he just wanted to offer any servitude for the boy. Severus desired to put the boy at ease. He had deeper desires of course and he was ready and willing however he knew he couldn't just act on those profound desires. It was a certain relief that he had gotten Harry to open up about his grief and he had made sure to listen and comfort Harry and to give him reassurance. He had never done this before, he had never tried to be this way before and he wondered if he had any kind of skill for it.

All of it gave him such a content; a settlement within his body, he was finally able to rest, to relax his senses and just live in the day. He worked expertly at all the tasks that needed to be done. He hurried with them so they were out of the way. He graded essays, exams, he worked on the potions Madame Pomfrey needed to stock and he took the time to investigate his House and give a insensitive lecture on the kind of behavior he would tolerate from his House and he was satisfied with their frightened reactions.

At dinner that Monday evening he ate quickly and noticed that Harry was eating quickly as well. He watched his two friends, the Granger girl and the Weasley boy look at him with somewhat confused expressions and he found it amusing. He would need to make sure that Harry slowed down and tried to act normal. He could understand his anticipation, Severus felt it as well and once again he wasn't used to such a feeling. Severus changed up their lesson plan that night in the Room of Requirement. They had a formal duel against one another and the boy's nervousness hindered him.

Severus wasn't ruthless however. With ease he talked the boy through the techniques he should use to quickly defeat his opponent by disarming them. He explained the best way to overwhelm and bombard your opponent with a quick barrage of defensive spells and when their attentiveness was disarrayed it would be simple to disarm them in which he demonstrated by disarming Harry who looked impressed and surprised. When he was sure that the boy was getting better at casting spells quicker and when Harry seemed tired enough he ended their lesson and they headed back to his office and instead of having their tea in his office Severus took the boy to his personal quarters once again.

Their bodies were close together and much like the day before he took pleasure in kissing those lips for minutes on end leaving the boy breathless and those cheeks as red as can be. It was difficult to stop himself; he felt as if he had to kiss as much of Harry's body as possible. He had taken off Harry's school robe himself and his own robes, throwing them together over the couch. He could feel the boy trembling softly. His hands took their time with moving about Harry's chest. He could feel the warmth there, the muscle and skin through the boy's cardigan and uniform shirt. His eyes fell over that tie and he remembered when he had taken that tie off and unbuttoned that shirt.

He had seen the boy without a shirt before but it was just a memory. He wanted to see it clearly now but it wasn't the right time for such things. He settled instead for more kissing, deeply and it sent such pleasure through his body when he bit ever so softly on Harry's bottom lip and the boy had gasped lightly. Severus could almost feel that Harry himself was holding his eagerness back or perhaps the boy was much too shy and apprehensive to do much of anything else. He wanted to feel those hands upon him, however small they were, he wanted to know what it felt like to be touched, he desired the contact, he was enthusiastic to know how their bodies would feel together and it was almost a devilish need. Severus had to keep his mind from wondering, from imagining such scenes; he had to stop himself from picturing Harry underneath him, looking up at him with those eyes ablaze with light and longing.

Their time together ended all too soon and he made sure to let Harry know of their next meeting. Even if the boy already knew about their appointments he didn't want Harry to forget. Perhaps he was moving this along too quickly but he didn't know how long he would be able to hold himself back and this was beginning to worry him. He wished to take Harry out more but it was unfeasible because of their schedules and the risks. Severus had to be a teacher and Harry had to be a student. If Harry wasn't ready to do more intimate things with him then Severus would never force it upon him, he needed to be patient however he was never particularly good at being patient but for Harry, it had to be worth it.

* * *

Harry had taken a cold shower that Tuesday morning. He had another rather personal dream involving Snape. They had only been kissing but in the dream Snape had pushed him down rather swiftly on the couch and kept kissing Harry with much passion and those hands had began to unbutton his uniform shirt and it was enough to make Harry's body react in his sleep so a cold shower was what Harry had settled with because if he had resorted to the other option he probably wouldn't be able to look Snape in the eyes that day.

It was still raining and very windy out as he dressed into his uniform, buttoning up his cardigan and putting his Gryffindor robe on. Ron was barely getting ready and Harry grabbed up his school bag and headed down to the common room to wait with Hermione. He took the time to review her vampire notes since they had their exam today. Harry watched Dean and Ginny leave the common room together and Hermione made a face as Lavender Brown left behind them.

When Ron joined them they headed off to breakfast in the Great Hall. Harry watched the rain as he ate his cereal and toast and with a quick glance at the Staff table he saw Snape was sitting there and those black eyes found his own and Harry felt the blush creep up into his cheeks and he remembered what the man had done to him last night. When Snape had bitten his lip, even though it had been gentle, it had made Harry shiver and he had to do his best to control his hormones. His body felt tingly still from last night and it worried him. How could he stop himself from getting stimulated every time Snape was kissing him and now he had moved on to touching Harry? He didn't know how Snape would react if that had ever happened to Harry while they were doing such things. He couldn't help but think if they would ever do more intimate things with each other but every time that would come into Harry's mind he would flush furiously.

He thought it best at that moment when his eyes looked away from Snape's stare that he would be fine, hopefully, if Snape ever led them in that direction. He was 16 and he knew there had to be boys his age that snuck off with their girlfriends to do those kinds of things. Harry felt a bit immature as he sat there. Snape was a grown man who most likely was far more experienced than himself. He felt foolish because what if he made a _fool_ of himself in front of Snape? He had no idea how to act in those sorts of situations.

_Why am I thinking about this now? _Harry begged in his head.

"Harry, are you done eating? We'll be late for Herbology," Hermione's voice reached him.

Harry quickly nodded and grabbed up his school bag. Harry walked in the small group of Gryffindors all trudging through the wet grounds and vegetable garden toward the greenhouses. The wind stung his eyes even with his glasses on and he had to keep blinking. Everyone had their hoods of their cloaks up to keep themselves dry but by the time they reached the greenhouses Harry's robes were practically soaked. He joined his classmates as they all took their rain washed robes off and hung them on the many hooks by the door.

They walked over to their Snargaluff stump and put on their protective goggles and gloves. Their class assignment for today was to extract and juice the pods from the gnarled stump. They all looked at each other apprehensively and basically at the same time as the rest of the groups they dived at the Snargaluff plant between them. The thing sprang to life immediately; long, prickly bramble like vines flew out from the top of the stump and whipped thought the air. Harry barely avoided a few as they had tried to seize his goggles and Ron was beating back the tentacles with a pair of secateurs as they had tangled themselves in Hermione's hair.

As Harry did his best to hold a few back a long with Ron, Hermione bravely stuck her arm into the hole and it closed like a trap around her elbow. Harry and Ron tugged and wrenched the vines forcing the hole to open again and Hermione was able to free her arm. She held the pulsating green pod that was the size of a grapefruit in her hand. Harry, slightly out of breath, handed her the bowl to put it in. The vines had, at once, shot back inside and the plant had turned back into a gnarled stump. Harry grimaced as she put the pod into the bowl. The whole greenhouse was filled with the sounds of students battling against their own stumps.

"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out; they're best when they're fresh!" Professor Sprout called from the middle of the class.

Harry looked to Ron who sighed and bent over the bowl and grabbed the pulsating pod and began to squash it as hard as he could.

"Why did I have to pass this O.W.L.?" Ron muttered and Harry found it difficult to stop from grinning at the face the boy was making. The pod was quite resilient and Ron had resorted to using a trowel to break it open.

"You need to puncture it with something sharp," Hermione said as she had been flipping through the pages of _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World_ to find the correct way to juice Snargaluff pods. Ron sighed as he began to look for a small knife on the table and Harry straightened his goggles with Hermione and they dived again upon the stump to retrieve another pod.

As he wrestled with a thorny vine he couldn't help but think again of how it felt to be amongst his friends knowing what he and Snape were. It was quite easy to act like nothing was happening and to be his usual self but his mind felt somewhat strained as if it were trying to juggle too many things at once. He had questions; he knew he did, because he had no idea what it was like to be in a relationship and for some reason he thought that perhaps Hermione could give him some advice. Maybe he could ask her discretely and not say who the person was. He knew she wouldn't pressure him to tell her who it was. Harry thought he might just try it as he was freeing Hermione's arm again and her hand emerged holding another Snargaluff pod.

"That's disgusting," Ron said and Harry flinched but quickly realized why Ron had made the remark as Ron had managed to burst the first pod open so that the bowl was full of tubers wriggling like pale green worms.

Harry's heart had jumped and was now racing somewhat in his chest. He was scared, he knew, because he expected his friends to react badly to his attraction to their Potions Master and he didn't want to lose his two best friends but he didn't want to lose Snape either; he had no clue of what he should do but just continue to keep it a secret no matter how many questions he needed answering.

When class was over Harry's hands pained him and he had a few scratches a long his neck but it wasn't as bad as Neville who was now sporting a bloody lip and nasty scratches on the side of his face. They all did their best to hurry back to the castle through the harsh rain. Harry cast a drying charm on his uniform and robes as they sat in the Great Hall for their break. His hair was wet. Hermione was fixing her hair a long with Ron trying to dry his wet socks in his shoes. It was then as Harry was making sure his school bag wasn't wet that a Hufflepuff girl about his height, with long, dark brown hair came up to him slowly.

"Hi Harry," she greeted him.

Harry looked up quickly, his eyes meeting the girl's brown ones. Harry waved slightly and she held out her hand and Harry shook it nervously.

"I'm Elisa," the Hufflepuff girl said and he was surprised as she signed her greeting as well.

Harry stiffened and he suddenly was aware of what this was and he quickly glanced at Hermione who gave him a stern look as she held a small pink mirror in front of her. Harry forced his eyes to look at the girl named Elisa's face and he signed weakly:

"Hi Elisa, can I help you with something?"

"Well," her voice was soft, nervous and somewhat high. "I…was just wondering…I mean, I really like you Harry…I know you don't know me very well but…I was just wondering if maybe I could be your girlfriend?"

A few people had gone silent around him in the Hall and he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He wished he could be invisible and once again he was annoyed that Hermione had been right. The Hufflepuff girl was pretty, Harry could realize this easily and he knew what he had to do next and he hated it. He almost flinched when she sat next to him and smiled sweetly. Harry wished the bell would ring, maybe he would be able to escape that way but an uncomfortable moment passed and he gathered up his nerve and he signed, looking apologetic:

"Elisa…you're…pretty and everything…but I…I'm not ready to be in a relationship right now…I'm sorry…"

Elisa's face had been hopeful but it quickly fell into one of disappointment as she was still trying to smile at him and Harry felt like a horrible person as she said quickly:

"Ok, well…that's ok. If you change your mind…I'll see you Harry."

Harry nodded as she stood up and hurried off back to the Hufflepuff table and he looked confusingly at the scene that took place there with the girl running back to her group of friends who were now giggling all together and smiling. He would never understand girls. Harry faced forward once more towards Ron and Hermione and Ron was gawking at him.

"What?" Harry signed.

"Harry, she was pretty and she fancied you!" Ron said. "Why didn't you say yes?"

Harry was about to reply but Hermione said hotly:

"Oh please, Ronald, just because she was pretty doesn't mean Harry's going to jump at the chance to be in a relationship."

"Well, he could get to know the girl at least, I mean, I know Harry's rubbish with girls but that's what dating is for, right? To get experience…"

"Hey," Harry signed harshly. "You're rubbish with girls too."

"I'm better than you at it!" Ron snapped.

"Really? And why are you so eager to find me a date? It's none of your business," Harry signed as he was growing agitated now.

"Stop it you two," Hermione snapped at them.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron who was glaring at him as well. He didn't know why he was angry at the boy; maybe it was because Ron was the clueless one or maybe it was because he had insulted Harry's ability to be around those who fancied him when he was already feeling inadequate. Before Harry could tell Ron anything else the bell rang and Harry gruffly grabbed up his school bag and Gryffindor robe and walked in front of Hermione and Ron up to the third floor for Defense class.

Professor Royle, who came up to them whistling some sort of tune, smiled at them all and opened the classroom door and they filed in. Harry sat next to Ron, his annoyance leaving him quickly and Ron gave him a sheepish look. Royle took off his dark navy blue robes and tossed them on his desk. The man wore a dark red vest with black buttons and a white dress shirt underneath and black slacks. Harry smirked as Parvarti gave the man a sort of dreamy look. Royle tapped the stack of papers on his desk and they flew out to everyone.

"You have an hour to take the exam, good luck," Royle said.

Harry, along with the rest of the class, took out his quill and ink bottle and realized just how lazy Royle could be since the exam was multiple choice with only one short answer question at the end of the back of the page. Harry heard Hermione's tiny breath of irritation and Harry knew she had expected their exam to be much like what Snape would have given them.

Harry took his time as he looked over the questions. A few were about how the laws for vampires had been created and passed through the Ministry of Magic, one asked how to kill a vampire, what were the characteristics of a vampire, how does a human turn into vampire and a few questions were on known famous vampires in history and what were they famous for. The short answer question was: In your own opinion why are vampires considered to be not a threat to the wizarding world?

When Harry was finished he waited idly at his desk for a half an hour while Royle was busy sitting at his desk with those boots propped upon it and reading _Confronting the Faceless_ and he would raise an eyebrow now and again as his eyes traveled along the pages. Harry wondered what kind of student had Royle been when he attended Hogwarts. After the hour was up Harry wasn't surprised when Royle had them all switch their exam papers with the person sitting next to them so they could go over the answers. He knew this was just an easier way to grade papers. Royle finished the class with a discussion on vampires and another one of his slide shows.

"Your homework is to read chapter eight on Dementors," Royle announced as he put the bag of candy away and they were dismissed.

Harry pocketed his candy that had been given to him by Hermione in his robes.

"Ah, Potter, can I speak to you for a moment," Royle said as he came up to his desk and Harry had grabbed up his book bag. He looked to Ron and Hermione.

"We'll wait outside for you mate," Ron said and Harry nodded and the two left the classroom. Royle was standing before him and Harry waited for whatever the man had to tell him now.

"Are you alright?" Royle asked and Harry was surprised at his tone; it sounded serious. He guessed he was referring to what happened with him and Malfoy and he nodded in reply.

"I just had to ask," Professor Royle said and he put his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry that they locked you in there, especially since you can't exactly, you know."

Harry was trying to understand the man's expression. It was somewhat worried and a bit harsh. Harry found it strange to stand before this man because of what he knew about him.

"Thank you," Harry signed. "I mean, I never got the chance to thank you for letting me out of there."

"Just watch your back from now on," Royle said and grinned slightly. "I didn't expect someone like you to be able to punch like that."

Harry raised his eyebrows somewhat at the man's comment.

"Good for you, now get going," Royle said and went back to his desk.

Harry shook his head a bit as he walked out of the classroom and started to make his way with Ron and Hermione to the Great Hall for lunch.

"I studied for hours!" Hermione said fiercely. "I can't believe half of the things I read weren't even on the exam, I was expecting to go into complete detail on the classification of vampires as _beings_ and how merpeople and centaurs don't want to be associated with them."

"Leave it Hermione," Ron yawned out. "I can't believe I only missed two questions."

Harry grinned lightly as he walked alongside his friends but once again felt himself go rigid as a girl was walking up to him with a determined look on her face. She was a 6th Year Ravenclaw and a bit taller than Harry and had short black hair and hazel eyes. She came right up to Harry who stopped short and Hermione and Ron kept walking and Harry heard Ron say:

"He better say yes this time."

"Hello Harry," she said happily.

Harry sort of recognized the girl as one of Cho's friends and he smiled weakly and signed:

"Hi."

"You probably don't know my name, it's Abbie," the Ravenclaw girl said.

And the conversation went much like the one with the Hufflepuff girl. Abbie asked Harry to be her boyfriend and Harry, feeling quite nervous, let her down easy with much of the same excuse he gave Eliza or Elisa or whatever her name was. Her reaction was much the same as the Hufflepuff girl's and Harry hung his head as he walked to the Great Hall and he could feel plenty of eyes on him as he hurried to the Gryffindor table.

Harry sat down and before Ron could make a remark he signed:

"Leave it."

Ron remained silent and put on a gruff look. Harry's appetite wasn't what it had been as he barely touched his salad and sandwich. He hadn't fully believed Hermione when she had warned him that girls would start approaching him and if this kept up he wouldn't know what to do. He didn't like the idea of rejecting anyone but it wasn't as if he could say yes to anyone. Harry was glad to get away from the stares when it was time for Transfiguration which went by quite fast since all they did was take more notes and Harry could barely pay attention as he wound up drawing in his notebook halfway through the class as Hermione's hand kept shooting up in the air every few minutes.

At dinner Harry ate much slower this time and to his surprise he wound up conversing quite a bit with Neville, Seamus, the Creevey brothers, Parvarti, Katie Bell, Ron and Hermione and their table was the loudest that night. Harry could hardly keep up with Seamus's comedy and he admired how they could all understand his signing and Harry was glad to teach them how to come up with signs to refer to each other's names. It was light hearted all around the Hall despite the weather and Harry's eyes found Snape's own and once again they looked away at the exact same time.

In the Room of Requirement that night he and Snape wound up only practicing for an hour or so. Harry had mentioned to Snape about the wooden practice dummies they had used when he taught Dumbledore's Army so they practiced on those together. And it was different to have the man stand beside him instead of in front of him and cast spells nonverbally to teach Harry just how fast and powerful he was supposed to be able to cast his defensive spells when their lessons were done. Snape had stood behind him a few times, holding his right wrist to make sure he used the proper wand movements and Harry hadn't been able to stop his heart from speeding up.

He felt slightly in the wrong knowing his detentions weren't really detentions but Snape was the one in charge and Harry couldn't complain as they had made their way to the dungeons. He was almost used to the fact that they never stayed in the man's office and just went to his personal quarters. As soon as Snape closed the door he took Harry's bag and placed it down by the coat hanger and Harry felt those hands as Snape took off Harry's Gryffindor robe quickly and hung it up. From behind him Snape's arms wrapped themselves around Harry's waist and Harry almost shuddered.

"Let's warm you up by the fire," Snape's voice was right by his ear and Harry couldn't believe what that voice did to him.

Snape came away and took Harry by the hand and led him to the couch. He watched as the man took off his outer robe and laid it over the couch and he sat down and Harry sat down close to him.

"I missed you," Snape spoke softly.

Harry felt himself blush and Snape was already leaning in and he held his breath when those warm lips met his own and the man was quick to deepen the kiss and Harry tasted something fruity as that tongue worked around against his own and he felt hungry for it. He felt as if his brain was being numbed. Harry closed his eyes slowly and Snape's hand was on his right hip, firmly and the fire was taking the cold away from Harry's body.

"May I take your cardigan off?" Snape asked as soon as his lips parted from Harry's.

Harry opened his eyes and bit his lip somewhat as he was nervous but he nodded. Those slender and swift fingers undid the cardigan's buttons easily and Harry let the man take the garment off and it fell behind Harry. He watched as Snape's dark eyes traveled up and down his body and that face looked so composed, so intimidating and the fire made shadows over the man's features. Harry felt self-conscious all of a sudden but Snape's hands were upon his chest now, slowly moving up and down and spreading out to feel the muscle and the slight bumps of his rib cage. Harry's hands pressed into the couch and he felt almost feverish and he watched Snape's eyes blink slowly and Harry's own eyes fell upon those lips that drew closer and closer until the man was kissing him again.

He didn't know what to do when Snape kept leaning forward, his hands pushing softly against him and his back was on the couch now but Harry kept kissing and he didn't know how he had brought his legs up on the couch but now Snape was above him from what he could tell because his eyes were shut tight. Snape wasn't pulling away like he had done before and Harry counted the seconds in his hazy mind and he realized the heat at the bottom of his stomach had appeared and Snape's left hand was upon his chest, his right feeling up his left leg starting from his knee, up his thigh and to his hip and Harry trembled as desire rushed through his body, through his very veins and the heat was rising and he wasn't breathing.

It was when Snape's hand came away from his hip and began to pull his white dress shirt that was tucked into to uniform trousers that Harry was aware of the tightness in his pants. He didn't know when it had happened but his body stiffened and his hands gripped at the couch somewhat. Snape had pulled the shirt free enough and that hot hand came under his shirt. Harry's eyes widened when the sensation seemed to shock his entire self when that hand was touching lightly against the flesh of his trembling stomach and his muscles tensed and he was growing ever so embarrassed, mortified because he knew he could feel his trousers getting tighter by the second.

He gasped when Snape's body came flush with his own and his hands, without meaning to, came up from his sides and to Snape's chest and he pushed up, their lips parting and Harry's eyes met the deep pools of black that seemed to be glazed over with an emotion Harry didn't know of until they were fully open and Snape, who sounded quite breathless, spoke quickly:

"I am very sorry, I…" Snape started to lift himself from Harry and Harry panicked and quickly grabbed the man's shoulders and begged in his mind that Snape wouldn't look down. Harry's cheeks were feverish, his lips glistening; the pink color in them dark from all their kissing and his whole body was trembling.

"Harry, are you alright?" Snape asked gently. "I apologize…I…really don't know what came over me."

Harry had no clue of what to do and Snape was pushing himself up from him again but Harry held on to those shoulders, practically gripping the fabric of the coat.

"Harry…what's the matter?" Snape asked.

It was as if he was petrified there, his eyes slightly wide, searching the man's somewhat confused expression. A part of him wanted to keep kissing the man, allowing Snape to touch him wherever he wanted but he knew that was just his hormones going crazy because the other part of him knew he was probably not ready or was just overly embarrassed by the thought of the man feeling him in that sort of way. He had no idea of what Snape would think. He thought quickly and finally he brought his hands away from the man and swiftly slid himself back from under Snape and sat up and brought his knees to his chest quickly, hoping that was enough to cover his problem which seemed to hurt in this position.

Snape sat up straight, his hands at his sides upon the couch and Harry could see the soft color in the man's own face and he admired it. The man's eyes glistened from the light of the fire and the room was somewhat dark now, the lantern-like lamp was dimly lit. The fire cast a warm glow over them. There was silence for a moment and Harry's senses were calming down.

"I'm sorry…if I scared you…" Snape sounded defeated somehow. Harry felt slightly guilty.

"It's…not that," Harry signed and was completely embarrassed. "I…my body…you know…because you were touching me like that…" Harry brought his eyes up as he had been staring at his uniform shoes the entire time because he couldn't bear to look the man in the eyes.

Snape, however, put on a look of recognition and quickly replied:

"Oh."

Harry felt his cheeks grow even hotter and he looked away.

"I'm…embarrassed as you can tell…" Harry signed.

"There's no need to be embarrassed Harry," Snape said gently and if Harry wasn't mistaken the man sounded somewhat amused. "It's attractive but I do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable."

"I…wasn't uncomfortable," Harry signed taking a quick glance at Snape. "I mean…I like it when you touch me, it feels really good…I'm just…"

Snape's eyes gleamed as he looked at him carefully. Harry looked over the man's form and shivered slightly. Snape always just looked so serene, so collected and Harry envied him.

"I won't pressure you…" Snape said and it was almost a whisper. "But I won't lie…I want to do things to you…and it's quite difficult to stop myself…"

Harry held his breath. He really couldn't explain it to himself of how that velvet-like voice made him feel almost hypnotized and made his heart quiver. Snape had such an advantage it seemed and Harry truly felt insufficient despite what the man had said.

"It's very tempting…when you look like that," Snape said ever so softly, it was seductive even if the man looked so composed, Harry hung on to every word.

However, Snape stood up and said:

"Would you like something to drink?"

Harry simply nodded.

"I'll be right back."

Harry watched the man walk away and he honestly couldn't believe how everything Snape did was so interesting to his eyes, his senses and he flushed with humiliation because he knew this would be labeled as "checking someone out". He was hopeless.

Snape returned with a bottle of chilled Butterbeer and opened it with a tap of his wand and handed it to Harry.

"Are you alright now?" Snape asked as Harry drank the cold beverage.

Thankfully he was and he turned himself on the couch and brought his legs away, planting his feet upon the stoned floor. He somehow felt tired and he really couldn't look at the man who was standing by the glass table.

"Harry, there's _nothing_ to be embarrassed about, now come with me," Snape said and he took Harry's left hand gently and Harry got up from the couch and followed Snape on shaky legs up the few steps and to his left to the dim hallway and they passed a door and when they came to the second door to Harry's left Snape opened it and let go of his hand.

He followed the man into the room which lit itself up instantly and Harry looked up to see another one of the lantern-like lamps on the ceiling. The room was simple, a bit large and as Harry looked around he realized quickly that this was Snape's personal potions lab. To his left there was a large black work table with a few burners and there were many black shelves along the walls holding much the same objects that were in Snape's office: jars of odd things, labeled bottles, neatly stacked boxes, and there were many sizes of cauldrons lined up against the left wall and a few instruments Harry had no idea what they were, there were a few books here and there and upon one shelf there were different sized hourglasses and there were a few stools around the workbench.

There was one thing in the room that didn't quite belong. It was a black piano set up against the wall to Harry's right. It looked very polished and new. Now Harry didn't know anything about pianos but he was certain it wasn't a grand piano because those were much bigger. Snape had walked over to the piano and Harry followed and the man sat down on the black wooden bench and gestured for Harry to sit next to him. Harry sat down a bit nervously and held his Butterbeer as he watched the man open the piano's fall to reveal the bright white and black keys. Despite how refined the man was Harry didn't think Snape would be the kind of person to like music but once more he was full of surprises.

"I thought it would be nice to do something…different," Snape said as he turned to look at Harry.

Harry stared into those calm black eyes; his fingers had grown cold from holding the bottle that was set lightly on his thigh. He couldn't help but wonder what he looked like to Snape; what Snape was thinking of when he would look at him. He could see his reflection in those dark eyes and once again he really was lost in the moment because he was with Snape. It was then that Snape's attention moved back to the piano and he positioned those slender fingers gently upon the keys and Harry's eyes broadened as Snape began playing and the whole room seemed to fill up with the wonderful and slow tune.

It was stunning really to watch the man play the piano because Harry had never expected it, never believed it and it was truly difficult to believe it was happening. Surely, surely Snape would never be the type of person to put on such a display but Harry watched ever so carefully, not even breathing as those eyes were steady upon those keys and his hands that seemed to move with such a grace about the white and black. And the sounds put such new sensations through his body and the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him to believe it was real was the chill from the glass bottle. He didn't even realize he was smiling.

Snape; Harry just couldn't keep up with how much he surprised him and as the man played the lovely piece of music that Harry recognized he was overwhelmed by just how much there was to Snape. It was an elegant thing, patient and true and he could envy it but he chose to respect it instead. So Snape hadn't been just a bitter man, a tyrant, a man who he had once hated, no, he was a gentleman, a good cook, an intellectual, and perhaps an instrumentalist. He felt privileged to be the one to realize these things. His thoughts were silent and his heart was calm when Snape finished playing the piece. The last small echoes of the rhythmic music died and Harry was left to stare at the man whose eyes were still upon his hands and those fingers were lightly upon the shined keys. Snape moved his hands to rest on his knees and he turned to Harry.

"I've heard that song before," Harry signed and he felt breathless somehow.

"_What a Wonderful World_...I used to hear it when I was a child…It's quite a simple piece…" Snape's voice sounded slightly unsure or nervous, Harry really couldn't tell.

"It was good…really good," Harry signed quickly. "When…did you learn how to play the piano?"

Snape's eyes turned away from Harry and fell upon the keys.

"Years ago," Snape said in a slight whisper. "It was…just something different…"

Harry sat as still as he could. It was rare to hear Snape talk about himself and Harry couldn't help but wonder about all the things he was missing to Snape, all the pieces and he had to admit he wanted to know but he just didn't believe he was allowed to know and it confused him. Harry felt his hand move before he could stop it and it fell lightly upon Snape's right hand and he knew his body was trembling very softly. He had many questions but they would always just be questions but that was fine because all he really cared about was just being by this man's side and this confused him even more.

Snape's eyes met his own and Harry smiled and the man put on one of his own smiles despite how just it was.

"I can teach you if you'd like," Snape said kindly.

"I'm…too clumsy," Harry signed, his hand leaving Snape's own.

"Perhaps," Snape said and Harry laughed lightly.

"Will you play again please?" Harry signed.

Snape said nothing but only moved his hands back upon the keys and Harry waited and was once again lost in the soft and high tones, the deep vibrations and the shine on the man's dress shoes that were upon the pedals of the piano. He watched Snape's body, how straight his back was, how those hands and fingers moved and the melody was light and somewhat sorrowful and building. Harry forgot where he was, who he was and he just listened as his eyes traveled all over the man and he caught their reflection in the piano's panel. It wasn't clear like a mirror and despite his inadequacy, it looked right to him and something caressed the deep ache in his chest, once against living beside it.

It had been an hour or two, Harry didn't know, with Snape playing different pieces and encouraging Harry to try but Harry's hands were too nervous and badly coordinated but Snape was quite patient and seemed to enjoy Harry's inability to play the instrument. He would guide Harry's hands softly or play with one hand on the side of the keyboard while Harry tried on the other. Snape didn't go into great detail which Harry was thankful for because he doubted he'd be able to keep up with the instructions. It was just simple, enjoyable, and he couldn't understand how much they had changed together.

Harry decided against telling Snape about how Ms. Gardiner had started their Occlumency lessons by playing a piano piece on her radio since the man obviously disliked her. But he sat there in peace and he wasn't used to it, to feeling peaceful and when the echoes died again in the room, Harry barely aware that this was a potions lab anymore, Snape turned to him and without a word his hands came to rest around his waist and the man was kissing him deeply. Harry had to grip the bottle of Butterbeer or it would have slid out from his fingers. Snape's hands came to hold the sides of his face and those fingertips were warm and when they parted Harry's heart was rhythmic, like the deeper sounds the piano made.

"I'm afraid your detention was over long ago," Snape said lightly.

"I didn't notice…" Harry signed, the bottle held between his thighs and it wasn't cold anymore.

"And I do not wish for you go but you must," Snape said and his hands came away and Harry took up the bottle and they left the room, the piano was left open.

* * *

"Why'd Snape keep you so long?" Ron asked.

"I had my lessons first and then I had to clean a whole bunch of cauldrons and you know Snape, he's efficient," Harry signed, having already made up the lie on his way back to Gryffindor Tower with Snape. Harry had made sure to tuck his shirt back in and put his cardigan back on and robes.

Ron didn't say anything. The two of them were sitting on the couch by the fire. Hermione was still in the library working late on homework.

"Did you order Hermione's present?" Harry signed quickly.

"Yeah," Ron said.

"What did you get her?" Harry signed.

"A scarf…" Ron answered.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He had expected Ron to be a bit more sentimental; maybe a necklace or earrings for the girl but a scarf? Ron really was impractical.

"It's a nice scarf," Ron muttered.

Harry sighed. He was quite sleepy from having listened to all those soft piano pieces that Snape had played. The rain had lessened but the wind shook the windows. He closed his eyes and could faintly hear Dean and Ginny (which explained Ron's bad mood) playing wizard's chess in the background, their flirty talk was a bit annoying. When Hermione returned Harry decided to turn in. He lay in bed that night, the memory of those piano pieces putting him to sleep in moments.

* * *

Despite the cold, misty morning that Harry had woken up to the next day he was in a good mood and he showered and dressed in his uniform and woke Ron up by tugging the boy's blankets away from him which caused Ron to fall out of bed somewhat but it got him up and Harry headed down to the common room where he met Hermione and they walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. His good mood however, was dampened when, much to his disbelief, he was met with another hopeful girl who was a 4th Year Gryffindor. She had come up to him when he was about done with breakfast and Ron had barely come down to eat.

She had shoulder length light brown hair and had blue eyes and was shorter than Harry. Harry honestly did not know what was going on with these girls but he was becoming frustrated because he hated rejecting them, it made him feel awful but despite her pretty eyes and long eyelashes and glossed lips and noticeable curves Harry let her down quickly, having no desire to further the conversation. Once again people around him had gone silent and he felt his cheeks burning as he watched the girl hurry off to join her giggling group of friends. Harry briefly caught the sudden look Ginny was giving him before a velvety voice made him jump:

"Mr. Potter."

Harry turned around swiftly upon the bench and looked up into those black eyes. He didn't know why Snape's face looked rather irritated. Snape spoke again:

"Are you ready? I am to escort you to your…session."

Ron and Hermione had been looking at Snape the entire time as well as many other Gryffindors who all looked a bit worried. Harry was quick to nod in reply and he grabbed up his school bag and, almost catching his foot on the bench, clambered out of his seat. He walked in silence a long Snape who hadn't said anything more. Harry walked quickly as Snape seemed to be in a hurry and the expression on his face was tight, still annoyed. It wasn't until they reached the stoned gargoyle that Snape faced him.

"Stay behind after my class is over, Potter," Snape said quickly and then looked up at the statue. "Acid Pops." Then the man left and Harry was confused as he watched those black robes billow behind Snape. He tried to think if he had done something wrong but couldn't really think of anything but he put it out of his mind as the stairs led him up to the Headmaster's office. When he entered the office he was surprised to see Professor Dumbledore who was speaking jovially to Ms. Gardiner who stood there in dark green robes and a long white coat and light brown heels. Her hair was down and wavy and she was smiling as Professor Dumbledore was saying:

"I'll always remember your determination, Sophia."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Ms. Gardiner said lightly.

"Oh, Harry, there you are," Professor Dumbledore greeted him as he walked slowly forward feeling as if he should have knocked first. Dumbledore walked over to him and placed his good hand on Harry's shoulder and said:

"I'd best be off," he turned to Sophia. "I hope you have a wonderful day."

Harry watched Dumbledore leave and then faced Ms. Gardiner who was smiling still.

"Good morning, Harry," Ms. Gardiner greeted him.

It was then that his heart began to race and he felt nervous. A lot had happened in the past week and there wasn't any possible way he could explain to Ms. Gardiner how him and Snape had gotten together, no, it wasn't going to happen even if she said that he could tell her anything. It needed to be kept secret, not only for the sake of his emotions but for the safety of Snape's position, yes, that was the most important thing and he knew the man was probably aware of the situation and how it could be dangerous so he needed to be smart.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner said.

"Yeah, just spaced out, sorry," Harry signed quickly. He walked over and sat down on one of the chairs before Dumbledore's desk and Ms. Gardiner sat in the one next to it and they were facing each other.

"I heard about what happened, about your…fight," Ms. Gardiner said. "I'm sorry that boy did such a terrible thing to you, are you ok?"

"Oh I'm fine, it was…I didn't mean to get into a fight…I sort of just lost it I suppose…" Harry signed quickly.

"How were you feeling though, Harry, during those moments? Such a stress like that can be harmful to your recovery, have you talked about it with someone else?" Ms. Gardiner asked and her eyes were serious.

"I didn't really talk about it with anyone, no," Harry signed and his hands were shaking. "I guess…I was just angry, what made it worse was being locked in the storage room and I don't like small spaces…I felt trapped and I was out of it, you would have been shocked if you'd seen my face…"

Ms. Gardiner listened as her hands were folded together.

"I…haven't told anyone this before…" Harry signed as his eyes were pained slightly. "And it's only happened a few times…They're just hallucinations I guess but when I was in the storage room, waiting for someone to find me, I saw my godfather briefly…He seemed…so real standing there…but I knew it wasn't real…Is that normal?"

"Yes, Harry, it is normal when one is grieving over a loved one who has passed away, under moments of heightened emotions and stress, to imagine them there without meaning to," Ms. Gardiner said and she had taken a silver clipboard from the desk and was now writing down upon it quickly as she spoke. "Are you feeling better though? Have you had any similar moments where you are overwhelmed with stressful feelings or felt as if you needed to alleviate your emotions?"

Harry thought for a moment. He hadn't felt anything like what he had felt in those moments when he had been beating Malfoy's face in so he shook his head and signed:

"No, I've been ok…Snape…" He held his breath because his hands finger spelled Snape on their own as he had been thinking of how much the man had helped him since they had gotten together.

"Yes?" Ms. Gardiner said and her red lipstick was shimmering lightly.

"He's been…the same, you know, nice and helpful," Harry signed and he couldn't look her in the eyes no matter how much he tried to. "You know, my friends, Ron and Hermione," Harry was quick to sign to change the subject away from Snape, "we talked about my godfather for a little bit and it was the first time we talked about it together…it was hard but it was…better…"

"Well that's very good Harry," Ms. Gardiner said with a small smile. "That's a step forward in the right direction, I'm happy you were able to accomplish that."

Harry nodded as he stared at his hands upon his lap.

"Now, how about your dreams, have you been having those same dreams still?" Ms. Gardiner asked after she made more notes on her clipboard.

Harry felt the slight heat rise into his face as he remembered the kind of dreams he kept having of Snape lately. He was quick to compose himself and sign:

"I had a nightmare, well of a memory, of when my godfather was killed…" Harry signed. "I…I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed with school and everything so I…feel as if I'm not trying hard enough to get my voice back…"

"Well Harry, it's ok to feel that way when you have so much to do, I understand the pressure you are feeling," Ms. Gardiner replied softly. "It's ok, you're taking this at your own pace, what I recommend is trying to meditate more, reflect more on your feelings and perhaps another list of your worries and fears and doubts is in order, you remember that exercise correct?"

Harry nodded quickly as he recalled when Ms. Gardiner had set the list he had made aflame that day, which seemed long ago, in her office.

"Also Harry, have you found anything lately that you like doing, I'm sure you're playing Quidditch again right?" Ms. Gardiner said after she had written something down once more.

"Well I've been drawing, just here and there, I really like it actually," Harry signed. "I have Quidditch practice tomorrow."

"That's good, you need things in your day that keep you uplifted and just happy," Ms. Gardiner said with a kind smile.

Harry knew there were plenty of other things he did during his day that made him happy but he couldn't tell Ms. Gardiner those things. He shouldn't feel bad, even if she was his therapist, he deserved a private life, right?

"So Harry, you're ok?" she asked with her hands folded upon her clipboard and her dark green eyes were filled with light.

Harry waited and he remembered last night with Snape, sitting with the man before the piano, he had felt more than ok.

"I'm really good, thank you," Harry signed. "I'm sorry; I didn't even ask how you were." He was suddenly aware of when he had last seen her with tear filled eyes and his smile had fallen.

"It's fine, Harry, I'm alright, a bit busy but I'm very well, thank you," she said sweetly.

Harry straightened his vest somewhat and tried not to let his curiosity get the better of him.

"Well, I think we should try to practice Occlumency today, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry's heart sunk. He had forgotten all about that. He panicked for a moment before realizing he just needed to focus and clear his mind completely and definitely not think of Snape.

"Ok," Harry signed finally.

"I'll give you a moment to relax yourself, clear your head, get comfortable," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry worried for just a second before he steadied himself and closed his eyes. Everything about Snape needed to be out of his mind now and he remembered the piano music and it helped him in clearing his mind of all thought and his body of emotion and it was suddenly a relief to let everything go as he let the memory of the music wash over him. He was surprised with himself that he could do such a thing so quickly.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry nodded and he opened his eyes. She had taken out her wand and she pointed it at him and they were quick flashes that passed before him.

_He was 12 and he was facing Malfoy in their dueling lessons, Snape right behind the boy. He was 13 and he was lying to Professor Snape about how he had snuck off to Hogsmeade. He was 14 in Potions class worrying that Snape was about to poison him…_

Ms. Gardiner was sitting in front of him now and Harry had finally found her presence as she had gone quite far in this time but he had quickly pushed her out and his heart beat was a bit faster as he sat there. He had made sure to hide the intimate memories he had of Snape but he hadn't even considered that his subconscious would be filled with memories of Snape before they had both changed, of those years when Snape still hated him. It took him off guard and he realized just how much his mind was full of the man.

"You need to try to get to me sooner Harry but it was good, I was in farther this time," Ms. Gardiner said. "Shall we go again?"

Harry nodded and once again she pointed her wand at him and he had taken a deep breath.

_He was 13 and Remus Lupin was teaching him how to defend himself against dementors, he was 12 and standing beside Ron in the Forbidden Forest in the midst of thousands of spiders…_

He had found her quickly and everything went black and she swam into his vision and Ms. Gardiner was smiling at him approvingly.

"Very good, Harry, I went further and you were much quicker, I think you just need to work on your focus, you're learning quite fast," she said. "But that's all for today I think."

Harry nodded and she stood and Harry stood and Ms. Gardiner hugged him tightly.

"You just be careful, Harry," she said gently and came away. "I want you to work on meditating, alright?"

Harry nodded and smiled at her.

"I'll see you next week, have a wonderful day," she said.

"You too, thank you," Harry signed.

She gave him one last smile before before taking something silver out of her pocket, holding it tightly, and she was gone.

Harry waited for a few moments and then grabbed up his school bag and left Dumbledore's office quickly. When he had stepped away from the stone gargoyle he had not expected to collide with someone harshly and stagger backward but a strong hand grabbed his wrist before he fell. Harry looked up to see Professor Royle who seemed slightly out of breath.

"I missed her, didn't I?" the man said, letting Harry go as he had gotten his balance.

Harry thought the scene between them weird but he nodded in reply through his confusion. He couldn't help but feel that he and Royle were on a slight level of understanding even if they had only spoken a few times.

"Sir…why don't you just go to St. Mungo's?" Harry signed before he could stop himself.

Royle was looking at him as if he too realized that Harry understood the situation. The man put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks and he was chewing gum as Harry noticed.

"It's complicated…" Royle said. "I'll see you Potter."

Harry just stood as the man passed him quickly, those boots making his footsteps heavy. He had dug himself into this mystery and now he couldn't help but want to know just what had happened between these two people.

* * *

Charms had been lively that morning; the room was filled with chatter as they all practiced their review on nonverbal spells and Harry had taken the time to look over the list that Snape had made him to find the certain charm spells he was supposed to become efficient at. What agitated him was Ron and Lavender who were getting a bit close together and Harry wanted nothing more but to smack the boy. He didn't care to look at Hermione because he knew what her face would be like.

But to his surprise, when he was at lunch, he found Hermione sitting next to Cormac McLaggen. Harry instantly knew why she was hanging around the boy but he didn't exactly expect the girl to resort to such measures and he could tell Hermione didn't want to sit next to McLaggen who seemed to be talking about nothing but himself to Hermione from what Harry could pick up. He focused on his lunch but his intuition sparked up and in the corner of his eye he could see the Gryffindor girl walking over to him.

_This can't be happening…_ Harry hissed in his head. _It's not possible._

But it was possible because the 5th Year Gryffindor had come up to him, and sat next to him and her dark blond hair was up in a ponytail and she was smiling, her cheeks slightly blushing or it might have been makeup Harry didn't really care but the smell of roses and something else reached his nose and he was no longer hungry but desperate. He couldn't take much more of this; what happened to girls being shy and waiting for the guys themselves to ask them out? Harry couldn't answer that question but he could answer what this girl, her name might have been Julia, Harry wasn't listening, had asked in the very similar way as the other girls had done which was for Harry to be her boyfriend and Harry, as quick as ever, hopefully it was painless, declined.

He watched as she left looking disappointed as well as giddy and the giggling ensued at the far end of the table. He was going to start trying to eat his meals somewhere else if this kept up.

"Blimey Harry, aren't you on a role," Seamus said as he was sitting across from Harry.

Harry glared at his half eaten sandwich and felt himself blushing. He didn't understand it, he would think that with all that he was responsible for that girls would stay away from him but it was no good. He was thankful when the bell rang and he headed off to Potions with Hermione who looked agitated. Harry really should talk to her but if he had to be honest with himself he was afraid at what might happen if he did. Snape, who looked just as agitated to Harry's puzzlement, swiftly let them in.

Harry wondered why the man was in a bad mood as he was quick to take points off anyone who talked during his lecture on Everlasting Elixirs and Harry could tell the man had kept glancing at him as he spoke but Harry paid close attention to his notes. After Snape had given them all a demonstration on Everlasting Elixirs he assigned them a 24 inch long essay on the subject and dismissed them. Harry put his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _away in his bag and took his time putting away his notebook, quill and ink bottle. When the class left Harry slowly walked up to Snape who had been marking something down hastily on his the calendar upon his desk.

What happened next, Harry really couldn't even begin to explain. Harry had been standing by the man's desk and Snape quickly threw his quill aside and rounded on Harry, his robes making a swift noise as he stopped in front of him and Harry had barely looked up when he felt Snape's hands quickly pick him up from under his arms and the man sat him harshly on the desk and a bottle of ink crashed to the floor. Harry could barely register the man's movements before Snape's lips practically collided with his own.

They were at eye level with each other as Harry was upon the desk. Snape had come close, in-between Harry's open legs, his left hand upon the back of his head, fingers in his hair, his right holding firmly to the side of Harry's face, the tips of his fingers pressing into his flesh. Harry's eyes were wide but as the man was kissing him quite deeply, his eyes darted to the door which was closed. His heart was all a flutter, his cheeks blushing furiously and his brain, which had been full of questions, was now being easily sedated. His robes slipped slighty off his shoulders as Snape continued to press Harry into the kiss. Snape's mouth was hot and Harry's tongue was busy trying to keep up with the man's own.

Harry had no such idea of how long Snape kissed him as his head was somehow only filled with piano music and his muscles were tense. When Harry was spent for breath Snape's lips finally came away and Harry opened his eyes slowly. He was very dizzy, his body tingling with desire. Snape was staring at him, those dark eyes searching his own. His hands came away after a moment and Harry wondered what had made the man do such a thing. It had been pleasant, very pleasant but Snape seemed slightly dynamic and troubled; his eyes had that worry in them. Harry slowly got off the desk and stood on weak legs.

"How was your session?" Snape asked suddenly and Harry felt like laughing but kept his face straight while his brain was starting to work again.

"It was fine…" Harry signed quickly. "She said I need to start meditating more."

"Right," Snape said. "Well, I will see you tonight…Harry."

Harry stared at the man for a second and then signed:

"Ok…"

Snape nodded once and Harry turned around gingerly and walked to his desk and grabbed up his school bag, fixing his robes as he walked. He turned his head to see Snape still standing there, his eyes on Harry, and then he left the classroom feeling unsure of what just happened.

The rest of the day had gone on without incident. Harry sat next to Neville at dinner noticing Ron and Lavender together and Hermione and Cormac and he didn't know if he had enough courage about him to try to stop the storm that was sure to follow. It was raining softly and the winds had picked up again. Snape seemed to have settled himself and his expression was back to that certain calm. They practiced again on the wooden dummies and Harry was glad that he was getting faster at casting his spells and his concentration was strengthening.

They had gone back to Snape's personal quarters and Snape made the two of them tea and Harry was happy to sit next to the man once more by the piano, watching the man play. He didn't care to ask Snape why he had kissed him so strongly in the classroom and he couldn't figure it out himself so he let the peace wash over him once more and Snape was teaching him slowly on a tiny easy piece which Harry's fingers could barely manage to get right and he was slow about it, never once having that fluid like motion of Snape's own hands and fingers.

Their night closed with them on the couch once more, kissing much slower this time and Snape's hands were careful as they felt along his back and there was a moment when they parted and Harry's eyes were locked on those dark orbs and he felt the warmness in his chest and he didn't know why he did it or what really made him do it but his head came to rest against Snape's chest and his arms wrapped themselves around the man's waist, his hands holding onto that coat. Maybe it was just a moment of vulnerability, maybe it was just because of those sorrowful yet light piano pieces Snape kept playing, he didn't know. But he listened to the man's heart and Snape's own hands were upon his back.

Harry had never felt like this and it was as if he was barely waking into a sudden new emotion or a different part of himself and he was never one to really express this side of him and he thought that Snape wasn't either but he put it to memory the feel of the rise and fall of the man's chest and the scent of a nice cologne and the warmness of his body. He wished he could say something in his own voice, he wanted to speak so badly in that moment but he could not and it left him with a great feeling of want and he was embarrassed but Snape was gentle like always. They had kissed again and Harry knew it was time to leave and they put their robes back on and they walked through the chilled empty dungeon corridors together. He went to sleep that night feeling almost as light as air.

* * *

That Thursday morning the clouds were thick in the sky but there was no rain. Harry woke up quite early to the sound of tapping on his window and he was relieved to see that it was Hedwig carrying a parcel. He quickly put on his glasses and opened the window, the morning air was freezing and he took the parcel from her and quickly went to his trunk to grab some owl pellets and she ate them out of his open hand and then took off back into the sky. Harry, now shivering, closed the window and unwrapped the brown packaging to reveal the small nicely wrapped present with a small card placed neatly under its purple bow. The wrapping paper was white with silver designs. He placed the small box upon his bed and showered quickly, brushed his teeth and dressed into his uniform.

He woke Ron hastily and grabbed up his school bag and the present and headed to the common room which was all but empty but for Hermione who had been waiting for him with her hair done rather nicely and she wore light make up. He smiled brightly at her and held out the gift that he had been holding behind his back. Hermione smiled somewhat bashfully as she took the gift gently. She read the small shiny card first and smiled again and carefully unwrapped her birthday present and when she opened the white box and parted the thin purple wrapping inside she really smiled at the sight of the winter gloves.

"They're lovely, Harry," Hermione said and he enjoyed the light in her brown eyes.

She hugged him tightly and Harry signed:

"Happy birthday."

"I'm going to put these away, I'll be right back," Hermione said as she closed the box carefully and Harry watched her hair bounce as she hurried to the girl's dorms.

That morning Hermione received gifts from Ginny, Parvarti, Padma, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Luna, and even Lavender. Ron's gift, which had come last by the morning post owls, had made the girl smile still and Harry was grateful that nothing had gone wrong. Parvarti had whispered to Harry that they were going to have a cake in the common room at lunch and that they had made a banner. Harry, still feeling light at heart, went through the day's classes easily.

Professor Royle had them all talking about Patronus' that morning and the class was enthused as Royle was surprised at how many students (having been former members of Dumbledore's Army) could already conjure a corporeal Patronus. It was a fun lecture and at the end Royle had those who still couldn't perform the charm practicing it as his voice filled the classroom with instructions. When it was lunch Harry quickly kept Hermione company as he was the one appointed to bring her to the common room at the time Parvarti had given him.

He signed to her that he had forgotten his Transfiguration book and needed her to let him in the portrait entrance so they walked together and upon entering the common room there was a great shout of:

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

And the group of Gryffindors who had consisted of: Ron, Dean, Ginny, Seamus, Neville, Cormac, the Creevey brothers, Katie Bell, Demelza Robins, Parvarti, and a few other Gryffindors who had joined in were all clapping as there was a banner above them with blue shiny letters that read:

_Happy Birthday Hermione!_

Hermione had smiled brightly and put her hands together before her and she was blushing and she hugged Harry tightly before heading over to the group as Parvarti and Neville were holding a rich chocolate cake with white candy flowers and seventeen candles. Harry watched as they sang _Happy Birthday_ to her and she held back her hair and blew out the candles. They had cake and cold Butterbeer and were late for Transfiguration and Harry felt content as Hermione had that smile on her face all through class as her hand would rise quickly in the air to ask or answer McGonagall's questions. Harry was thankful as he stared at her that they had faced that troll together in the girl's bathroom all those years ago.

* * *

He had never felt so foolish before. And he hadn't meant for himself to feel this way but it had happened so suddenly. But it had happened, Severus had been watching Harry closely that Wednesday morning and when that Gryffindor girl had come prancing up to the boy his heart had tightened so abruptly in his chest and a certain anger had been plunged over him. He knew what this was, Severus wasn't oblivious and before he could stop his body from getting up from the Staff table causing many teachers' eyes to look his way, he made his way swiftly over to Harry in time to watch him reject the hopeful looking girl. Severus couldn't believe how the sight of such a juvenile scene had made him act in such a way and he was still annoyed.

And it was somewhat detrimental to feel this way. He knew why it caused him such frustration because it was a normal thing to happen to a good looking young man that Harry was. Severus should have expected it but how could he have prepared himself for such a thing? How could his heart feel this way and how could his mind be bombarded with such thoughts that seemed so very controlling and evil. It was jealousy and it had come to him viciously and he had no such defenses to keep it from overtaking him. He cared for Harry, deeply and devotedly and he had lied to himself to think that their relationship was something normal because it wasn't normal, it wasn't common.

He didn't want these thoughts to enter his mind. Severus didn't want doubt to cloud his anticipation, his belief, his need and he was torn. How could his heart be so exposed like this? How could it feel as if it were made of glass inside his chest? Severus had thought himself stronger than this but he was quick to realize that he was not. Because he wanted Harry to be his, to have, to hold and to ever think, to ever believe that someone else could take his place when their relationship was just in its fine beginning? It pained the heart within him and he felt weak, foolish, irrational and yet the greed spread through him like a fire in his veins and he felt possessed by it.

When it had happened again during lunch he felt as if he were to break apart right then and apart of him had expected Harry to agree to that girl's wishes but the boy had once again dealt out the quick rejection even if it was a lie. Severus couldn't quell the fire within him, he could not control what his body had done to Harry's own in his classroom because all he knew, all that he had been aware of was getting his hands on him and making their lips join together in a fierce fervor and he had taken pleasure from it and that action alone had stomped out the flames.

He wasn't sure of himself and he did not know what would become of this. It was a sudden rush through his nervous system. He had been so familiar with his old ways of living and now he was finding it severely difficult to grow accustom to this different way of life. It was a better way, surely, but it seemed to only exist between the two of them, between Harry and Severus and he wished he could never let the boy leave his sight. It felt as if he was wounded and barely healing, it felt as if he couldn't breathe enough when Harry was beside him and he was lost in such a desperation. But he knew, deep down, he just wanted what was best for Harry. Severus would continue like this for as long as he was allowed.

A sincerity would take over him when he was at the piano with Harry and it was pleasing to have those bright eyes look only at him. He rememebered when he had learned how to play in those years when he had refined himself and for some reason the music had never brought him such solace until he had played it for Harry and he enjoyed, almost too much, when he would watch Harry's hands try to play as well. Those nervous hands had no skill with such a thing but to watch the boy's face as he attempted it, as he did his best to work those fingers upon those keys; he was lost in Harry's expressions and it was in those moments where he never wanted to let Harry go. Perhaps it was a weakness but he had made his decision.

Time, he had wished it would slow down for them, wished it would stop entirely so they had no responsibilities other than to please one another but the days kept passing by and he had expected to see some sort of change in Harry but no, those eyes remained the same albeit brighter at times, that body remained the same, those hands would still fit so well in his as he covered them as if shielding them. His desires were growing stronger by the day and he knew what he could do to Harry, he knew and that was all his hands seemed to want to do and it was difficult to remain patient, to take it slow.

He was lost in his heart that seemed to have been reborn and he felt slightly naïve to everything. It certainly wasn't like him but it had been a struggle to change for the better. Would Harry always want this? Would he realize he deserved so much more? Would Harry get older and become wiser and realize just how selfish Severus was? These were more or less the few questions that plagued him. He still had confessions within him. And for some reason he knew there was still a long way to go. Did he have the willingness to do whatever it took? He did not wish to succumb to doubt and all he could do was learn to live this way and if there were to be a challenge along the way, a crack in their fine beginning, he did not know how brave he could be or how desperate he could become.

* * *

Until Saturday Harry spent the hours of the days lifted by a certain euphoria. He had been lost in the hours he spent with Snape either working on nonverbal spells in the Room of Requirement or sitting in front of the piano or drinking tea or kissing and being touched by those strong hands and he had realized that he would really never get tired of kissing the man. Everything seemed to have been going wonderful except Harry having to take cold showers both Friday and Saturday morning. Harry wished he didn't have to have such provocative dreams about Snape but they swam up in him in the night and he cursed his hormones.

On that Saturday morning he had dressed in a white cotton shirt that was very fitting with black metal buttons to the neckline, dark blue jeans, and brown trainers and his dark green hooded jumper. He had thought it was going to be a nice morning but to his displeasure he was asked out twice more in less than an hour. It had happened before he had even gotten into the Great Hall for breakfast by a 7th Year Hufflepuff and during breakfast by a 5th Year Ravenclaw. He wished to go into hiding because it was becoming stressful and he had noticed Romilda Vane staring at him all through breakfast. He took refuge in the common room but Hermione had gone to the library and Ron was busy chatting up Lavender Brown.

Harry did not know what to do; well, he wanted to do one thing and that was go see Snape and that's all his body seemed to want lately was just to be touched and felt and it was making him unable to think straight. His hormones were all a whack and he wondered just how much more he could take of this. He ate as fast as he could at lunch and almost ran to the dungeons to avoid any more of these girls that would no doubt drive him up a wall. He hadn't known what to expect that Saturday afternoon but he could never have imagined what did happen.

Snape had answered his office door quickly and the man was dressed in a form fitting dark gray dress shirt that Harry hadn't ever seen on the man and black slacks and those shiny dress shoes. Those black eyes held something deep within them. When they had entered the man's personal quarters Snape had been quick to take off Harry's jumper and hang it up on the coat rack. Snape was silent for a while when they sat down upon the couch. He had expected the man to make them tea or something else but Snape sat there and he came ever so close to Harry. Harry shivered when Snape's left hand came to rest on his right knee and the man leaned in and those lips kissed lightly upon his neck just before his ear and Harry held his breath.

"Harry…" Snape whispered against his skin and the sensation was sent straight through his whole body. Snape came away and Harry turned his head to look at his face.

"I want to touch you," Snape said ever so softly.

Harry didn't understand what he was feeling at the moment and he didn't understand what Snape meant but those eyes were shining and Harry's face felt feverish and his muscles kept tensing. He was nervous and maybe he knew what Snape wanted to do in the back of his mind, maybe he was aware of it or maybe not but all he really knew was that he wanted those hands on him, he wanted things he shouldn't want because it should be wrong but his heart didn't care and his head was full of things to say, full of ideas and those dreams.

Before he knew it the man was kissing him and Harry felt such a strong sensation rush up in him. Snape's hands were moving softly upon his back, his right hand moved down upon Harry's hip and over his thigh. It was too much, he was already dizzy and out of breath and he came away from Snape's kiss.

"Don't be scared…" Snape whispered and those lips pressed against his neck. Harry's body was trembling and his hands were shaking softly; he just didn't know what to do with his hands. "Harry…I _need_ to touch you…" Snape's face was now in front of him once more and those black eyes were so enticing and Harry was barely breathing. Snape took off Harry's glasses gently and placed them on the table.

And they were kissing again, deeply and Harry's eyes closed softly. He wanted this, he knew that more than anything else in this moment and it felt right, it felt good to him. Ever so slowly Snape's right hand lifted Harry's shirt up. He shuddered out a breath as those fingertips pushed the fabric up past his stomach and his rib cage. The cold shocked his skin and they were kissing and Harry's eyes were shut tight. Snape's hand lifted his shirt passed his chest. Snape came away from Harry's lips and Harry opened his eyes to watch the man. Snape was looking at him, at his exposed stomach and chest. His left hand was firmly on Harry's right hip and Snape's right hand was now caressing Harry's skin.

Harry had no idea how such an action could send such pleasure through his body. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment and Snape was kissing him once more and all Harry could hear was the soft sounds of their lips moving together, the light noises of the couch, the fire burning in the hearth, but he didn't really know where he was, he was lost in the feelings those hands gave him. His body shuddered when Snape's fingers fell over his left nipple; a sensation he had never felt before. Snape played with it lightly, gently. Harry's hands placed themselves gently upon the man's upper arms and he could feel the muscle there, moving as the man's hands were busy touching Harry all over his upper body.

"Lie down," Snape whispered against his ear when he had come away from their kissing.

Harry let himself fall slowly, his back and head resting on the couch and Snape's body had come away and Harry brought his legs up upon the couch. Harry closed his eyes as he could hear Snape coming on top of him and when he opened his eyes the man was on his hands and knees. Harry was trembling, his eyes searching every which way; he could hear his unsteady breaths and see the shapes in the man's arms through the fabric of that nice shirt. Snape leaned in and they were kissing again, much more passionately for a long moment. Snape's lips parted, slowly from his. Harry was breathless. His muscles were tight and he was more than self conscious as his stomach and chest were exposed to the man.

Those lips were kissing his cheek and trailing down and that hot tongue licked at his earlobe and Harry turned his head to expose more of his neck, his eyes on the crackling fire. He wanted it badly, he was embarrassed and his whole body was hot, his blood seemed to be boiling and that heat at the bottom his stomach nestled there and Snape was kissing his neck leisurely as his right hand was upon Harry's chest, caressing the skin once more.

The scent of that nice cologne reached him and the man's hair smelt good and it was upon his neck, tickling him, sending sensations through his body and he kept his eyes on the fire. A pressure built up in his stomach and his chest tightened because Snape was now sucking softly on his neck and a breath left him, a silent moan that he just couldn't keep in any longer. His whole body trembled because that right, strong hand was moving down, pressing into his skin gently, passed his torso and stomach and his breath hitched as he felt those fingers move past the belt of his jeans, the fabric, and then that hand was over his groin.

Harry felt such a strong sensation as he gasped and his hands gripped the couch. Arousal was bleeding through him and Snape was still kissing upon his neck and slowly that right hand began to move up and down, rubbing gently and he was shocked at how easily he was stimulated and how responsive his body was to that hand. Harry kept his eyes on the fire as he was trembling all over; he couldn't get enough air as his heart was pounding in his chest. He was no longer nervous; his body had fought it long enough.

He could feel himself shaking; his eyes were unsteady as he watched the flames dance. It was so intimate, so strange, so different, and he couldn't stop the memories that rose in his mind as if they were flickering there like a candle. What were they together? Why did this man seem to be everything to his world? How had his heart accepted this so easily? He felt as if he were under a spell. He felt as if he and this man seemed to be one in the same. Even if it wasn't fate, even if it was just chance he couldn't imagine anything else that could have been, not in this moment, not when his body was so entangled, overwhelmed with such feelings, not when it seemed like his heart would burst at any second.

Snape came away from his neck.

"Look at me," Snape whispered gently.

Harry turned his head slowly and his eyes met those dark pools and he felt another wave of arousal rush through his whole being.

"Harry…does it feel good?" Snape whispered and he sounded almost breathless.

_Of course it does… _Harry's face burned and he nodded once.

"Do you do this to yourself?" Snape asked softly.

_Don't ask me that…_A shiver went through Harry's body and his face felt so feverish, he could feel the slight perspiration on his forehead. He shook his head quickly as his hands were holding tight to the couch.

"Has anyone touched you like this before?" Snape whispered.

_Why do you want to know? _Harry's vision was hazy; he bit his lip as he shook his head no once more.

Then Snape was kissing him deeply and Harry felt that hand leave his erection that was painful because his jeans were constricting it. He felt the need to thrust his hips; he was going to go mad with this desire. But Snape's fingers undid his belt easily and Harry heard the jingle of the metal, Snape unbuttoned his jeans and Harry gasped slightly into their kiss as his zipper was brought all the way down. Harry was aware of it all, he knew he was incredibly embarrassed, extremely aroused, every inch of his body was burning, his palms were sweaty, his inner thighs held such heat and he was scared.

Snape came away from the kiss and Harry wished he hadn't because Snape's hand was caressing his waist just before his boxers as his muscles trembled. Harry covered his face with his shaking hands, he couldn't help it, he couldn't bear to look into those eyes, to see that face that he liked so much while this was happening to him.

"Harry, please, I want to see your face," Snape said gently.

Harry slowly brought his hands away and Snape was looking at him. Harry's cheeks were as red as ever, those eyes glossed over with light and a slight fear, his lips dark. Snape looked so composed, those dark locks framing his face, and there was an eagerness in those black eyes. Harry felt that hand slide under his boxers, past the light hair there, and take hold of his erection and Harry's back arched, his hands gripped tightly onto the couch, and a silent gasped moan left his body. His muscles in his stomach tensed. His body had never known such pleasure before. Colors seemed to dance before his eyes as they were wide and glistening; the blue was so brilliant, generated by the pure light of the fire. He felt taken over by that hand, by this body and he had no sort of structure to him and his heart beat was alive in his ears.

Those lips ravished his as Snape's body came closer and that strong hand was stroking his member, it was slow at first as Harry could tell as he was panting against Snape's lips but the momentum soon grew quick, hot and slick and Harry could barely think coherent thoughts. It was just him and Snape in whatever world they were in. Snape was breathing a bit harder and Harry was panting, his face slightly sweaty, and all he could think was the man's name in his head over and over.

"Harry, Harry," Snape whispered against his lips. Harry couldn't tell if the man was trembling or not. He knew nothing but how good this was making him feel, no, it was much more than good, his body was caught in a rapture and he was dizzy and his eyes met Snape's and then he was looking down at that hand that was stroking him and he could feel it, he could feel the edge coming fast and he would fall over it any second now.

His eyes shut tightly, his face was on fire, and his back arched, stiffly, his hips thrusting upward somewhat, his fingers were clutching so tightly to the couch his knuckles were white, and a silent shout left him and he felt himself go, his seed spilling out of him into that strong hand and wave after wave of a pulsating vibration rushed through him as that hand continued to stroke him. He was being kissed through the last of it as his muscles shivered and relaxed and his shoulders hitched.

A moment passed as he could feel the hot substance seeping into the fabric of his boxers and jeans. Harry's senses were returning as Snape's lips came away. The man's forehead pressed against Harry's own and he felt the heat there. Snape's hand slid out from his pants. Harry was more embarrassed than he had ever been in his life and he didn't know what to do. He felt as if he were floating. He felt as if he needed to apologize. He couldn't believe Snape had done such a thing to him, made him feel that way.

"Hold still," Snape said softly and Harry shut his eyes and didn't see Snape sit up on his knees and take out his wand with his left hand from his pocket and Harry felt a strange feeling down there and it made him gasp slightly as he felt quite sensitive in that area. He opened his eyes and realized what Snape had done and his face burned for the man had cast whatever spell to clean Harry and himself of the substance. Snape leaned over him again and Harry couldn't look the man in the eyes. Harry crossed his arms over his eyes.

"Harry, it's alright," Snape whispered before the man's lips kissed him lightly.

Snape came away and those hands brought his shirt down gently and then did up his pants and belt quickly. He lay there still feeling the remnants of his climax. He could smell the man's cologne on him now, mixing with the scent of his body soap. His neck felt sweaty as did his face.

"You were quite stunning," Snape said softly as he was sitting on the couch now before Harry.

He wished that voice didn't sound so amazingly calm. Harry seemed to be unable to move as his mind was forcibly playing what had happened over and over again. He felt foolish.

"Would you like something to drink?" Snape's voice sounded amused once again.

He waited for a moment under the slight weight of his arms that were still over his eyes and nodded. Harry let his arms fall slowly and through his blurred vision he watched Snape go and he felt the ghostly touch still upon himself. He sat up ever so slowly. He wasn't sure what he should be feeling now when they had just done something that intimate. He felt naked somehow because Snape had felt that part of him; he felt quite vulnerable.

He let his legs slide over the couch and his shoes touched the ground. He was dizzy still and somehow exhausted. Snape came back with a tray of two glasses of iced tea. Harry cast his eyes down upon his hands that were on his knees now. He briefly wondered if he should have touched the man as well, if Snape had been stimulated at all but his face flushed at those thoughts. He didn't know if he would be able to do such a thing, yet. Snape set the tray down and sat close to Harry.

"Harry," Snape called gently.

His eyes lifted and he stared into the black. He had never thought this man would change so much. Harry had never thought that he himself would change so much. He hadn't been prepared for it all; his emotions had hardly been ready for any of this but still he felt himself being guided easily through it by Snape and his composed and refined self. It was unfair really, how could he be a match to this man? How could Snape feel that way about him?

He looked away; he was still feeling quite embarrassed. His right hand was upon the couch and he felt the touch of skin from Snape's left hand and ever so slowly both of their hands intertwined together. Snape pulled gently, his body leaning in and Harry's body turned and he made his face come before the man's own and their lips met, gently.

"I'm sorry," Snape whispered and Harry felt the shiver go down his spine. "I know it was rather intimate…but you were just too tempting."

Harry felt the blush spread across his cheeks and once again he just couldn't understand what part of him made Snape feel like that and he was much too self-conscious to ask such a thing. Snape straightened himself and their hands slipped out of their warm hold and Harry put his glasses back on. He drank his tea as he was rather thirsty and Snape watched him.

"I left a mark," the man said softly.

Harry turned his head and gave the man a confused look.

"Here," Snape said and his hand came up and touched the tender spot on Harry's neck and came away.

Harry felt it with his own hand. He wondered what it looked like.

"I'll have to put something on it to get rid of it," Snape said.

Harry didn't know why he felt somewhat disappointed that he had to get rid of it since Snape was the one who had given it to him. He set his glass back on the tray and sat there for a moment. He let his body tilt ever so slowly until his head came to rest on Snape's arm. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen to them and sadly, how long would they have. He let himself be lost in these moments, these minutes, in the instants where he realized just how much he had grown attached to this man. Even if he was timid, even if he was nervous, even if he could never find all the pieces that belonged to this man, to Snape, he could go on like this, living like this, in this slow melody of borrowed time and wishful thinking.

* * *

So his heart felt as if it was made of glass but it could have been growing stronger. It felt as if their history together had been written in fine golden lines to a soft tune of piano cords. And his hands were controlled by this heart and his deepest desires. He had wanted to give that body bliss so he had without restriction, without forcefulness and his eyes had moved all over that body; over the shadows upon the soft skin. The fire lit up that body and the red blossom in those cheeks and those lips. He had never known these feelings, these sensations before, he had never done this before and he had to admit that he had been terrified however he seemed to have hid it well.

He wanted their bodies to be like this forever, to be together, to live off each other and no one else. And the colors between them matched so well it made him feel overpowered. Perhaps he was just imagining it; perhaps it was just because he wanted it so badly; he didn't care to understand it. He cared for this body; he cared for the breaths they took together, for the way they seemed to awaken one another, for how they sent such a drive in each other, a willful living. And his body needed to be against him in any way and when they were apart he would remind himself of how their hands felt together, of how his skin would feel upon that body, of how they left footprints on each other's souls. It was a beautiful dream and he wished to dream it forever. And Severus knew no other way than this.

* * *

**I have to admit I was quite nervous to put up this chapter but I hope it is accepted and I hope no one is offended. I hope everyone liked it. Please review if you can, I really look forward to reviews and they give me inspiration. Thank you for your support and for reading. **

** Things seem good for the two of them but you can't have the good without the bad; it's going to get a little bumpy in the next chapter and a bit scary. The next chapter will be up soon. **

**I apologize if there are any errors. **

**Thank you for your reviews for the last chapter. **


	28. Chapter 27: Black Bird Part I

A/N: I MUST apologize for the lateness of this chapter, I am extremely sorry but the past few days have been very busy for me and I didn't expect them to be as well as being stricken with writer's block even though I knew what to write I just didn't know how to begin this chapter at all but then it came to me about 3 days ago and I went on a writing spree. I really do hope no one will be disappointed in this chapter. My imagination went wild. Anyway, back to the story, I hope you enjoy it and if you don't thank you for reading till this point:

**Warning: This chapter contains M/M and Mature and Graphic Content. Don't like it, don't read it, thank you.**

**I do not own the Harry Potter books or movies; such rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.**

* * *

**Chapter 27: Black Bird Part I**

There was still the slightest blush of red left in Harry's cheeks as Severus noticed as the boy was looking at himself in the mirror. Harry had wanted to see the mark that he had left upon his neck. The boy seemed to marvel over it as his eyes were locked upon the tiny bruise that contrasted with his skin. Severus was leaning on the doorway of the guest restroom watching Harry and holding a small clear jar of salve. Harry's feet moved this way and that slowly as he turned his body to see the mark from all angles. Severus didn't know why this action amused him.

"Are you really that fascinated with it?" Severus asked softly.

The boy flushed somewhat and smiled and bit his lip. Severus caught a glimpse of that pink tongue in the mirror. His eyes couldn't help but travel up and down the boy's form. That white shirt was tight; it hugged Harry's abdomen and chest just right as well as the slender curves of the boy's hips. It went well with his skin that had the slightest kiss of the sun. Those dark jeans shaped the muscle in Harry's thighs and even though the boy had a small frame and short stature he was well proportioned and Severus found that he admired that almost too much.

He had never in his life been attracted to men so obviously he hadn't the faintest idea how quickly his eyes were drawn to the formed muscles in Harry's thin biceps and the firmness in Harry's shoulders or his exposed neck which defined the strong outline of the boy's jaw and the muscles that moved there to Harry's ears. Severus was fond of the shadows that would appear there and all over the boy's skin; the way they blended so well; he knew he could stare for hours which surprised him. Harry's short hair was so well kept, especially in the back but he preferred it when the wind had played with those short locks, having the look of having just been out in a winter's day.

Severus could mention all of these things to himself, all of these things he was attracted to but could only find in Harry. Perhaps he was just the sort of man that only ever went after one thing, or person and his memory drank Harry in, every part of that body that he had seen and felt. It was difficult to stand in the doorway and watch the boy move about, making those muscles work in his neck, turning his waist, seeing those odd trainers move about the shined floor. He was so young, just 16, and yet Severus couldn't stop himself from admiring the parts of the boy's hair that would light up underneath the bright glow of the restroom or the flicker of those eyelashes, the glisten of those blue eyes, finding a freckle here or there, wondering how Harry's face could look so flawless considering he was an adolescent. His black eyes followed the boy's hands as those fingertips touched the marble counter.

"Harry…" Severus said in almost a whisper.

"I've never had one…" those nervous hands signed. Severus watched those eyes look down, away from the mark. "I suppose it is…embarrassing…but I always like the things you give me…"

"I think that's a lie," Severus said and he walked over to Harry, standing behind him, staring into the mirror. He rather liked the great dominance he had over the boy in height.

"Not really," the boy signed keeping his eyes down but all Severus stared at were those lips in which he had grown used to reading. "Not now anyway…"

Severus smirked and his hands quickly undid the small jar.

"Don't worry," Severus said as he took a tiny amount of the clear salve upon his right index finger. "Next time I'll put one in a place you can easily conceal." His dark eyes took in the sight of those cheeks blushing and he gently began to rub the salve upon the small bruise. Severus could feel the heat in the boy's skin and the lively pulse there and the briefest tensing of the muscle.

Severus took up the lid of the jar from the counter and fastened it back on. Harry stepped aside as Severus came forward and turned on the tap and washed his hands quickly as his eyes caught the brief dissatisfaction in Harry's eyes as the bruise rapidly faded; looking as if the skin had never been touched. He dried his hands on the white hand towel on the small hook.

"I guess it's time I get back," Harry signed.

"Yes, it is," Severus said gently.

They headed out of the room and to the entryway where Severus watched the boy put on his jumper as he put on his overcoat and did up the line of buttons and straightened his collar. The boy's eyes lingered upon the sitting room and Severus could tell Harry was remembering what had happened on his couch. Then those eyes looked up at him shyly and Harry turned quickly and Severus followed him to his office.

"Harry," Severus said and stopped just before his office door.

Harry turned and Severus knew the boy was embarrassed.

"Tomorrow, you'll have your detention at night," Severus said softly. "We'll have dinner together."

It always sent a warmness to his heart when those eyes would light up.

"Do you…think I could help you this time? I mean with dinner," Harry signed quickly.

Severus held his arms behind his back as he stared down at the boy; he had a hopeful expression on his face and of course, despite how he felt reluctant towards the idea, he could never refuse such a look.

"I suppose you may help," Severus answered and wondered if the boy knew how to cook at all. "Come here at five tomorrow evening."

He watched the boy smile. It was then that Severus stepped forward and his right hand took hold of Harry's hip firmly, the other coming gently behind the boy's head; his fingers felt the brush of soft hair. Severus leaned in and his lips met Harry's that were warm, his breath sweet and he liked that the boy had his scent about him. He tried not to kiss the boy too deeply or he feared he would never let Harry leave so it was just one last kiss for the day that was hardly over and he came away.

Harry was trembling ever so softly, those hands holding onto the sleeves of his jumper nervously. Severus wondered what thoughts were running through the boy's head and it was all too soon that he was walking him back to Gryffindor Tower and bidding the boy a good evening. Severus walked quickly back, ignoring the frightened glances he received from the younger students who were walking about the castle. It was raining softly and the winds were growing stronger but he paid no attention to the weather or the sun that was struggling to break through the heavy clouds.

Severus returned to his private quarters and took off his overcoat swiftly and hung it upon the coat rack where only moments before Harry's dark green jumper had accompanied it. Harry. The boy's name was burned into his senses at the moment and he could not relax his thoughts or rather the fresh memories that were on the surface as if he could see them so clearly before his eyes. He headed to his bedroom and into the master bathroom where only weeks before he had been so ashamed of his deepest desires. He felt a different kind of shame now or perhaps it was guilt. He knew his body would not tolerate a freezing cold shower, no, not after what his eyes had seen that afternoon; not after what his hands had did to the boy.

Severus was aroused and he had been aroused when his body had been over the boy's, painfully aroused but he, being a skilled Occlumens, was able to master himself; he was fully aware that Harry was not ready for anything more than the step they had just took. Severus didn't know if he himself was quite there yet. In fact, he had been very unsure if the two of them were capable of doing such an intimate thing together at all but he was relieved that Harry had accepted it so well. He supposed it was out of habit that he thought the boy would refuse what Severus had wanted to do.

But now those images were an undying force in his mind and he rid himself of his clothes quickly. He felt guilty but what else was he to do? Severus turned the shower on swiftly and in moments the steam was rising. He stepped in, naked, and let the hot spray wash over his body and his muscles relaxed. His hands rubbed at his face, splashing the water about as his eyes were shut. He could remember it all; he could feel everything in those stolen moments, those hidden minutes, those desperate, forbidden actions. Harry's body had been so striking and so much skin had been exposed and he had only wished to see it all however knowing that Harry had barely been undressed made it more stimulating.

With his eyes closed, his right hand gliding down his form to take hold of his erect member that was stiff, he recalled the needing look Harry's eyes had given him and remembered how easily the boy had been aroused, he remembered how Harry had felt in his hand, how he had stroked him, making the muscles in Harry's body tense so tightly, those fingers had clung to the couch, the boy had been panting and how Severus had engulfed it all, how stunning it had been to his eyes to watch every moment of it, every action, every movement; he couldn't see enough of Harry and it was this obsession that surprised him truly. He was lost in it, encaged within it and how he wished he could hear the noises Harry could make. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough to just imagine them.

But he stroked himself to the rhythm of that shaking young heart, the shadows upon that chest, the lightly colored nipples, the dark hue in those wet lips, the bright energized blue of his eyes, the heat of the boy's body, even the feel of his clothes, all of it, he should have touched so much more of it, so much more. He was breathing harder as his hand pumped faster and he felt guilty, his body was fevered, he was ashamed, he felt foolish, he felt so aroused but all he could see were those colors, those shapes, the outlines that his own eyes were so drawn too. He could easily overpower that body, could easily hurt that body but all his hands ever wanted to do was be gentle but true, to mean every touch, every single touch, to make every second count as if they were running out of them, as if they were only allowed mere minutes with one another.

It was so desperate, he was so desperate, he was so full of everything of the life of Harry could give him and where in moments it felt like it could last forever he would indulge and others felt as if he were racing to finish. Severus could barely stand it; how could it be? How could anyone feel this way? It was so over the top, so unreal and yet it mattered in the truest of ways. It had been so long since he felt like this; since he felt more of a man, whatever kind of man, since he felt here, since he felt any kind of existence, he was planted, strongly.

It felt too good, too sensual, but he couldn't hold himself back and he lived in the heat of the water that hit his all too hot of skin and he stroked himself quickly. He forgot who he was, who he had been, he forgot about his reputation, about the way he carried himself through his life, about how strict he was, how cruel he could be. He let it all go in the sharp breaths he let out; he didn't care at the moment because under the lids of his eyes all he could care for were the bright images of that body lost in the pleasure Severus was giving it; of the way their bodies felt together, of how it was possible that it could look right, look honest and genuine, he thought of how he felt such possessiveness over Harry, of how much he desired to be the only one.

It could have been madness, dangerous, illicit but he hadn't any control, not now, for once, not now. Severus clenched his teeth hard, his breath ragged, as he came, his seed spilling out in time with the waves of pleasure that rushed down upon his body; his heart pounding hard in his chest. He waited as he caught his breath, his left hand firm upon the tiled wall, his muscles tense; the steam rising off his skin. He shook off the euphoric feelings that were left in him and cleared his head, washing his hair and body quickly. He felt imprudent, careless, and juvenile as he turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel.

Severus dried himself off. It was impractical because as he brushed his teeth all he could think about was what Harry was doing now. The slight embers of jealousy coiled in his chest as he thought that the boy might be conversing with another hopeful girl. He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth swiftly, briefly cleaning the tooth brush and placing it back in its holder. He had things to do but he hardly felt like doing anything. He changed into his usual school attire and headed to his office to work on the lesson plans for his classes. As he sat at his desk writing things down quickly on time charts he shook his head shortly. He honestly just couldn't get the boy out of his head.

* * *

Harry woke up that Sunday morning to the sound of the harsh wind rattling the window by his bed. He rolled over on his back and stretched. He was glad that his body felt calm as his hormones had been subdued for now. He put his glasses on and saw that it was 8:30 in the morning. He got out of bed and shook the sleeping Ron in his bed since they both had plenty of homework to do that day. He then showered and dressed. For some reason it took a while to choose what boxers he wanted to wear today but settled for a pair of soft, dark blue ones and black straight khakis and a dark gray long sleeve cotton shirt with small light gray buttons up the short neckline. He put on socks and his white and gray trainers.

When Ron was finally dressed in a maroon jumper and jeans they headed down to the common room where Hermione was sitting. She wore a dark red hooded jumper over tight dark jeans and simple black flats. She had her nose in her Ancient Runes book but when she spotted Harry and Ron she got to her feet and greeted them. They headed down to breakfast. Harry had been hopeful that he wouldn't get anymore giggling girls asking him out which didn't happen but what did happen had been slightly worse. Having no one to really sit with as Ron was talking to Lavender and Cormac McLaggen had called for Hermione to sit next to him with the other 7th Years he had decided to sit next to Neville but Cho Chang had wandered quickly over to his side.

Harry, being the polite young man that he was or a cowardly Gryffindor, endured her company as she chatted about things Harry really didn't listen much to. Harry thought he might slip out of his seat as she had kept sitting closer to him. He barely had the appetite for his pancakes. He suddenly wished there was a rule for students to only sit at their appropriate House table. Thankfully though the girl hadn't asked him out, Cho hadn't even brought up their odd short relationship at all. When breakfast was over he managed to get Ron away from Lavender and upon returning to the common room he, Ron, and Hermione tackled their homework. Harry had difficulty getting through his Transfiguration essay and it didn't help that Ron kept groaning throughout his own.

Harry found himself putting in a bit more effort when he had done Snape's essay on Everlasting Elixirs. He wrote neatly and tried to stack up as much details on the topic as possible. He thought about Snape a lot now and he had to admit it was slightly awkward to be around his friends knowing what had happened only a day ago as it was past noon now. He couldn't imagine their reactions if he had ever told the truth to either Ron or Hermione. It was a somewhat lonely feeling. He couldn't help that because he didn't know what kind of future there could be, if any, with Snape. Here he was again, pretending that there wasn't a fight up ahead; a struggle to survive. But wasn't he allowed to be happy? Even if he was the Chosen One; did such a title mean he couldn't be happy? Couldn't have a future? A family? It was no use to dwell on things he could never know.

At lunch Harry hadn't expected to find Ginny looking as if she had been crying. The girl sat there at the Gryffindor table with puffy eyes and a dying redness in her cheeks. He didn't see Dean anywhere. Hermione went to her side quickly while Ron and him sat stiffly a few feet away. It wasn't long before chatter filled the Hall and Harry couldn't hear what Ginny and Hermione were talking about.

"They probably had a fight," Ron muttered as he served himself a chicken sandwich.

Harry glanced over at Ginny who still looked somewhat forlorn as she was now circling her spoon in her potato soup. Harry's eyes then glanced up at the Staff table and Dumbledore wasn't there. His eyes settled on Snape who was talking to Professor McGonagall. He couldn't help but zero in on those lips that moved swiftly, those black eyes looked focused and stern. The man's right hand was right by his goblet; the same hand that only 24 hours ago…Harry felt himself blushing and he looked away quickly; his skin tingled.

He smiled softly as he made his spoon push against a carrot in his soup. Harry found himself reminiscing over a lot of things and he didn't know why. Of course these memories were of Snape and they bounced about in his mind. Snape's face hardly looked any older than the day he had first seen the man 5 years ago, well, from what he could recall. But he clearly remembered sitting in Potions class for the first time ever and Snape was calling off their names on the role sheet with that deep velvety voice and had paused at Harry's name. He remembered having no clue to the questions Snape had asked him. What had they been? Something about what would one get if they added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? He remembered the way the man had swept from the front of the classroom to sit right before him. Had Snape seemed much taller then? Had Harry been scared then? He laughed softly without really meaning to.

"What's funny?" Ron asked as he had noticed Harry's smile.

Harry shook his head and Ron gave him a look but went back to eating his lunch. Maybe it was funny because neither of them could have ever guessed that this was what would become of them. And as Harry sat there, the voices around the Hall deafening, he couldn't help but think of what Snape really wanted. He always liked when Snape would talk to him in such a gentle way; would say things that took Harry off guard, that made Harry happy. Shouldn't he be careful? Shouldn't he prepare himself for the worse? Or did he really believe that the two of them would be together? Would stay together? It wasn't normal and it wasn't supposed to be natural so why? Why did it feel _natural_ when they were with each other? It made his heart feel constricted. Because when he had fallen asleep last night, the scent of Snape still lingering upon his skin, he couldn't help but think, briefly believe, that perhaps, just maybe, that he belonged in those strong arms that embraced him so tightly.

* * *

_Another bottle was flung against the wall; the glistening pieces littered the wooden floor. The sound of glass breaking was so familiar to him but still his body had flinched. The hallway had been cold, the house dreary and dark. He listened to the common chaos that took place in that sitting room with those plain walls. Everything had been so plain, so neglected, like him._

_"You don't get to order me around, woman!" the man's voice bellowed. The man was tall, he knew that, tall and burly and angry all the time. A great big vessel of hatred; the man who had first instilled the emotion of fear into his body. He heard the sounds of those glass bottles falling over as those heavy feet staggered through them. How he had hated the sound of those footsteps; so noisy, so disruptive._

_"Stop it, stop throwing things!" the woman's voice was shrill and shaking. He had the darkness of her hair that was thinning now; probably because of all the stress. He had wondered if he would be able to remember a time where she had smiled. She had always made herself the target, always falling into the same routine, perhaps she had just learned to live with such an insanity. He wondered why she let herself feel so little._

_"I told you I don't want to see him or you doing _that_ in this house!" The man slurred. He was so used to that ugly, loud voice. It was so destructive, so cruel; it had taught him cruelty. They always wound up arguing about the same things and he loathed how he had to be subjected to it. It was a never-ending cycle. He wondered why he bothered to listen; bothered to stay…He briefly remembered a picture frame that was crooked on the wall, the buzzing of a fly, the patterns on the floor, the rip he had in the knee of his pants, the feel of the old sweater that made his chest itch, the heavy feeling in his heart._

_"Please, Tobias, I just wanted…" Her voice was tired and subdued. If he could forget that voice he would have long ago. He could imagine her thin lips shaking, the regret in her eyes, the despair that had wrinkled her once fair moonlit skin but she had never had a strong will, never had a stern backbone; unfit to be a mother perhaps, or maybe she had just given up on her dreams long ago._

_He heard a loud slap, a shout and a thud against the floor. Bottles fell over as those feet stomped against the wood. The door opened, letting the sound of pouring rain come to his ears and then it slammed shut. He was tired of being angry, of being so aggravated and he could barely recall that his body had been trembling as he stood in that dark hallway of the sitting room._

_He could remember how he hated her cowardice, her submissiveness, her weak mind despite her blood purity. And he knew he was a hypocrite because not once did he ever stop being a coward, not once, despite his abilities, did he ever have a brave heart to stop it all, to stop the glass from shattering, to stop the fighting; no, all Severus could do was listen and know that all this would someday just be a repentant memory._

"Severus," Dumbledore's voice was light. "Are you alright?"

His black eyes had been staring absentmindedly at the golden and red feathers of Fawkes. The phoenix was sleeping as he was upon his perch. Severus felt his eyes turn to face those of the Headmaster. He could hear the blustery wind outside that belonged to this Sunday morning. He hadn't expected the sudden memory to hover up through his disconnected thoughts but it had.

"I asked you how Harry was doing," the old wizard said softly with his hands folded upon the table before his empty tea cup.

Severus had not touched his own tea as the purple liquid had gone cold and was still, reflecting the light of the office. Severus wondered how he could make himself look the man in the eyes despite the secret he harbored. He knew it would be best to just keep it from Dumbledore; he hadn't the courage to tell the Headmaster anything about him and Harry's relationship. It was hazardous and he was unsure of what the man's reaction would be. He was also fearful of the consequences; he could not deny this feeling.

However, he always sensed that the old wizard possessed abilities greater than what was known to him. Dumbledore had a unique perception and despite what information the man often reserved against Severus he couldn't help but feel those light blue eyes examining him. Those eyes were knowing, searching, discovering but Severus knew no one would ever be capable of looking at him the way the boy did. Those eyes, Harry's eyes, always looked at him with innocence, genuine curiosity, carefulness, and sensitivity. Severus would keep this secret locked up no matter if this was Dumbledore before him.

"Harry is quite well," Severus said softly and truthfully. "His concentration is improving, he's lively and he has somewhat better control over his anxiety." It irritated him to know that he sounded like the boy's therapist.

"How has Harry been feeling lately?" Dumbledore's voice was earnest.

"He's…happy…for now," Severus answered slowly. "But he is grieving and I know it will be quite some time before he is ready to face and overcome the guilt that he feels."

"And you're sure of this?" Dumbledore said sounding slightly disenchanted.

"It is easy to notice, to recognize it, Headmaster," Severus said quietly.

"Do you think Harry has the strength to overcome it?" Dumbledore asked gently and Severus knew it was just a question for him.

"Of course I do," Severus answered after a moment as his dark eyes stared out the window. The sky was shadowed with heavy gray clouds and he thought of Harry. He was always thinking of Harry. His eyes fell upon the man's blackened fingers in which he knew the slight difference in them; the curse was spreading.

"Severus, when you see Harry I would like you to tell him that he is to come here tomorrow morning at eight thirty," Dumbledore spoke after a long silent moment between them.

Severus's black eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the man.

"It's nothing dangerous, it's just something I should have discussed with the boy weeks ago but just couldn't find the right time. Seeing as how the right time will most likely never present itself I find it best to just be done with it," Dumbledore said.

Severus felt his shoulders tense. He knew it would be useless to ask the man what it was he wanted the boy for as well as to ask him why he was leaving the castle on certain days. He sighed inwardly and decided to keep the worries out of his mind and take the day slowly. He would be seeing Harry tonight and he didn't want his thoughts to interrupt their time together.

"Is that all, Headmaster?" Severus said with little emotion.

"Yes. Please give Harry my regards, Severus and have a good morning," the Headmaster said and briefly smiled at him.

Severus nodded and stood quickly.

"Have a good morning," Severus said and left the office swiftly.

He didn't know why he felt irritable that morning. Perhaps, and it made him even more irritated to acknowledge it, it was because Harry had spent his morning at breakfast with that Chang girl. He had barely been able to swallow his food as his eyes had glared at the two of them. The embers within him had ignited once more and Severus despised the simple fact that they looked like a couple together, even if the Chang girl was slightly taller than the boy. Severus wanted nothing more than to curse the girl right then. Even if Harry looked like he didn't want to be sitting next to her he had smiled here and there. He was well aware of the numerous glances the boy received from the girls around him.

Severus inwardly sighed again when he entered his personal quarters. He settled himself down in the soft black armchair next to the couch with a cup of Earl Gray tea and the book he had been reading. However he was entirely lonesome and he felt himself an utter fool for feeling this way. Harry was supposed to be the one recovering from depression and here he was acting like some dramatic stricken teenager. He looked over at the large couch and then back to his book. He sat there for mere moments but he was lost in thought; the text on the crisp white paper kept blurring out of focus and he was sure he had read the same paragraph five times already without letting anything sink in. He shut the book harshly and let out a frustrated breath. He knew he was hardly a patient man.

When lunch came around he sat at the Staff table. He hadn't been in the mood for any conversation making though that didn't stop Minerva McGonagall from turning in her seat somewhat to face him. Severus briefly caught the waver of the black feather in her dark green hat as she said:

"Good afternoon, Severus," the woman said briskly.

"Minerva…" Severus muttered.

"Is something bothering you?"

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Not particularly," he answered and took a quick drink from his goblet.

"Well, I just wanted to say, despite the incident that happened between Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, the boy does seem to be doing much better…" McGonagall said. "I'm pleased to see you two acting civil toward one another. It's a good thing Albus put you in such a position over the summer…"

"Indeed…" Severus replied.

"I fear for Mr. Potter…we all do," the woman said as she placed her hands lightly upon the table. "Potter always places himself at the frontline; a place where a boy does not belong…but I suppose he is just about a young man now…even if his eyes do not look it…"

Severus could have cringed. It was times like these he wished Dumbledore were here to listen to this old woman's bantering as if she were the grandmother of the school. Surely he knew McGonagall was a talented witch and she was wise, perhaps beyond Severus's miserable years but the only thing that they had ever talked, or argued to be proper, about was the rivalry between their Houses and seeing as how Severus's competiveness had been focused on other things he hadn't really spoken to the woman much; he wasn't a very social man to begin with.

"I do have a question," Minerva said. "Does Potter often draw in your class?"

"What?" Severus said with a slightly confused expression. He had no interest in his soup despite how he was holding the spoon lazily in his right hand and he let it go by his goblet.

"You know, doodles, in his notebooks," the woman went on and Severus's mind was suddenly struck with the memory of the day when Harry had gotten paint all over himself during one of his sessions where the boy had made a collage.

"Mr. Potter often indulges his attention in drawing during my lectures," Minerva said lightly. "I really haven't the heart to take points; I know I shouldn't treat him differently but…well, you can understand perhaps…and he does show some talent with it."

"No, Ha…" Severus almost bit his tongue. "Mr. Potter does not draw in my class, if anyone drew in _my_ class they would be given a detention straight away…"

The woman just smiled softly, going back to her meal and Severus glared at his soup. He was grateful that she spared him from anymore of this ludicrous conversation. His dark eyes fell on Harry in which he noticed the small smile upon the boy's face. He wondered what could be making the boy smile since he wasn't talking with anyone. He inwardly sighed once more. Severus could remember when he had been so unsure of the two of them and so focused on staying back and only looking at the boy from a distance. That idea seemed irrational now, impossible. He had only wanted to briefly graze the possibility then and now here he was entangled in it by his own choosing even if Harry had been so appealing.

He played with those memories for a moment. They seemed like they belonged to someplace far off in a distant dream where the two of them had walked the few blocks of the heart of London and he could hear the loud bustle of muggles, of cars and buses. He could recall the way they looked together when they walked and he couldn't help but want to take Harry to places the boy had never been when he so easily had traveled to over the years because he simply could. Once again he was touching on something that he shouldn't bother with. Perhaps it was the doubt lingering in his mind, etching against his heart.

* * *

Harry thought it sort of strange to be in Snape's kitchen. It was very spacious and precise with white tiled flooring, black cabinets with silver handles, black and gray granite counters matched with more black cabinets that were on either sides of the walls. In the corner there was a simple steel looking refrigerator and Harry wondered how the thing worked without electricity. There was a small door in the far corner of the room which was a pantry. Harry had never seen a wood burning stove before but Snape had one and it was large, shiny and iron black. Another lantern-like lamp made of steel hung from the ceiling and its light was very bright.

There was a larger counter in the center of the kitchen with the same granite counter top where Harry was sitting at on a metal stool as Snape stood across from him. The man wore a fine dark red dress shirt with clear buttons and black slacks. Harry had smiled when Snape had put on the black (of course) simple apron as if he were a painter. There was a red cookbook on the counter between the two of them as they had decided to make Italian Sausage Spaghetti together although Snape had been doing most of the work as Harry had just watched. He had noticed that Snape had made certain corrections to the recipe text in his own writing. Behind the man, upon the stove, was a silver pot set to bowl and a large frying pan which Harry could smell the delicious sweet Italian sausage mixed with the hot and spicy Italian sausage which the recipe called for.

Snape at the moment was preparing the salad in the glass serving bowl and Harry was cutting up yellow onions on a large wooden cutting board. The man had been reluctant to hand over a cutting knife to Harry because of his clumsiness but he had persisted that Snape let him do something. Despite Harry's trembling hands he had been doing a good job of dicing up the onions however the strong aroma was making his eyes water. His eyes, blinking rapidly, couldn't help but watch Snape's hands as he was adding in more leafy greens.

"We would be done a lot faster if I just used a simple charm…" Snape said quickly as his eyes looked to Harry who glared at him. The man sighed and Harry smiled.

No magic. That had been Harry's wish as they made their first meal together. He hadn't really known why he wanted to make their meal without a spell's help. Maybe it just seemed better this way, maybe he could imagine there wasn't a school outside these walls or maybe…

"Be careful Harry," Snape said and turned to tend to the cooking meat on the stove.

Harry held tighter to the knife but his eyes couldn't help but watch the man in front of the stove as those hands grabbed up a certain spice from the silver rack on the counter next to him. It was as if he was staring at a different person altogether. He watched Snape's shoulder blades move beneath the dress shirt as the man used a spatula on the meat. It was definitely something out of the ordinary to be doing and he wondered how Snape could allow Harry to see him like this. A man such as him, cooking like a muggle but Harry wanted to think this was special, all of it, because they were together were they not?

Harry focused on dicing up the garlic cloves next, quickly, as Snape had gotten out another smaller frying pan and lit the burner underneath it. He then took up the package of uncooked pasta and opened it and Harry smiled softly as he watched Snape pour the contents into the boiling water. It was sort of like Potions which the man was brilliant at so why shouldn't he be brilliant at cooking which called for following a recipe and careful attention just like a potion? Snape stirred the cooking pasta with a silver ladle and set it down and turned to face Harry once more. Those black eyes stared at Harry's pile of diced onions and garlic cloves.

"Satisfactory," Snape said as he took up the cutting board and Harry laughed lightly.

He sat there and watched the man sauté the onions and garlic, the aroma mixing with the cooking sausage and Harry stomach growled; he hadn't eaten much all day. After the onions and the garlic were done Snape mixed them into the meat along with a jar of what Harry could see was tomato sauce. As that was cooking Harry's next task was to grate the block of parmesan cheese into a small glass bowl in which he did so as the man, with protective cooking mitts (which made Harry snicker) took out the baked garlic bread that was golden brown now. The garlic butter had cooked into the bread.

Moments later after much walking about the kitchen from Snape who looked somewhat pestered, the used dishes and pans and the pot were in a pile in the sink and Harry and Snape were sat at the set dining table enjoying the meal they had prepared which to Harry's opinion was delicious. It was filling and to know they had made their dinner together, Harry would never forget Snape cooking in his kitchen. When their meal was done and their plates had been sent to the kitchen with a tap of Snape's wand Harry was surprised to see a small dessert plate appear in front of him. It was slice of Treacle Tart and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. He looked up and saw that Snape had his own plate of Harry's most favorite dessert.

"I made it earlier, I hope it is to your liking," Snape said softly.

Harry smiled brightly and took up his dessert spoon and took a bite of the tart. He was surprised as his taste buds seemed to dance. If it was possible this Treacle Tart was the best he had ever sampled. He wondered if Snape had ever tried the dessert as he watched the man take a small bite of his own.

"It's enjoyable," Snape said evenly as he set his spoon down upon the plate. Those dark eyes met his own and Harry didn't know why he blushed. Harry ate his dessert slowly as his heart beat quickened. His body felt somehow excited or embarrassed, he really couldn't tell.

When their plates and empty glasses were dismissed once more Snape led Harry to the sitting room where they sat down close to one another, relaxing for moments. Even if Harry's hunger had been satisfied another sort of hunger was taking over his senses. Snape's chest muscles were very noticeable from the form fitting shirt he wore and Harry knew if he were to touch the fabric it would be very soft. It was a moment before Snape leaned in and Harry turned his body to face Snape and their lips met gently. They kissed slowly for a few minutes and Harry tasted the sweetness of the dessert in the man's mouth that was hot. Snape's hands came to Harry's chest and slid down to rest upon his hips.

Snape was kissing him more deeply now, faster and Harry could feel the excited rush of desire being born in his body. Snape's hands quickly brought Harry's shirt up and Harry shivered. Those strong hands were caressing his back. Harry knew he should do something with his own hands as well; it was always Snape touching him but he hardly touched him in return and surely the man would welcome it, surely it was what he wanted but before Harry could decide Snape's hands grabbed his wrists tightly and brought Harry's hands upon the man's chest as they were still kissing, their tongues circling about together. The man's own hands returned to feeling sides. Harry's breath hitched as his hands could feel the strong form of Snape's chest. His hands were trembling as he moved them hesitantly, timidly. He was touching the man and all his hands wanted to do was feel the shapes of those muscles, the soft fabric, they glided over the buttons and were discouraged when they went lower, just above the man's stomach. The man's torso felt hard, strong and warm.

Snape came away quickly and breathlessly. He took off Harry's glasses and set them down hastily on the table and before Harry knew what the man was doing Snape had taken off Harry's shirt and it fell behind him. Harry's body was trembling softly as he felt those dark eyes roam around his exposed upper body.

"Harry…" Snape whispered.

Harry sat there, his hands pressing into the couch at his sides, his exposed chest rising and falling quickly, his lips dark, face flushed, and body trembling. His eyes were looking into those black orbs that were filled with a quick desire. Harry didn't know how to feel knowing that Snape wanted to do these things to him and how those eyes could be so attracted to him. He bit his lip. Harry wished he could say something, wished he could just talk to the man and that want, that need mixed with the arousal in his body.

"Touch me…" Harry's lips moved silently to those two words. "Please…touch me…" He knew Snape would understand.

And the man captured Harry's lips quickly and Harry's hands returned to the man's chest, a bit more confidently this time. They moved down over the man's muscles; he was surprised at how toned Snape's torso was. His fingertips brushed past the man's stomach and he felt it quiver slightly. Snape's body was much bigger than his own, much stronger, overpowering and for some reason this only excited Harry more.

It wasn't long before he was made to lie down upon the couch again and Snape had moved on top of Harry. He was kissing a long Harry's throat, sucking here and there softly, the man's tongue tracing over Harry's Adam's apple lightly. Harry trembled as his eyes were half open, staring at the upside down blurriness of the wall. His breath hitched as Snape had moved down to kissing Harry's chest, just above his heart. The hot tongue trailed down to his right nipple. Harry shut his eyes tightly as Snape's tongue swirled around it and those lips sucked on the light pink flesh gently. Snape's right hand was teasing Harry's left nipple as Harry bit his lip. Snape's lips danced over Harry's shadowed, soft skin and the muscles tensed and quivered. Harry's hands gripped the couch as Snape's tongue traced a slick line down to his navel.

Harry could feel his member growing harder as those lips planted a soft kiss on his heated skin before the button of his pants. Snape's hair tickled his stomach; his hands gliding down Harry's arms slowly, grabbing his wrists and Harry opened his eyes to see Snape coming on top of him once more, pressing Harry's wrists above his head with that strong left hand, and Harry felt Snape's body come flush against his own, leaning on his right elbow. Harry shut his eyes again as Snape was kissing him deeply and he listened to the noises the couch made.

It was then that Snape's groin pressed against Harry's own and Harry's breath caught within him and his eyes widened. His mind was barely able to process any thought but he knew he could feel it, he could feel the man's own arousal through both of their pants. Harry felt a great heat rush to his cheeks as he tried not to move. He didn't know what to feel besides embarrassment. Had he done that to the man? Snape's erection was so hard against Harry's own. Snape came away, his hand leaving Harry's wrists and Harry felt the heat that was between them vanish as the man was on his hands and knees once again.

Harry's eyes, through the slight blurriness, found the soft tinge of color in Snape's face. It was completely dark around them now, the only light coming from the crackling flames in the fireplace. It was so warm, so intimate, so good to just be with the man like this. He wanted to be like this together, here, where they were both lost for breath, silent and looking at each other. He watched the shadows and golden light skip across their bodies and his hands lifted up to the man's shirt collar and he clumsily undid the first button. Harry wanted to see what he hadn't yet seen, he wanted to touch Snape even though he was fully embarrassed and felt so inadequate compared to the man.

"Harry," Snape whispered softly.

Harry's blue eyes were dark and glistening, his lips trembling and parted slightly. Snape was always so kind to him, so gentle and caring, so helpful and he had made Harry feel so much pleasure the day before. His hands undid another button and they were shaking badly. He tried to tell Snape what he wanted to do, what he knew he was ready to do, through his gaze as those dark eyes, shadowed now in contrast with the lightly lit locks of his hair that framed the man's face. He knew his eyes probably looked afraid. He couldn't get the third button undone; his hands were too clumsy, too unskilled, too nervous.

Snape sat up on his knees quickly and Harry watched those fingers undo the buttons of his dress shirt and inch by inch Harry watched the man's chest being exposed and he blushed fiercely when the man's nipples were visible. Snape didn't take the shirt off as it was all the way open now and Harry's eyes moved up and down to see the exposed collarbone, the definite chest muscles, the toned torso, the hard stomach and the dips of the man's hips.

The man leaned in and their naked chests were brought together. Harry shut his eyes tightly as Snape's right hand was feeling up Harry's left thigh, making the tightness in his pants painful. The strong hand came to his inner thigh and Harry held his breath as Snape caressed it for many seconds before cupping Harry's erection, stroking it, rubbing up and down. Harry eyelids fluttered as a sweet pleasure rushed through his body that seemed to start all the way from his toes.

Snape was kissing and sucking upon his neck now and Harry was panting, his breath uneven and he let a silent moan escape him and again as Snape sucked harder upon his skin. Harry needed to focus though because he was supposed to be doing something too, he was supposed to be touching Snape instead of his hands doing nothing at his sides. He did his best to maneuver his right hand to come in-between their groins and he stretched his fingers that were shaking badly and shut his eyes tightly. He gathered his courage and gently brought his hand up to feel the man's erect member through Snape's slacks. Snape came away from Harry's neck quickly, stopping his intimate strokes of Harry's own arousal.

"Harry…you don't…" Snape said breathlessly as those black eyes searched Harry's own. "You don't have to…if you're not ready, don't feel pressured…"

Harry shook his head quickly. He might be inexperienced but he still wanted to try to give Snape the pleasures that the man had given him. He didn't think of anything else but the two of them, here together in this moment. If he thought of anything else, if he let anything else in he would surely lose his courage, his nerve to do anything to the man.

"Are you sure?" Snape whispered after a moment.

Harry nodded once, his eyes admiring Snape's face in the dark room's environment. Snape seemed to be hesitating as Harry's hand was hovering centimeters before the man's groin. He didn't want Snape to care about Harry's sake, he didn't want Snape to think about it, he just wanted the man to want it, to need it just as badly as he did right now.

"Here…" Snape said and his right hand came away from Harry's pants and Harry watched as the man undid his slack's button and unzipped his zipper, the man's knuckles grazing against Harry's outstretched palm. Harry's body trembled. Snape's eyes looked apprehensive through the darkness and glow of the firelight. They might have looked somewhat fearful. "Harry…are you sure?"

Although he had never touched someone like this before, touched another man like that and even though he was afraid and embarrassed and much younger than Snape, he felt a sudden determination within him, his heart was pounding in his chest, crashing within him, and he was sure. He was so attached to Snape, he was so obsessed with everything the man did and it should have been fanatical, foolish, perhaps twisted and wrong but he was gone, he was already gone and he had no desire to look back, not now, not when those eyes looked at him that way, just him, for Harry.

He nodded just twice. Snape's lips were parted, shining and dark. The black pools quivered slightly before his right hand took Harry's own, gently.

"I…I'll show you…" Snape's words were barely audible to Harry's ears.

He had never known that Snape could look vulnerable and he didn't know what to feel about that. Harry's hand shook softly as Snape led his hand under the man's boxers that felt like silk. Harry had to stop himself from flinching when his fingertips passed the man's hair down there, it was hot, the skin was hot and Harry couldn't help but glance away from Snape's gaze as his open hand was pressed up against something much hotter, thick and hard. Harry couldn't breathe and his eyes were looking at Snape. He might have been able to hear the man's racing heart, he didn't know because his own heart was about to burst. Harry let out a shuddered breath and bit his lip as he wrapped his hand around Snape's member. He was briefly aware that it was much bigger than his own.

"Like this Harry…" Snape whispered. His hand began to guide Harry's own to stroke the man's member.

Harry let out a short breath as his eyes were half open. It was a different sensation as the skin was slick against his palm, hot, almost pulsing. It was when he noticed the difference in the man's breathing that he began to grow more certain of this motion. Snape was breathing somewhat quicker and Harry found himself wondering what sort of noises Snape made when he was feeling this way and Harry's erection was now begging for attention as a rush of arousal was sent through him.

Snape's hand came away and Harry continued to stroke the man's member as Snape quickly unbuttoned Harry's trousers and tugged the zipper down and his hand swiftly went under Harry's boxers and Harry's back arched as Snape's heated hand took hold of his erection. Snape kissed Harry deeply and he didn't mind the weight of the man on top of him. He could barely hear the sounds of the couch as he was lost in the building pressure in his groin and he was stroking Snape fast, his palm sweaty and hot. Their tongues battled together and Harry moaned silently into their kiss. Snape's hand was stroking him quickly and somehow their hips were grinding against each other and it was slightly painful because Snape was heavy but the man was supporting himself on his left elbow, his hand entangled in Harry's hair, his fingertips moving through it now and again.

Their heavy breathing filled the room and the light of the fire made the perspiration on their skin visible. Harry could hardly think of anything, could hardly hear anything, all he could feel was the brilliant pleasure in his body, upon his skin, the desperation of it all, the speed of it, and their hearts beating frantically as one. Harry was lost in the man's body, the scent of it, the sensations, and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was making the man feel good, feel this pleasure and they were together like this, doing something so private, perhaps sinful. They thrived off one another in unison, he wasn't alone, he wasn't breaking anymore, he remained here with such a man and his left hand searched for Snape's own and the man quickly grasped it, pressing it harshly into the couch as their bodies moved together, their fingers were intertwined and it hurt as Snape was holding it so tightly. Snape's lips came away and Harry gasped for breath.

"Harry…Harry…" Snape breathed out. Through the blurriness and the dark Harry could see that Snape's eyes were closed. Harry knew he was almost there; he was rushing toward that edge again. "I…Harry…" And Harry climaxed and Snape hissed out a breath against Harry's neck as Harry's back arched once again and Snape's body stiffened, his muscles tensing. Harry was barely aware of the hot substance that spilled against his hand and wrist as he continued to stroke the man. His eyes were locked on the ceiling as the waves of pleasure rolled through his body that trembled. Snape's lips met his own, pressing harshly, greedily as Harry could barely breathe; Snape's hand had come to a slow caressing as the substance was wet against his skin.

Their uneven breathing calmed as the moments passed and Harry's awareness was returning. Snape's member was heavy in his hand and Harry pulled his hand away, out of the man's pants but kept it still upon his abdomen that was wet with either his or Snape's seed, he didn't know. His cheeks were burning. Snape came away, giving Harry one gentle kiss, and Harry closed his eyes, shivering, as he felt Snape use whatever spell to clean away the substance and it disappeared from Harry's palm and trembling fingertips as well as in his pants.

Harry watched vaguely as Snape was buttoning up his shirt quickly and doing up his pants. Snape's dark eyes fell over Harry's body and he slowly buttoned Harry's trousers and zipped them up.

"You really are stunning…" Snape said softly and he looked so easily composed. He got to his feet.

Harry felt dizzy and in a sort of disbelief at what they had just done.

"Are you thirsty?" Snape said with a slight smile.

Harry nodded.

"I'll be right back…"

Harry sat up slowly, his hand grabbing up his shirt numbly. His whole body tingled and he was suddenly cold as the sweat that had been upon his skin was now making him chilled. He put his shirt back on and tried not to think. He felt shy and inadequate again. Snape returned with two glasses of chilled pumpkin juice on a small tray and he set it upon the glass table and sat down next to Harry.

"You don't need to be embarrassed Harry…" Snape said gently.

"Did it…" Harry signed with trembling hands. He could only look at the fire. "Did it feel good?" He felt almost silly but it was really all he was worried about.

"Of course it did," Snape said lightly.

Harry took up his glass along with Snape and he drank for a moment and brought it away from him, setting it back on the tray. Harry felt Snape's fingertips brush his bangs softly and he looked at the man. Snape's hair looked somewhat windswept but Harry liked the slight wave in those dark locks.

"I really…really liked tonight…" Harry signed. "I…want to be with you…all the time…"

Snape just continued to stare at Harry; those black eyes shined with every movement as they searched Harry's expression. Harry smiled nervously and looked away.

"What's the matter?" Snape asked gently and placed his glass next to Harry's.

"It's nothing…" Harry signed and then looked down upon his hands. "I just wish I could talk to you…I mean, speak…to you...I want to hear myself talk to you…"

"Harry…don't worry over it…" Snape said in that velvety voice. "Come here, lie down."

Harry's body moved on its own as his head rested against Snape's lap, laying out his body on the comfortable couch; it was hard to believe this couch was more comfortable than his four-poster bed. His eyes closed as Snape's fingertips moved softly through his hair. He was tired and relaxed now; his mind clouded with the lit up images of their intimate moments with one another. They stayed like this for many moments and Harry found himself wishing it wouldn't end, that he wouldn't have to go back to Gryffindor Tower; that he could remain like this. As the minutes passed and he kept falling into sleep and surfacing from it he tried to believe he didn't have any such responsibilities, that the two of them didn't have titles, or images to keep, that he didn't have to lie, that he was in a world where everyone accepted them together and there were no evils to quarrel with, to be afraid of, to stop them from being happy.

But time would not stop for him and the universe would not change for him and he was soon in the restroom again with Snape and admiring the dark bruise upon his neck, this one had been bigger than the first but it was soon gone as the man applied the salve. Harry was happy to have one just above his heart, it was small but he could keep it at least. He could smell the man's cologne more strongly upon him since their chests had been naked against each other. Snape looked him over, fixing Harry's hair and with his glasses he could see Snape a lot clearer, the man's lips were still darker from so much of their kissing and his dress shirt was a bit wrinkled. Harry didn't know why but he liked the way they looked together in the mirror. He was leaning back slightly against Snape's front staring at their reflection.

"Harry…" Snape said in a soft tone but Harry caught the slight worry in those black eyes.

"What is it?" Harry signed and he turned around to look up at the man, placing his hands on the counter.

"The Headmaster requires your presence in his office tomorrow morning at eight thirty," Snape answered and his eyes glanced down at him, his expression too calm.

Harry pressed his lips together and looked forward at the mirror again and then his eyes fell to his hands. He didn't know if Snape knew why Dumbledore wanted to see him and Harry was once again feeling guilty for trying to block out reality and for once again becoming comfortable with the fact that he was mute. Yes, he wanted to speak again but perhaps he wasn't ready to face whatever it was that was keeping him from using his voice. Harry didn't think he was ready for much of anything that had to deal with Voldemort right now either.

He had been so lost in being with Snape again, so distracted like before and even though he had realized this long ago, even though he had wanted to get back on track into recovering he still found his mind locked on Snape. It was beginning to torture him because he wanted to be happy, to have fun, to enjoy himself but it wouldn't do him any sort of good in the end, in the end where he would be responsible for whatever job he had to do to find Voldemort's weakness and to find his voice. Was he selfish? He was because he truly just wanted to forget it all, all the murders, the night in Little Hangleton graveyard, the night in the Department of Mysteries, all of it, even the reason why he had no parents, and that was selfish, it was cruel really.

He couldn't lose all of that, he couldn't let go of all of that because that was the reason why he fought, he had something worth fighting for. His eyes looked up at Snape's reflection. Maybe he could fight for Snape too; maybe he could find a way to carry it all, to fight for it all. He wanted to keep the man happy, safe, and if he could, if he really could he would keep Snape away from Voldemort but that was just the one thing he couldn't do and that somehow bothered him the most, made him worry, made him doubt their future if they had one to begin with.

"It will be alright," Snape whispered in his ear.

Harry could only nod and lean against him again. He could only wish it would be true, that together they would last, that they would remain alright, and that they could possibly face it together because they had found each other somehow, found the courage to admit it to one another of how they felt. So maybe, just maybe the universe would find a place for the two of them someday.

* * *

It was raining when Harry woke up on Monday morning feeling slightly groggy. He showered and dressed in his uniform, buttoning up his Gryffindor cardigan and doing up the laces on his school shoes. He put on his robes and woke up Ron who had slept in. He took up his school bag and headed down to the common room where Hermione was waiting for him by the entrance where many Gryffindors were heading off to breakfast.

"Good morning," Hermione said nicely.

"Morning," Harry signed.

"Are you ok?" Hermione asked as they clambered out of the portrait hole.

"Sort of…" Harry signed.

"Are you worried about what Dumbledore wants to see you about?" she said quickly.

Harry nodded as he walked, looking down at his shoes.

"Maybe it's just another memory," Hermione suggested.

Harry nodded again, barely paying attention to the staircases they were walking down in the crowd of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

"Snape didn't say anything more about it?" Hermione asked.

Harry glanced at her and wondered why she would mention the man. He couldn't help but get a strange feeling around the girl whenever Snape would come up in conversation.

"No…" Harry signed and wished he didn't feel so suddenly stressed. He caught a glimpse of Cho in front of them. "Hey, please sit next to me…"

Hermione gave him a look but said:

"Sure…"

Harry made sure to sit close to Hermione when they arrived in the Great Hall and he was relieved when Seamus sat on his other side. Harry realized how close they were to October already and it didn't help his mood. Days just kept going by and he still wasn't able to speak. He ate his cereal as he stared blankly out of one of the large windows at the rain. He missed the sun even though he didn't mind the cold. He was barely done with breakfast when Hermione was saying:

"Harry, Professor Snape's not here to take you, do you want me to walk with you?"

Harry glanced up at the Staff table and it was true, the man wasn't there. He tried not to think of the reason why as he nodded to Hermione and they got up with their school bags and began to walk to the Headmaster's office. Harry's heart beat sped up instantly when he stood before the statue of the gargoyle. He took a deep breath.

"Harry, you'll be alright," Hermione said gently. "Acid Pops. I'll see you in Charms."

He waved to her and jumped on one the steps as the staircase rose up. He didn't knock as he just turned the door's knob and was met with the familiar setting of Professor Dumbledore's office. The man was at his desk, standing as a tea pot was floating in the air pouring tea into the cup before the chair that Harry was supposed to sit in.

"Harry, good morning," Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully. Harry walked forward nervously, his hands gripping at his bag's strap. "Do sit down." The tea pot set itself gently back upon the desk.

Harry sat and his eyes glanced up at the man's shiny blue robes and the silver of the ornament that was tide at the end of the man's white beard. He almost flinched at the site of those blackened fingers and he was sure they looked worse this time and it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

"I hope you have had a good weekend," Dumbledore spoke softly as he sat down. "Do make yourself comfortable, you have your tea and I have some toffee here as well…"

Harry put his school bag gently on the floor, the toes of his shoes brushing the ground as he straightened himself in the large chair.

"How are you, sir?" Harry signed as his eyes met those that were much older than his; the light blue twinkled and there was something about the man's expression that told Harry he wasn't going to enjoy whatever Dumbledore was going to speak to him about.

"I am well, Harry," the man answered quickly with a nod of his head making the tassels on his blue hat sway a bit.

"Good…" Harry signed without looking at the man.

"I must assume this won't be easy for you Harry…to listen to what I probably should have told you during summer…" the man began and Harry kept his eyes on the light golden tea with the hot steam rising from the cup. "Ms. Gardiner advised that I should tell you, that I shouldn't prolong this bit of information anymore…"

Harry waited and the ache in his chest felt heavier than ever and he just wanted to leave; he really was pathetic.

"We discovered Sirius's will during summer," Dumbledore's voice was straightforward. "He left you everything he owned."

Harry's jaw tightened and his hands pressed into the cushion of the chair. His heart thudded against his chest and he honestly wished it wasn't this man telling him such a thing, that it was anyone else, Ms. Gardiner, even Snape.

"A reasonable amount of gold has been added to your account at Gringotts and you have inherited all of Sirius's personal possessions. There is a slight problem with part of the legacy…" Dumbledore spoke gently and Harry's eyes lifted just barely. "Our problem is that Sirius left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Harry felt the familiar pinch in his chest as he listened to the Headmaster's words. He could remember the dream he had of being in that haunted place, those dark, dusty rooms, of always remembering Sirius walking about the place, of realizing just how much he had wanted to talk to him, about anything, just normal conversations, remembering just how much he enjoyed talking to him, enjoyed that bark of laughter, of the way he was so different than his family, so rebellious, of how he had been the light to Harry in times of darkness.

"Are you still using it as headquarters for the Order?" Harry signed with shaking hands.

"We have vacated the building for now," Dumbledore answered lightly.

"Why?" Harry signed and he could feel the lump in his throat.

"Well, Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly clear that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by another other than a pureblood," the man explained and Harry listened to the soft rise and fall of those words.

"If such an enchantment exists," Dumbledore continued, "then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry's eyes widened and his hands felt like they had gone numb and he stared at Dumbledore and a sudden anger spiked up within him.

"No, she can't…" Harry began to sign.

"We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership had passed from Sirius's hands. We have kept surveillance on the house since we found the will to see if Bellatrix would turn up unexpectedly but so far she has not," Dumbledore spoke quickly and calmly as his hands were folded upon his desk.

"So how will you find out if I am allowed to own it?" Harry signed, his eyes somewhat pained.

"There is a simple test," Dumbledore said. "However because of your condition I'm afraid we will not be able to know just yet if you have inherited the house."

"What do you mean?" Harry signed.

"Well, if you have inherited the house that means you have inherited the family's house-elf, Kreacher," the man said, his voice still calm. "The way to see if Kreacher has passed into your ownership is for you to be able to give him an order and he would have no choice but to obey you…"

Harry's eyes looked down with a somewhat disgusted expression as he thought of the house-elf. He quickly understood why he wouldn't be able to give Kreacher an order.

"You do not need to worry yourself over this Harry," Dumbledore spoke softly. "We have other ways to ensure that Kreacher does not leave the house as well as keeping information about the Order of the Phoenix safe."

"I'm sorry," Harry signed before he could stop himself.

"Harry, don't apologize for your muteness. We have taken the necessary precautions," Dumbledore said gently. "There is no use in blaming yourself."

Harry couldn't meet the man's eyes as he held onto the chair's arms tightly. His thoughts were wandering, conflicted and detached and he tried not to think of Sirius, tried not to think of so many missed opportunities, tried not to think of how guilty he was knowing how trapped the man had felt in that house, how lonely he had been, how it must have felt as if he were locked up again. He should have stayed with the man, stayed with his godfather, gotten to know him better but he had to leave. He couldn't help but remember that day where he had decided to go save Sirius and those words played over and over: go, stay, go, stay, go, stay…

"Harry…" Dumbledore said.

His eyes burned and he just forced himself to breathe. It was hard to talk about Sirius. To acknowledge over and over that he was gone, dead. As if every day he would wake up and realize it for the first time and it wouldn't hurt any less or if it did he couldn't tell the difference. It was useless to wallow in it, pathetic. It was irreversible, he knew that, death was a permanent thing but oh how it tormented him. He couldn't hide away; he couldn't replace that memory with something else, something less painful.

"Was…there anything else?" Harry signed numbly, his vision shaking.

"There is the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak," Dumbledore spoke with a light tone. "Hagrid is looking after him in the Forbidden Forest, but if you would prefer to make different arrangements—"

"No, he can stay with Hagrid…" Harry signed with trembling fingers. He felt exhausted, his head hurt and his heart kept quivering in his chest. He didn't know if he was angry or sad or miserable but he felt stuck and cold and the ache in his chest was becoming unbearable. Why couldn't he just stop feeling like this? Why couldn't he just get over it? He didn't know where to go, he didn't have any direction or path or anyone to answer any of his questions.

"Harry, I am sorry…" Dumbledore began.

"No, it's fine," Harry signed quickly. And for some reason in this moment he truly felt disabled. "I have to get better; Sirius wouldn't want me to be like this…Life's too short…" He could hardly breathe as his eyes found the sleeping phoenix on its perch and then stared hazily upon Dumbledore. He felt dizzy and suddenly nauseous. The man was looking at him with an apologetic gaze. "Can I go please?"

"Harry if you need…" Dumbledore started.

"I just need to go," Harry signed, fidgeting in his chair.

"Of course," the man said too softly.

Harry got up from the chair quickly, almost forgetting his school bag and almost tripping over the leg of the chair and he hurried to the door and tugged at the knob and stumbled down the stairs. He caught himself on the wall of the corridor with his hand, bowing his body slightly, gasping for breath and willing himself not to sick up. Everything was spinning and he felt like spinning with it, he felt like he was going mad, everything was so mixed up inside of him. How could he let himself be happy? How could he let himself indulge in whatever sort of relationship he had with Snape? How when all this was going on within him, when all of this was raging inside him and still, still Snape filled his thoughts. He didn't know what to do; he didn't know what he felt about Snape except for that he cared greatly for the man. How could he actually forget about Sirius when he was with Snape? He was ashamed and that guilt riddled down on him, ate at him. He had been lying to himself to think he could handle all of it, could try to protect Snape when he could barely stop himself from losing it.

He was hopeless. His constantly shaking hands were proof of it. What would his godfather think of him? To know that he had let Snape do such things to him and he had done the same and he had wanted, still wanted it to go on, to keep going with Snape, to feel like he belonged with him. He was torn again and it was too much. He was afraid but Snape was always there with him, constantly against this ache in his chest and they lived together inside him. Snape and Sirius, did he really have to choose? Sirius was dead. Snape wasn't. And yet he had no desire to let go of either of them. He was confused and he didn't know what was right even if he felt so right when he was with Snape.

Harry rubbed at his forehead as his head pained him. He straightened himself and walked without really knowing where he was going. He ignored those who greeted him as he passed them in the corridors. He was falling apart again or maybe he was never whole in the first place. He wanted to talk to Snape but he didn't want to bother the man with his problems and he was probably teaching at the moment anyway. He didn't want to see anyone else and he walked to the Charms classroom and waited, leaning against the wall. His head was still paining him, the constant throb refusing to lessen.

He stood there as the world around him wavered on and students passed him now and again, cloaks picked up by the speed of their walking, bags swinging, school shoes making light footsteps, radish earrings bouncing…Harry's eyes snapped up quickly to see Luna Lovegood smiling softly at him and the blue of the inner part of her cloak caught his eyes before they settled on the girl's own silvery gray ones.

"Hello Harry Potter," Luna spoke in that wispy tone.

"Hi Luna," Harry signed as the girl's presence seemed to calm him. He realized Professor Flitwick's first class was being let out and Luna must be a part of it. He briefly caught Ginny's glance as she walked passed them.

"You look a little down, are you feeling ok?" Luna said as she played with her Nargle charm necklace.

"Just a headache," Harry signed.

"It could be the rain, I myself tend to feel a bit tired when it rains, but I suppose everyone's like that," Luna said.

Harry didn't know how he could smile at the moment but he did just slightly.

"You know, I really miss the D.A. meetings," Luna spoke softly. "But Professor Royle knows how to make Defense sort of fun…He has an admirable personality, wouldn't you say so?"

Harry nodded.

"His eyes remind me of yours," Luna said.

Harry gave Luna a somewhat confused expression. Luna took Harry's right hand in her own kindly. Her skin was soft and warm.

"They've seen a lot of sorrow but they're quite kind," Luna said and she smiled again. "I hope you feel better." And she was off; skipping down the corridor like Harry had seen her do so many times before. He didn't know what to think but somehow he always managed to connect with the girl despite her quirks. He looked down at his shoes for minutes.

"Hey mate," Ron greeted. "You alright?"

Harry looked up to see Ron and Hermione standing together.

"So…what happened?" Hermione asked quickly and Harry knew she had been worrying over him.

"Nothing…just…Sirius…" Harry's eyes fell as he signed. "Dumbledore went over his will…"

"Oh…" was all Hermione managed as her eyes broadened slightly and she looked repentant.

Ron was silent and looked over at Lavender Brown who came up to them with Parvarti, Neville and Seamus.

"Harry…" Hermione started but it was then that the classroom door opened and students began to file in, brushing passed Ron and Hermione who stepped toward Harry.

"It's fine…" Harry signed and turned and walked into the Charms classroom.

He sat down and Ron sat next to him. He hardly paid attention to whatever lesson they were going over. Professor Flitwick was giving them a lecture and Harry just drew here and there in his notebook with his pen, his aching head resting against his left hand. It was a while before he realized he was drawing a dog in the black ink. He turned the page quickly and did his best to pay attention to the rest of the lesson.

When he sat at the Gryffindor table at lunch Hermione and Ron were sitting across from him. Harry's head was hurting far worse than before and he could barely stomach his turkey and cheese sandwich. He knew Hermione and Ron wanted to ask him about what had happened in Dumbledore's office but he just didn't have it him to tell them. He drank some cold water which made his head pound more and then the pain eased just barely.

"Harry, you should go see Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said softly.

"I'm alright…" Harry signed and shut his eyes tightly against the pain.

The ring of the bell made him clamp his hands over his ears. The light in the Great Hall was painful to his eyes. He walked with unsteady steps next to Hermione to the dungeons. Even though the Potions room was quiet and dim Harry's throbbing head ache did not dissipate. He barely looked at Snape who was standing at the front of class. He collected their essays and had them all working in pairs on identifying a vial of poison that he gave to each group and their task was to brew the correct antidote.

Harry could barely keep his eyes open as wearing his glasses made the throbbing ache in his head worse. Any shine of light stung his eyes. Hermione was working diligently and carefully with the certain poison. Harry was barely aware that she had already started brewing the antidote. He knew he should probably go the nurse or tell Snape or something because he could barely think straight and he was growing more nauseous by the passing minutes. When he seemed about ready to pass out their time was up and Hermione brought both labeled vials up with a few other students who managed to finish on time.

The noises of the scraping stools and clatter of scales and beakers made his brain want to explode. He rubbed his aching head as Hermione spelled their workbench clean.

"Harry…" Hermione whispered and Harry hardly heard her voice through the noise of students leaving the classroom as Snape had dismissed them. "Tell Snape, he'll help you…" And she was gone from his side, out the door and the classroom was empty. His head felt heavy as did his arms and hands that were trying to put away his things. He flinched when a cold hand took hold of his own.

"Harry…"

Snape's black eyes came into his heated vision. A cold hand came to his forehead and without knowing he leaned into the sudden slight relief that it brought to the horrible pain.

"You're burning up," Snape said quickly but the man's voice seemed far away. The cold hands came away and he heard footsteps, a door opening and after a moment more footsteps and Snape's eyes were in front of him again.

"Take this," Snape said and Harry hazily watched those hands open a small vial. He tried to focus his eyes and to make his hands grab the thing but he could feel the darkness forming at the corners of his vision. "Here…" That cold hand was on him again, under his chin, tilting it up somewhat. "Swallow, Harry." Something came to his parted lips and a bitter tasting liquid was poured down his throat. He shut his eyes tightly against the taste as he forced himself to swallow it. Snape's hand returned to his forehead and in moments the pain in his head and the heat in his face ebbed away but didn't disappear completely. His head felt much clearer and he was aware of exactly where he was.

"Why did you come to class if you felt this way?" Snape asked as he brushed aside Harry's bangs. "What happened this morning?"

Harry waited for a moment as he stared in the man's eyes. He was happy to see Snape, to know that he cared but it did nothing to fix the mood he was in.

"Dumbledore…went over my godfather's will…" Harry signed slowly.

There was a flash of some emotion Harry couldn't catch in Snape's eyes.

"And it upset you of course," Snape said softly as he straightened himself and now Harry was staring up at the man.

Harry could do nothing but nod.

"I understand if you do not wish to talk about it," Snape said lightly. "I do not want to put any more stress on you."

"How are you?" Harry signed as he was looking at the man's shiny shoes.

"Harry…" Snape said.

Harry's eyes lifted to see the man's worried expression. He just wanted to keep ignoring it, his problems, he just wanted to enjoy being with Snape but he knew he would never recover if he didn't try to face what was wrong; he couldn't pretend anymore and he didn't know when he had started pretending that he was ok; as if the great guilt that was over him wasn't there.

"Harry, listen, you need to get some rest," Snape said softly. "If you start to feel worse go to the Hospital Wing or come to my office, alright?"

Harry was looking into those black eyes remembering things from long ago that he didn't want to remember.

"Kiss me," Harry signed, his lips making those two words clear.

"Harry you…" Snape started. The look in his eyes was somewhat stern.

"Kiss me," Harry signed, his eyes looked a bit desperate. "Please…"

Snape closed his eyes and when he opened them he placed his hands upon the sides of Harry's face and leaned in. Harry closed his eyes slowly when Snape's lips blanketed his own. His heart quivered against the deep ache in his chest. Snape came away and Harry looked at the floor as the man began to put his things back in Harry's school bag silently.

"You need to rest and I will see you tonight," Snape spoke gently.

Harry nodded and took his school bag from the man and got to his feet. He walked quickly out of the classroom and hurried back to the Great Hall where he found Ron and Hermione waiting for him. They walked in silence back to the common room where Harry ignored the glances he received and went up to the boy's dormitory. He took off his robe and loosened his tie and toed off his shoes and placed his glasses on his bedside table. He laid down on his back and shut his eyes.

He had tried to be sure of things, of himself but he knew he wasn't there yet. Was he always going to feel guilty? Guilty over his godfather? Over being happy? Would these horrible feelings continue to consume him and would he really go mad from it? He didn't know a time where he had been more conflicted. He could remember when he was 13 and he hadn't known whether to believe if Sirius was telling the truth or not in the Shrieking Shack. If only he had been able to keep Peter Pettigrew from escaping, if only…then Sirius would have been a free man, innocent and he wouldn't have been kept up in that dark house…And Snape…

Harry turned to his side and curled up, holding his knees with his hands, his eyes half open. Snape would still hate him. It was no use to dwell on the past, to dwell on what ifs; he had told himself this already. He shut his eyes tightly and could barely hear the music that was now coming from the common room. He should be stronger than this but maybe his strength had all but disappeared that night when Sirius had died, maybe his bravery had been scared away by the truth. He couldn't save anyone, he wasn't a hero; if only he could have realized that years ago.

* * *

It was dark when Harry opened his eyes and the sound of rain met his ears. He sat up slowly. His head was throbbing dully. He reached for his glasses and put them on and read the small clock on the table. His eyes widened when he realized it was 7:30 at night. Harry cursed in his head and looked around at his empty dorm. He quickly put his shoes back on, wondering why Ron hadn't woke him and rushed down to the deserted common room. He hurried out of the portrait hole and the pounding of his footsteps sent a sharp pain to his head.

He was out of breath when he came to the dungeons and hurried to Snape's office door. His hands were on his knees as he tried to calm his gasping breaths, his face fevered. He hadn't ever been late to his lessons. He knocked on the man's door quickly. Snape opened it after a moment and looked down. Harry tried to straighten his cardigan and tie, his hands shaking lightly. Snape said nothing as he let Harry in. When the door was closed Harry turned to face the man who came forward and Harry almost flinched when Snape's hand rested against his forehead.

"You have a fever again," Snape said. "Are you in pain?" The hand came away.

"I'm ok…" Harry began to sign.

"Don't lie to me, Harry," Snape said and took quick strides over to the many shelves and took up a small vial from a set of similar ones.

"Do you feel nauseous?" the man asked quickly as he walked over to Harry's side.

Harry looked down.

"I'm sorry I'm late…" Harry signed.

Snape let out an irritated sigh.

"You were not at dinner, it was obvious you were sleeping still, I do not care for your tardiness, I care for your well being but if you wish to ignore your declining health that's your prerogative," Snape spoke clearly and firmly. "You have a fever. Now answer me, do you feel nauseous?"

Harry took a breath and nodded once.

"Thank you," Snape said and went back to the shelf and picked up another small vial. He took the chair by his desk and set it by Harry. "Sit."

Harry sat down reluctantly.

"Take these, I will bring you something to drink," the man said as he handed Harry the two tiny bottles of potions.

Snape walked off through the door that led to his private quarters and Harry took the bitter tasting potions. Even though he had slept for a few hours he still felt exhausted. His stomach was feeling better now and his head felt as if it were being numbed. Snape returned with a glass of chilled juice. He took the empty vials from Harry who took the glass and drank from it slowly.

"Harry, you can't bottle everything inside of you, you can't ignore your feelings, especially when you're with me," Snape's voice was caressing.

Harry brought the glass down.

"You don't have to listen to me, Harry but you must know you can talk to me about how you feel, you must know how much I care for you," Snape said in almost a whisper.

Harry's body was trembling softly and his eyes were staring down at the glass in his hands. He set the glass on the man's desk behind him and turned back to face Snape who stood a few feet away from him. He breathed in deeply, his heart shaking.

"Have you ever lost someone you loved?" Harry signed and he didn't want to stop himself.

The silence from Snape was agony to him. He looked up to see Snape's black eyes; that face that always looked so composed but there was something in that black, something deep and old. Harry's eyes were pained, tired, waiting, but he was so frustrated with how much time he had wasted, with how much he had just let himself wallow in self-pity, of how much he had truly felt worthless and he wanted to scream, if he could just scream he would feel better, he knew he would.

"Have you ever lost someone you loved?" Harry signed more forcibly this time.

"We are not talking about me," Snape said and his voice sounded somewhat strained.

"It's a simple question," Harry signed and gritted his teeth and he did not know where the anger he felt now was coming from.

"I said this is not about me; we are talking about you and the way _you_ feel, if you want to keep avoiding the pain that you are in, fine, but you are unfit for your lesson tonight…" Snape said sharply and quickly.

"Sure, so it's only me who has to talk, to spill it all out because I'm obligated to do so because I'm the one with the problem," Harry signed, his face contorted with anger. "And despite what we've done together, despite whatever we are together, you don't have the decency to do the same."

"I'm not saying you _have_ to tell me what's wrong…" Snape started, his voice rising.

"Oh stop it," Harry signed, his eyes blazing with resentment. "Stop trying to turn my words around so that they suit you, like you've always done. If you don't want to open up, that's fine, but forgive me for thinking I was someone you could open up to." Harry was on his feet now, his body trembling and everything inside of him was so mixed up. Here he was going down the same familiar road of anger and frustration, of hate and desperation. Wasn't he supposed to be kind to Snape, didn't he like Snape, didn't he want Snape to always stay by his side? His head was filled with the memories of the night before but he didn't know what to believe in.

"Harry…I…There are some things you need to respect…" Snape began and his voice was shaking slightly.

"Respect?" Harry signed angrily. He was getting too worked up, too emotional, all of these mixed feelings were like a storm inside of him. He turned around and swiftly kicked the wooden chair aside and it collided with the wall. He swiped his right hand against the glass and it was flung to the floor, shattering loudly. The pieces of glass and liquid glistened from the firelight.

"Harry!" Snape said but the man looked as if he was so unsure of what to do.

Harry's fists were clenched and all he felt like doing was destroying something again, to start throwing things just to see them break but he was trying to breathe, almost gasping. He was so lost, so miserable and he was trying to make sense of the way he felt, trying to stop himself from drowning again, trying to find himself in all the horrible, awful feelings and frantic pain he was in. Why did death affect him so? It was a part of life, didn't Ms. Gardiner say that, didn't she say it's what everyone tries to prepare themselves for? But all he had wanted that night was to die; all he had wanted was to be with Sirius again and now here he was trying to forget about it all.

Harry turned around to face the man and he couldn't read Snape's expression and those black eyes were gleaming, dark shadows were cast over both their forms from the light of the fire. The ache in Harry's chest hurt, the deep buried hole was making him breathless and he suddenly felt like this office was too small, too full of strangled memories where his shouting voice had once existed; where Snape had shouted just as strongly; just as cruelly, perhaps more so.

"I'm tired…" Harry signed and his blue eyes were dark and full of despair. "I'm tired of feeling so desperate all the time and of these damn hands always shaking, I'm tired of talking about the way I feel." His lips trembled with anger. "I want you to hear me, to hear my words."

"Harry I do hear them…" Snape's voice was a cold whisper like the wind.

"No!" Harry signed harshly. "No one does, no one understands because I don't know the answer, I don't know how to fix this and it's like everyone expects me to just start speaking again. They're all just waiting—"

"Harry…"

"Shut up! I see it in your eyes; I see how disappointed you look. I know how much you want to be the one to cure me, to help me but it's not enough," Harry signed and his breathing was ragged, his face flushed, his eyes watering. "I don't know the answer and it just feels like I want to just give in, to stop fighting, I'm so tired…"

"Harry…please," Snape said and there was a desperation in his voice. "If you couldn't speak again, if you couldn't get better, I wouldn't care Harry, I do not care in whatever way you communicate with me, I care for you too much to let something like that…"

"You're lying…" Harry signed, his eyes shining and pained.

Snape was silenced and Harry's vision was blurred by tears.

"Do you know how stupid I feel?" Harry signed, his features growing calmer, his hands trembling as much as his body. "How different I feel? It's not like I was born this way, nothing is messed up inside me, nothing is stopping me from using my voice but my own guilt and I'm so pathetic that I can't face it…"

"You are not pathetic," Snape said quickly. "You've suffered a devastating trauma…"

"I know that," Harry signed. He was frustrated of the sounds in the room. Of the silent office filled with the sounds of the fire, of Snape's voice, of his hands smacking together and his soundless words. His throat ached. "I'm a victim, a patient, a special case." His eyes were full of disgust.

Snape was beginning to look worn.

"Harry, I am sorry that I cannot give you the answers…I can't force you to confront how you feel, I don't want to damage you further or make it worse. Please, just calm down…" Snape said.

Harry was shaking his head. He felt as if he had gone back to that first day of his therapy sessions and he didn't care if he was dramatizing his situation because he truly felt like he was suffering and his heart was so conflicted with anger and sorrow and guilt and passion and desire because even now he wanted to be with Snape, to just forget it all, forget the argument, all he wanted was to get close to Snape and kiss him and this was too much, this frightened him beyond reason and he bolted to the door.

"Harry!" he heard Snape call after him.

But Harry was gone, out of the office, running as fast as he could through the cold dungeon passage ways and up the spiral staircase, banging into Slytherins who were making their way down from dinner. He ran without seeing anything, just following his feet and before he knew it he was clambering through the portrait hole into the common room, getting ahead of Gryffindors who were before him, pushing them and rushing upstairs to the boy's dorm.

He rid himself of all he was wearing except for his boxers and he rushed into the boy's restroom, grabbing a towel from a pile. He stripped off his boxers and stepped into a shower stall, closing the door and hanging his towel over it. He turned the water on and the spray was freezing at first but Harry didn't care. He stood under the spray of water as it grew hot and he didn't know how long he had stood there. Harry knew he had done it to himself, had made all of these choices and whether or not they had been mistakes he didn't care.

He was too exhausted and confused. Who could possibly help him when he was like this? He just wanted to go somewhere, to get away from everyone and everything. Yesterday, yesterday seemed so long ago, as if the Harry that lived in yesterday was not the Harry that stood here now. There was no one to blame. He couldn't even blame Dumbledore for igniting the fire within him because he was quite sure that it would have happened sooner or later, that he would have realized it sooner or later; that he had been trying to use Snape as a way of forgetting reality, a reason to be happy, to put an end to the misery and depression. Yes Snape had helped him, had been kind, had been a distraction, had made him so happy, made him feel good, pleasured, but despite what he wanted, despite the wishful thinking and stolen hours, he was still mute, still grieving, still guilty, and still lost.

He showered slowly, washing himself, feeling himself, his body, his livelihood, his skin, his warmth, his existence. His mind was racing with memories that his body swayed to as he listened to them, listened to the faint piano music that he had grown so fond of. If only he could just stand still, if only he could get it together, pick up all the shattered pieces and put them all right again, mend the cracks, fill the holes, bridge the gaps, be himself again. Where had he gone? Where had the boy gone, that boy in those memories long ago? Was that what he had been doing? Was he really just trying to catch up with himself? Was that the answer? Had he split in two? Was time leaving him behind just like his parents always did in those dreams? Was that all he was capable of doing? Just trying to reach those who were long gone, dead, their hourglasses spent, leaving behind their marks in history however small? Where was Sirius? What legacy did the man leave behind?

_And that's all I have left of you…memories I don't have the courage to reminisce over, your money, your belongings…but I don't have you, I just want you here with me…_ Harry's thoughts seemed to waste away along with the draining soap from his body and the water. He turned the water off and stepped out. He grabbed his towel, wrapped it around his waist and went up to one of the many mirrors in the white tiled restroom.

He took off his glasses that he had kept on and wiped away the steam. He placed them back on and his eyes noticed the small mark on his chest, above his heart, what Snape had given him. He didn't want to care for it. Harry went back to his dorm and the only light came from the open door that led to the stairs. He dressed in a soft cotton gray shirt and blue and white plaid pajama pants. He toweled dried his wet hair. Ron had come in just then.

"Hey, you alright mate?" Ron said as he began to take of his robes and tie.

Harry nodded. His body felt so numb now.

"I'm going to hang out in the common room for a bit, you want to come down?" Ron said lightly.

Harry shook his head as he dressed down his bed.

"Well…good night, Harry…" Ron said.

Harry didn't reply as he got in bed and laid down on his side, pulling the covers over him. He listened to Ron's footsteps before shutting his eyes and he begged sleep would take him soon.

He was dreaming of darkness, of beings that existed in this darkness, he was afraid of it, afraid of the truth, of what was waiting for him because he knew something was after him, trying to capture him, to murder him. And that voice, cold and cryptic and evil filled his senses, whispering things, horrible things, laughing, a high pitched laughter that belonged to a woman, she was somewhere by him, her voice tortured him as it bragged, cackled, and he just didn't know why things were so dark, so evil, why was there evil here? Why did it exist? Was it really just here to be able to recognize what was good?

"How lies have fed your legend, Harry." The demon's voice was so alive inside of him.

"Astounding what a few drops of your blood will do, eh, Harry?"

He could hear his ragged breathing and flashes of that graveyard swam up through the darkness, a glint of the Triwizard cup; the dead look in Cedric Diggory's eyes, the screams, his screams, the choking feeling…And the scene was gone in smoke and smeared colors and the green and black stone of the atrium was back and Dumbledore was there and the lights were so bright as Voldemort was the old wizard's opponent. The flashes of fire were so brilliant, the sounds so loud, the glass shattering all around them and he had been so afraid then…

"You have to mean it, Harry. You know the spell. She killed him. She _deserves_ it."

Time seemed to rewind itself and he was back on that platform and Sirius's body was arched, falling through the Veil, gone forever and Harry had screamed in such agony then. He caught the face of Bellatrix, her head shaking slowly as she was disappearing through the shadows. And he was running through the streaks of light, running after her blindly wanting nothing more than to make everything stop, to stop time, to reverse the world, to go back.

And hands were grabbing at him, forcing him to the ground that felt like ice, touching him so harshly, making him cry out in pain as those hands ripped at him, at his clothes, his skin, his hair and he begged for it to stop, for everything to just stop…and it did and he was lying on his back, his body basked in a warm glow from a fire and a man was on top of him, dressed in black, hair so black, eyes so richly black, his heart was racing, the sound filled up all that he was and those hands were touching him everywhere, pulling at his clothes to expose his skin and Harry struggled against them, tried to make them stop, tried to stop his desire and then he was falling through the darkness, leaving those hands, leaving the burning fire, and he heard voices, soft cries, a little boy, a baby perhaps and a woman, a gentle, caring woman with eyes like his and such beautiful red hair and she was smiling, her eyes filled with tears and he was in a room, a colorful room and there were bars before him, wooden bars of a crib, and his eyes had looked up to see the slow spinning of the baby mobile.

"Harry…" Her voice was like a song. "Mama loves you, Daddy loves you…" Those eyes looked so kind, so beautiful, so caring.

And there was warmth around him and a blinding flash of green light.

Harry gasped as his eyes snapped open. His body was trembling, covered in a thin layer of sweat and the blankets of the bed were twisted around his legs. He was shuddering out his breath, swallowing as his throat felt dry. His eyes were wet and wide and the dorm was dark, silent. And there was one thing that was so horrible about him; his head ached far worse than in Potions class. He brought his hands to his face and gritted his teeth. He begged for the pain to go away but it was relentless, hammering inside his skull. He slowly sat up. He felt sick and disoriented.

Harry could only think of one thing to do and that was to get some sort of help because the pain was unbearable. He freed his legs of the blankets and planted his bare feet on the ground and looked for a pair of trainers. He found his gray and white ones and slipped them on, barely seeing what he was doing. He remembered his glasses and found them at his bedside. The clock's hands were together; it was 12 midnight. He didn't care for the time; he just cared for some sort of relief from this sickening pain. He stood and steadied himself. Everyone was sound asleep. Harry briefly envied them. He fumbled with his uniform pants that were on the floor and grabbed his wand and pocketed it in his pajama pants.

He rubbed his head as he made his way slowly to the common room, almost drunkenly, and he slipped on the last step but caught himself. Harry didn't really know where he was going through the darkness and picture frames shined, wooden tables caught the light of the windows and it was still raining out. He exited the common room and he rememebered something just as the portrait shut behind him. He turned around to see the sleeping Fat Lady. He had forgotten his Invisibility Cloak. He hissed at the pain in his head. Harry stood there with his arms wrapped around him because it was cold in the empty corridor. He only knew of one thing to do and it was to go to Snape for help.

He walked through the darkness; he was glad there was no light because the light was painful. He headed down the first staircase and when he came to the bottom he jumped back onto the stairs, startled by the sudden creature coming up the second flight of steps. It was Mrs. Norris. Her red eyes were on him and he backed up quickly and she meowed loudly. He wanted to shush her and before he could walk past her he heard footsteps, a muttered voice, and saw the creeping light on the lower level of the staircase underneath him, he heard the swinging lantern; it had to be Filch. It was just his luck and he panicked. He couldn't get caught. He had been stupid enough to forget his Cloak and now he was going to be caught by Filch and most likely taken to Professor McGonagall. He wouldn't be caught. He started to head back to the portrait entrance but he wouldn't be able to get back in without speaking the password.

Harry wasn't thinking straight and he was panicking and Filch would be on the 7th floor any second now and it came to him. He knew a place where he could hide out. It was his only option. He ran off quickly to the deserted corridor to the tapestry of dancing trolls. With his head aching he started to pace back and forth three times passed the large wall and he thought desperately through the pressure in his head:

_I need a place to hide me. I need a place to hide me. I need a place to hide me._

His request was so jumbled as he could hardly think straight and his heart was racing. He could hear the footsteps of Filch. He thought it was too late. But to his amazement as he stood there the large doors appeared. Harry wrenched one open quickly and jumped inside, quickly closing the door shut. He let out a breath of relief despite the disastrous pain in his head. He didn't know what was wrong with him, he felt so out of it, so beside himself. He turned around and his eyes widened in shock. He pressed his body back up against the doors.

The room he was in was humongous, its space vast, almost never-ending. The walls stretched up so high and the windows were enormous letting in the light of the rainy night upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were piles upon piles of these objects that included broken furniture, a mountain of nothing but classroom chairs, thousands and thousands of books, so many odd things, hats, chipped bottles, jewels, cloaks, old swords, lamps, trophies, statues of every size. So many things filled the room creating pathways of what could be seen of the stoned floor.

The pain in Harry's head had somehow lessened as he stared at this awe inspiring room. He could definitely hide here. He hadn't expected the Room to become this, he had expected a broom cupboard or something like that but not this, this was overkill. Harry couldn't help but be curious as he walked forward, the only sound he could hear was his breathing and an odd dying musical instrument. His eyes kept finding different things, his attention caught by shadows and colors. For some reason he liked this room; he felt connected to it because it was messy, everything clustered up to form the towering walls of hidden objects. It would be easy to get lost in here. He was lost too and now he was hidden in this place and he doubted anyone would find him.

He turned right down one of the formed alleyways, his trainers crossing an old large rug. He walked along looking at everything, hearing a flicker of wings now and again. There were splashes of light from old working magical lamps. There was a section of nothing but broken mirrors. It was ok to be alone here in this somewhat spooky place. His fingers stretched out as he walked and he touched an old red sofa, the old binding of a thick book, the glass of a telescope, the blade of a rusty axe, the marble of a large statue. He turned left down another pathway and he could smell a scent like old parchment, dust, and the air was cold. And then he heard something or he felt something, the softest of vibrations. He stopped in the center of the path and there were 4 ways he could turn but his eyes fell on an old wooden cupboard standing by a small table with a moth eaten white cloth over it.

Something made his heart flutter; made his senses focus on this specific area. Slowly he walked over to the cupboard and stood before it. He swore he could hear something; it was faint, too faint. He blinked softly, his lips parted and without really knowing why, he opened the cupboard, his right hand grasping the small brass knob. Inside there was an old bird cage set in the dark shadows. Beside the birdcage was a small dark wooden box. The ache in his head was fading and the sound he heard was growing louder and he couldn't move his eyes away from the box. It was almost like a heartbeat, slow and tiny. He reached with both his hands and he opened the box.

Inside it, set on a pillow of purple velvet, was a tiara. It was silver with a large dark blue circular jewel in the center. There were diamonds set all around the winged shaped tiara. Above the jewel was the silver head of a bird. There was something carved into the silver, an engraving but before Harry could read it he heard something, a voice that he knew.

"_Harry…come find me…"_

Harry's breath hitched, his lips were parted, his trembling fingers hovering above the shiny tiara. He knew that voice but how could he hear it, how could Sirius's voice be calling to him?

"_Harry, come find me, come find me, I know you're looking for me, I'm here Harry…"_ the voice spoke eagerly, in a breath of a whisper but it was Sirius and Harry's eyes were in a trance, open, not blinking as his heartbeat sounded in his ears loudly.

"_I'm here Harry, I'm here, come find me…"_

Before he could stop himself, before a warning could sound off in his thoughts, he reached for the diadem that seemed to call for him and he felt as if he would die if he did not touch it. Harry's fingertips brushed against the cold silver and the shining jewel and his body went instantly rigid, his eyes grew clouded over with a grayness, the box snapped shut and his mind was thrown somewhere deep into winged shadows.

* * *

Severus took another swig of the amber colored drink, the ice in the glass rattled. He sat in the dim light at the table before the high bookcases with the half-empty bottle of Scotch whisky before him. He placed the empty glass down, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol work over his senses. He rubbed at his face; his mind felt hazy, his senses dulled. It was past midnight and he had finished his patrol of the lower floors of the castle long ago. He had been tempted, due to his frustrations, to go to Dumbledore and vent his anger and confusion at the old man.

He felt such desperate feelings within him. He hadn't known how to comfort Harry when they had been in his office. The boy had been angry and he had looked so sorrowful, so frantic, so miserable and Severus had felt his heart sting. He had just stood there like a fool, trying to fix the situation, trying not to argue with the boy or grow angry himself. He had lied to Harry. He had said he wouldn't care if the boy didn't recover his voice when all this time he had been waiting to hear that voice again, had actually grown excited over it and hopeful. He knew Harry was suffering, grieving, hurting inside but he did not know what to do, he was afraid to touch the boy for fear of setting Harry off even more since the boy had seemed furious with him.

Severus had been cowardly, spineless; he had just let Harry vent and all the while as he accepted those words it was painful to watch the boy struggle to escape the wretchedness he was trapped in. Harry had reminded him of himself; of the way he too had been years ago. It was the pain, the grief, the denial, the anger, the pure sadness that belonged to Harry, that was caged into that body. It was all the things that came with the loss of someone you loved; the great pleading feeling, the vicious torture of the truth, the continuous torture and Harry had seemed so beside himself. All he wanted was to make the boy happy, all he wanted was to give Harry anything he wanted but he realized he was incapable of such a thing. He couldn't bring back the dead. He couldn't give Harry his voice back. And for some reason he felt like he had failed.

Severus poured himself another glass and drank half of it down quickly. He closed his eyes slowly. He thought he had been so good at making the boy smile, at giving him such pleasure. He hadn't realized he was making a poor effort of making sure Harry was alright, that he was really getting better but he wasn't trying to help Harry see the truth or help Harry in understanding the reason he had lost his voice. Severus just didn't understand why his feet hadn't been able to move; why he just couldn't go over to Harry and hold the boy who for some reason looked much smaller to him in that moment. But he had remained rooted at the spot. He didn't know what kind of fear that had been. He had no idea why his heart had pounded so harshly; what had he been afraid of? Or perhaps he knew he just wasn't able to consider it, to admit it.

He was beginning to believe that he should never have given into his desires, should never have grown so close to Harry because he knew he was making the boy's emotions struggle against one another, confusing him, moving too fast with their relationship but he was selfish. He had watched the boy run away from him and he had done nothing to stop him. He had been weak. Harry had asked him that question. The question he couldn't answer because he wasn't ready to answer it, he wasn't ready for those confessions; he wasn't ready to tell the truth. And now Harry was alone with all of it and perhaps if he was sober he wouldn't be considering just going to the boy and stealing him away from his bed to reconcile things, to be with Harry, to desire his touch again, to make him see how much he cared about Harry. His inebriated brain told him he must do it, he must go to Harry now, make amends now, he could not wait until the morning when he would have a hangover and no such bold drunk courage left.

So, unable to get a hold on this urge, Severus rose from the chair and made a somewhat uneven path to the door, forgetting his black overcoat and with quick, confident yet unsteady strides he made his way through the cold, damp dungeon pathways and up the spiral staircase that disoriented his vision. He stabled himself with his right hand out, pushing against the stoned wall. He came to the entrance hall that suddenly lit up with a flash of lighting as it was pouring rain out. His mind was set, his focus driven by the thought of needing to get to the boy, to find him, to make him alright, to see those innocent yet sorrowed eyes.

Severus climbed the many staircases, his heart slightly racing, his white dress shirt somewhat loosened from his black slacks, the collar tight against his neck. Thunder rumbled throughout the dark castle. He could hear his heart in his ears. He walked down the 7th floor corridor of Gryffindor Tower heading to the portrait of The Fat Lady and stopped shortly, feet away from the large window before him. There was someone standing before it; a dark silhouette. Lighting struck again and the being before the window was lit up; their shadow stretching greatly behind them across the stoned floor.

It was dark once more when Severus realized who it was that was standing there. Thunder broke through the stormy sky as the relentless rain fell. There was an eerie feeling in the stillness of the chilled air around him. Though the thunder had sounded the boy before the window had not flinched. Severus could tell through the cast shadows that Harry had his back to him. Severus took a short step forward as caution spread through his body. He did not know why he was not relieved to have found the boy so easily. His heartbeat had sped up intensely and he tried to focus his drunken senses.

"Harry…" Severus spoke carefully. The call had been loud enough for the boy to hear.

The shadows seemed menacing to the corners of his vision. He thought he might have been dreaming possibly; had perhaps fallen asleep in the chair. The boy turned around slowly, bringing his arms down to his sides and in a swift moment the lighting tore through the sky once more, illuminating Harry's body; the boy's hair, the blank expression, the bright glow of blue in those eyes, slightly parted lips, his sleeping clothes, and the gleam of the rusted dagger gripped in Harry's right hand.

Severus's intoxicated brain seemed to freeze in that instant, his heart gave him a sudden shudder; a striking chill ran down his back, his black eyes widened holding a panicked look. Thunder sounded throughout the deserted corridor and things around him seemed to grow much darker. Instinctively his right hand reached to his pocket for his wand and fear and dread rushed to his senses. In his inebriated state he had forgotten his wand in his overcoat that was hung on the coat rack in the entryway of his private quarters. It was in that second that Harry's right hand, as steady as he had seen it in months, rose up, crossing over his chest, and the blade of the dagger pressed lightly into the flesh of the boy's neck. And Severus had no time to feel anything but the effects of the alcohol vanishing away from his body and a sudden wish or plead that this was just a nightmare.

* * *

A/N:

-I did my best to research house-elves but could not find any other way of a family ordering them about without speaking the command. If there is some simple alternative, sorry I missed it.

-Sirius's will was brought up to put Harry back on track with his "condition" and the truth despite his feelings for Snape.

-For some reason I liked the way Harry could sense horcuxes in movie 7 and 8 even though I know it was just because of the lack of information we got on the possible horcruxes in the 6th movie. I still thought that because it is a piece of a soul and Harry is a horcrux and despite the harsh way a horcrux is made I think pieces of the soul should still be connected in some way.

I hope the readers enjoyed this chapter and are not disappointed with it. If you are disappointed I do apologize. Thank you for reading and I hope you will review, whether your comments are good or bad, they give me inspiration (unless they're like really mean :D) but yes, they do help and they do keep me writing although I will finish this story no matter what (unless I die) even if only one person is left reading, I promise.

Thank you once again, I hope everyone is well.

To let everyone know I do start college again on August 21st, I go to school 2 days out of the week but I will do my best to update frequently.

And finally, I apologize if there are any errors. Next chapter will be up soon.


	29. Chapter 28: Black Bird Part II

A/N:

I want to apologize again for the lateness of this chapter. I did not know so many things could happen in less than a month besides a wedding I had to attend in another state. But things have settled down and it should be much quicker updates from here on out. I am very sorry for making the readers wait this long. I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thank you for your wonderful reviews in the last chapter, they gave me the boost I needed.

**Warning: This chapter contains Mature and Graphic Content and M/M. Don't like it, don't read it, thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter 28: Black Bird Part II**

With no breath left in his lungs Severus felt his body race forward. He was a blur. In spite of his amazing speed a small thought of fear managed to reach into his mind that he wouldn't make it to the boy in time. To him it was as if time had slowed itself at an agonizing measured pace. Before Harry could do the unspeakable act, before the blade was used to slice against that skin, Severus yanked the boy's hand that gripped the dagger away. It was a swift motion followed by an even swifter one because with a sudden unnatural strength Harry freed his wrist from Severus's hold. He heard it first before his eyes could catch the movement. It was a sickening, grotesque sound as the shined blade pierced straight through Severus's right arm. And the pain came next, a quick burning shot up his arm all the way to his shoulder and he clenched his teeth against it.

The dark blood blossomed easily and began to soak his white sleeve. His eyes quickly caught the boy trying to get past him, the hand leaving the dagger stuck in Severus's arm. Even with the sudden wound Severus took hold of the boy and he threw himself on top of Harry and they collided with the stoned floor. Harry was not himself, Severus knew this and he had no such idea of why this was happening but Harry's face was a mixture of pain, desperation, and anger as the boy's body struggled underneath his weight. Severus held on to Harry, his hands gripped as tight as he could to match the boy's abnormal strength. Harry's teeth were bared like an animal and he looked as if he might be trying to scream but no sound left those lips.

Severus winced as Harry's head smacked hard against the stone as the boy had done it himself. Severus knew he could not panic, he knew he needed to think quickly. It was then that he felt something against his thigh; it was Harry's wand in the boy's pocket. Severus's left hand moved automatically as he freed the thing in spite of the boy's powerful struggle to be free of Severus's weight. With a quick flick he used the Full Body Bind Curse on Harry and instantly the boy's body went as rigid as a board against his own. Severus was breathing hard, his face sweaty and his body shaking lightly. Harry's face was blank once more, unmoving, dead behind the eyes and Severus sat up on his knees, letting out a harsh breath against the horrible pain in his arm. He clenched his teeth as his left hand took the hilt of the dagger and a shout escaped him as he pulled the blade from the limb.

The blood soaked dagger clattered to the ground and Severus took up Harry's wand, pointed it at the fresh, bleeding stab wound and muttered a quick enchantment. The wound closed mostly but it was all he could expect from Harry's wand and his mired concentration. Severus wiped his bloodied right hand on his pant leg as he looked over Harry's still body. There was a small trickle of blood upon the boy's neck from a tiny cut where the dagger had been pressed into the skin. Severus forced himself to clear his head. He needed to get the boy to the Hospital Wing, he needed to get Dumbledore, he needed to find out what had happened to Harry.

* * *

Severus sat beside the bed that Harry's body lay upon. The Hospital Wing was dim. The storm had passed and now a light rainfall could be heard outside. His body was spent for energy as his eyes and head ached greatly. A lot had happened in the past hour. He had retrieved his wand after taking Harry to the Hospital Wing and fire calling Dumbledore. It had all happened in quick snippets, moments he couldn't really remember. He had explained to Dumbledore of the events that had taken place the best he could. And now the Headmaster was beside the mediwitch as she was doing diagnostics on the boy's sleeping form.

Dumbledore had lifted the boy from the Body Bind Curse and Harry's eyes had closed gently and the boy had simply fallen asleep. Severus waited impatiently as he sat on the wooden chair. Madame Pomfrey had been quick to treat Severus's wound and there was now a white bandage wrapped several times around his arm. His blood soaked sleeve still felt damp to his skin but he did nothing to clean it. His stomach was sick with the amount of alcohol he had consumed. He felt as if he were in a state of turmoil. Severus couldn't stand the memory of Harry just holding that dagger to his neck. The dagger was now cleaned and set upon a table feet away from the bed. Dumbledore and Severus had examined it but the rusted weapon did not hold any type of curse.

Severus was afraid. He did not want to let such thoughts enter his mind but they did. He didn't want to believe that Harry had done this deliberately, that he had really tried to take his own life tonight, no, no matter the horrifying thoughts that crept up into his mind he would not accept it. There were things about Harry that had been strange: the boy's demeanor, the sudden strength that he knew Harry was not capable of, the look in those eyes because in those moments, those dark moments Severus had not found the innocence that was always so effortlessly seen.

He was worried beyond his control and his own composure was slipping easily because he just wanted Harry to be alright, he wanted to hold the boy tightly, to do anything to help him. But Severus felt helpless in the dark Wing as his eyes followed the golden light that emitted from the woman's wand. His chest was tight with a certain fear that he had only felt long ago and he thought that if he hadn't been there; if he hadn't chosen that moment to go to Harry, if he had waited a few minutes longer…it was an unbearable thought.

"There's nothing, Albus…" Madame Pomfrey's voice was a light whisper as her face was concerned. "There's no spell, no potion, no curse…"

There was silence for a moment and not even Severus could respond to the mediwitch's prognosis.

"Untraceable…" Dumbledore said steadily.

"Perhaps…" Madame Pomfrey said softly. "Or perhaps…intentionally…" Her eyes glanced up at the Headmaster before returning to rest on the boy.

"No," Severus let out harshly. His voice was hoarse. "Potter wouldn't do such a…He wouldn't…He's not…" And the words would not form no matter how he pressed his brain to work.

"We will not rule it out just yet, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "We need—"

And anger struck Severus's body.

"He's not suicidal!" he shouted against the silence. How could the old fool say a thing like that? How could the Headmaster even think to believe such a thing of his damned Golden Boy? He couldn't take the man's words, he couldn't stomach the fact that Dumbledore could not speak what he was thinking, the doubts he had, the idea that Harry could ever feel that desperate, could ever think of wanting to kill himself, of trying to kill himself and Severus's body was shaking, his hands clenched into fists.

"We need to have the Staff begin the investigation," Dumbledore spoke in that calm voice after a moment of silence. "They will search the castle and the grounds, they will question the students and we will go about solving this thoroughly, Severus."

Severus's eyes stayed glued to Harry's body.

"I will gather the Staff," Dumbledore said. "Poppy, you can try to wake the boy, if he is not himself you will need to subdue him. I will be back momentarily."

Severus hadn't the strength to glare at the Headmaster as he left the Hospital Wing. He had a great desire to start trying to get to the bottom of this but he could not leave the boy's side, he would not leave Harry's side. Once again he hated himself for not stopping Harry from running out of his office, for not instantly taking the boy into his arms and with a sadness he realized he didn't hold Harry enough. He remembered that night when Harry had wrapped his arms around his waist tightly, slowly, and he hadn't been used to such affections and he did not know if he was good at comforting the boy. He was beyond disappointed in himself.

Madame Pomfrey held her wand before the boy's head and a light blue shine emitted from the tip and Severus heard the intake of breath from Harry and his eyes fluttered open quickly. Harry's head turned slowly to where Severus was and Severus was relieved to see that innocence back in the blue eyes that glistened and the heat that reached those cheeks, painting the light red into the boy's skin. But then those eyes grew fearful and Harry sat up quickly, pressing his back against the bars of the hospital bed. His body was trembling and his eyes searched around the room, catching the woman's worried expression and then they settled back onto Severus.

Severus stood slowly as he was thinking, trying to calculate the answer. If Harry had been cursed by something or someone then how could he be back to his normal self so quickly? Severus knew of many dark and complex curses like the one the ring had held however this sort of behavior was not one Severus recognized. The effects of most curses were constant. And he didn't want to think that Harry had done such a thing intentionally, it was impossible, Harry was stronger than that, he knew this, he had to believe it, he wouldn't be the one to think the boy wanted to end his life.

"Mr. Potter…" Severus spoke and the formality of it brought a bad taste into his mouth.

"What…what's going on? Why am I here?" Harry signed quickly, his eyes looked strained.

Severus was silent for many seconds and for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest.

"Poppy…would you please leave us for a moment?" Severus asked softly as he looked at the mediwitch who had her wand out still.

The woman only nodded slightly before she left the Hospital Wing. It was just the two of them now in the ward.

"Harry…" Severus said gently as he sat on the bed. Harry had his knees up to his chest, his hands clenching the bed sheets. "Just be calm, you're alright."

"But why am I here?" Harry signed and the boy's lips were trembling.

"Harry…do you remember what you did tonight?" Severus forced the words and they came out tight yet softly.

"What…I…I don't know what you mean…I…I was asleep…and I know we argued…" Harry's hands were shaking badly and he looked panicked. "I woke up…and I…my head hurt and I was going to go to you…but…I…I don't remember…I don't remember…" And the boy's eyes were filling with sudden tears. "I was in…someplace dark…and I saw her…my mother…she was speaking to me…I was dreaming…"

Severus's heart gave a jolt as he was trying to put together the boy's nervous signs. So the boy had gone to bed and had a dream about his mother and Harry didn't remember the dagger that he had held against his throat.

"I…I was going to see you…and I can't remember what happened…it was so dark and lonely…" Harry's face was flushed and pained. "I don't know what happened…there was just…a forest and shadows and…there were birds, hundreds of them, black birds…it wasn't real…" Harry's eyes were moving quickly back and forth and Severus knew he was struggling to remember. The boy's eyes darted to Severus and widened. "Blood…what happened to your arm?"

Severus felt as if there were too many thoughts crashing together in his mind to figure out what he should do next. It sounded as if the boy's mind had been somewhere else while his body was still active, perhaps something controlling his actions, forcing him to do what he had done. It couldn't be the Dark Lord. Harry was safe here at Hogwarts and his mind was closed, the barrier kept up since Harry had been practicing Occlumency. He would just need to question the boy, to be careful and try to solve the sudden mystery. It was complicated because Severus did not know if the curse was gone, somehow lifted without him understanding how it had been lifted. No, something wasn't right, this was different, Severus had never faced this situation before despite how much he had learned. How could this have happened? Something so abrupt and unexplainable? What secretive force had been lurking in this place that was supposed to be a safe haven for Harry Potter? What betrayal had taken place? What was the reason for this?

Severus spoke carefully: "Harry, you need to try your best to answer this truthfully. What happened when you…left my office?"

Harry's eyes looked away from Severus as the boy thought. Harry looked so lost and shaken.

"I…had a shower…and…I went to bed…I…had a nightmare and I woke up with my head hurting, it hurt so much…so I wanted to go to you…for help," Harry signed slowly. "And then everything is just in darkness after that…I'm trying to remember but…my head feels so foggy…I can't remember." Harry shut his eyes tightly, his breath shuddering and the boy was shivering.

"Harry…I went to see you…it was past midnight…" Severus said and he stood up from the bed and walked over to the table where the rusted dagger lay. "I found you…in the corridor before the window by the entrance to your dorm…You were standing there…Harry…" Severus picked up the dagger gently by the hilt and turned to face Harry as they were separated by the few feet. Harry's eyes fell over the weapon and he looked confused and worried. "You had this in your possession…Harry…you brought it to your throat…You weren't yourself…I got to you before you could do anything…drastic…"

The boy's eyes had widened as he just stared at the dagger in Severus's left hand. His lips were parted slightly, eyes shining from the dim light in the room and Severus's heart would not be calmed.

"You fought against my hold…with such strength…I wasn't able to stop you from…" Severus spoke lightly and made a quick gesture to his right arm and the sleeve was still bloody, the bandage tight. He couldn't say the words exactly.

"Wait…" Harry signed, his lips moving to the one word. "Wait a second…I…I did that to you? I…" and the boy was trying to mouth the word "stabbed" but Harry pressed his lips together. His face had paled, he looked sickened. "I don't…I don't understand…" Harry's shaking hands came to cover his face as those shoulders shook and the boy was barely breathing. Severus set the dagger back upon the table lightly. Harry had begun to sob, his face growing red again from what Severus could see through the boy's hands. Severus quickly came to Harry's side. His chest felt tight and his mouth was dry.

"Harry, please, calm down, it's alright," Severus whispered. His right hand reached out and he placed it upon the boy's left shoulder and felt the heat beneath the shirt. "I need you to calm down…"

Harry's hands came away and they hovered there, trembling before him as the tears rolled down those heated cheeks. His face was tense, his eyes somewhat broadening.

"I'm losing my mind…" those hands barely signed but Severus read those lips perfectly. "I'm going mad…"

"Harry," Severus whispered quickly. "No, Harry you're not, please do not think that way…"

"But I can't think straight…" Harry had signed forcibly, his head turning swiftly to face Severus with those wide tearful eyes. "I don't know what's happening to me. I can't deal with this…I can't deal with all of this…" And Harry bent forward, hands coming up to grip at his hair.

"Harry…" Severus could hardly stand it, to see the boy like this, he felt so torn, so angry, so powerless.

Harry's hands came back down and with tears in his eyes, his expression very desperate as he faced Severus Harry signed:

"Ms. Gardiner, can you please get Ms. Gardiner?" The boy's hands trembled as he signed the word "flower" twice.

Severus felt his hands go numb as something gripped at his heart. He was here, at the boy's side and yet Harry was asking for someone else, for that _woman_. Despite the situation, despite that Severus knew he should be thinking rationally and being responsible and attempting to solve the problem at hand he could not stop the fiery anger that rose up within him. In the past he had been the expert on keeping his composure and he blamed it on the exhaustion he felt and the side effects of drinking.

"I will get you a Calming Draught," Severus said in a whisper.

"Please, I just need Ms. Gardiner," Harry signed quickly. Severus hated the begging look in the boy's eyes. Severus hated how selfish he could be to the boy, how greedy. He hated how his thoughts could turn so nasty even if they were in such a situation. He couldn't help his mind that was practically screaming at him that _he_ knew what was best for Harry. And of course it was a lie.

"She can't help you…" Severus spoke with a quivering voice as his face was shadowed. "This is out of her hands…She knows nothing of the Dark Arts…not the way I do…She's of no use to finding out what happened to you tonight…" He knew Harry would not understand what he had meant. For all he knew the boy was thinking that he really had tried to kill himself tonight.

"I just need to talk to her…I just need her help, please, please…" Harry signed in his desperation as those tears filled his eyes. He was on his knees as he had come away from the wall finally. "It's too much right now; I can't…Please can't you…"

Perhaps he was still drunk because he had grabbed the boy's left wrist harshly to stop him from signing anymore. Harry flinched.

"Enough…" Severus hissed.

Harry's eyes looked pained and frantic as he tried to pull away from Severus's hold but his attempts were no match for the strength Severus had over the boy. His body was reminded of why he had left his personal quarters to go to the boy. He had wanted to make amends, he had wanted to steal Harry away, to give him the pleasures he so longed to feel himself. It was a certain madness, it was wrong, it had to be dark but that dark was always a part of him, he was a Death Eater after all.

He pushed the boy down, ignoring Harry's gasp as Severus held those wrists down tightly to the thin bed. Severus was on top of the boy, his knees heavy on the bed as Harry was underneath him, his legs over the bed, his feet trying desperately to reach the floor to give him some sort of leverage against Severus but it was no use. Why was this happening? Why was he feeling this way? Was it just jealousy, a powerful envy that entangled his treacherous heart? Was that why he was feeling so dominating in this ugly moment? Was that why he was trying his damndest to banish the memory of that dagger against such soft flesh, the flesh that he could see now so tempting, enticing. Severus's eyes seem to glaze over with the shadows.

Harry was giving Severus such a look, a frightened look as the light was held in those blue eyes and Severus felt such possessiveness over the boy's body, it was his, only his and he did not know what had come over him, he did not know why he was acting this way, in this shameful way but Severus's thoughts were clouded, his senses leaning toward desire and he kissed Harry deeply, forcing those lips to part so his tongue could work its way into that hot mouth. He felt the silent whine Harry gave as the boy breathed out against him. He bit the boy's lip without the gentleness he always used with Harry. Harry struggled and it only made Severus angry as the boy had tried to move his lips away from him.

Severus let out a growl and he moved on to kissing the boy's neck. He could feel Harry's body trembling. Severus was taken over by this feeling. It had angered him that Harry had wanted her to help him when Severus was more than capable of bringing the boy comfort, of taking away all of his misery, he could do it; he was the one, the _only_ one. It was Harry's fault he was doing this, it had to be…

And the boy began to struggle more frantically when Severus began to grind against Harry's groin as he had come away from Harry, holding those wrists down, his weight on top of the boy. It was then when Severus opened his eyes that his body became rigid as he took in Harry's face. It was pained, tears streaming from the boy's eyes, his face flushed, jaw clenched. Those eyes looked so afraid. Severus's heart shuddered and he immediately let go of Harry's wrists and the skin was reddening. Severus stood up quickly, his body coming away from the boy's and he stumbled back and fell onto the wooden chair and he had no breath within him, his eyes were somewhat wide, his vision shaky as he realized what he had done, what he had been about to do.

His eyes darted to the open doors of the Hospital Wing but there was no one. He looked over to Harry whose body was now still upon the bed, his head turned to his right, lying against the wrinkled white sheet, his eyes looking vacant somehow.

"Harry…" Severus said softly but the name came out unevenly. "I am sorry…"

And Harry sat up strangely, almost limply, his bare feet resting against the cold stone. His head was down, bowed and Severus felt that caution spread through his body. The boy's head turned, looking straight at the table in which the dagger lay upon a silver tray. And Harry bolted to it but Severus was faster as he stood, taking out his wand quickly and the dagger soared from the table just as Harry's hands slammed down harshly on the metal tray. Severus took the dagger from the air and he cast a vanishing spell on it and the weapon was gone. Severus let out a quick breath and his eyes looked over to Harry who was standing much like the same way he had been in the corridor, his back to him.

The boy had to be cursed; there was no other explanation that Severus could think of. In a quick motion Harry had turned around and ran at Severus. Severus, even though he was surprised at the shocking speed of the boy, caught the boy's wrists as they had swiftly reached out to Severus's neck. He took a step back because that abnormal strength had returned to Harry as the boy's darkened face looked menacing, his teeth bared once more. Despite Severus's own might Harry's hands were inching towards his neck as they were reaching up, shaking desperately to try to overcome Severus's grip.

He didn't want to hurt Harry; that was what was keeping him from doing anything more and the thought that even though the boy was not himself he deserved this response to what he had tried to do to this body only a moment ago. But that decision was apparently out of his hands as a jet of light hit Harry's body. The boy's eyes widened for a second, the shadows leaving his eyes and then they closed, his body became limp and Severus quickly came to hold Harry, his arm coming behind his lower back. It was quite the difference because Harry was light but only a second ago it had felt like Severus was battling against a heavy wall of stone.

He looked to the doorway and there was Dumbledore walking quickly over to Severus.

"Lay the boy down, Severus," the old wizard said lightly.

Severus picked Harry's unconscious body up easily and laid him back down upon the hospital bed. The boy's chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Severus felt suddenly ashamed and nervous. He couldn't help but think that Dumbledore suspected something, that he knew something when those old blue eyes met his own dark ones.

"He doesn't remember what he did, Headmaster," Severus explained after a moment. "Nothing, just that he woke up in the night with another migraine…he had been having them all day yesterday as I've told you…He wanted to…come here for help but he doesn't remember anything after that from what he has told me…He was…distraught Headmaster and just now he returned to the state similar to what I saw before and went for the dagger…"

Dumbledore was silent as his eyes fell over Harry's form and he only nodded slightly.

"The Staff is searching the school," he said. "Minerva is questioning her House as we speak to see if anyone knows anything about what could have happened to Harry." Dumbledore looked slightly forlorn. "I should not have told him anything about Sirius's will…I realized it right after I did so…"

"Headmaster…" Severus began in a breathless sort of voice. He had not told Dumbledore about him and Harry's argument.

"We will need to begin trying to break the curse Harry is under," Dumbledore interrupted. "I will get Professor Royle to assist me and I will ask Sophia to come to the school…If Harry wakes up and he is himself again he will need her words of assurance."

And it wasn't so much as the mention of the woman that jolted Severus's senses but the mention of Royle.

"Headmaster, are you so sure Royle can be trusted?" Severus said in a slight whisper.

"Yes, Severus…" the Headmaster responded. "It is like I've told you before, I trust the man for the same reason I trust you. He had nothing to do with this."

Severus clenched his fists and his knuckles turned white, his wand pressing painfully against his right palm.

"I will understand it if you do not wish to leave the boy's side," Dumbledore's voice was calm and low. "You may do whatever you think is best that might help Harry. He will be asleep for a while however. You can inform Poppy of what potions you wish to give Harry…I shall return soon, Severus…"

Severus could only nod and he watched the man leave the Hospital Wing once more. He sat down slowly upon the chair once more. His mind was heavy as he looked over Harry's sleeping form. He was drained and all of it was maddening. He had promised to do his best to protect the boy and he was doing such an awful job at it. He wished he had something, anything to go on to help him solve this problem but the only thing he could do was wait. They had searched the boy's body for any distinct marks that might be present because of a curse but there was nothing but a few bruises and the soft fading small bruise over Harry's heart, the mark Severus had made was still there and Severus suggested it was because of Quidditch practice where Harry usually received most of his bruises like the one he had on his upper arm.

Now Severus stared at the bruising around Harry's wrists and he felt sickened by it. What had he been thinking? It was dangerous and he was ashamed of himself because of the short incident that took place in the Hospital Wing no less, where anyone could have walked in to see him like that, straddling the boy, kissing him, forcing himself on Harry. What was he becoming? And why had he thought he could suddenly be someone so good, so virtuous like Harry? His past was riddled with wrong doings, painted with sins, with a darkness that had given him nightmares when he was younger. Severus sat upon the chair and his muscles ached and his head was groggy, his eyes tired. Why? Why did this boy have to suffer so much when he was so kind, so innocent? And now Severus was the one who was weighed down by guilt. And the doubt reached his mind, breaking through the many happy memories he had with Harry and he had no control over the thought, the thought that perhaps he should have never have given into all of this; that he should have spared Harry from it; that he should have spared Harry from himself.

It was very selfish as to what he had been doing this entire time. Yes, he cared for Harry immensely, perhaps more so than he knew. Severus closed his burning eyes that were wet, leaning back in the chair. He wanted to cure Harry, he wanted to always be by the boy's side, to be with him and despite how much he had changed during these long months, of these days that had no structure, despite whatever had brought them together, a tempting chance maybe, Severus was cruel, egotistical, desperate and he could not hide that behind his sudden kindness, behind the gentleness he showed Harry, behind the frenzied beating of their hearts when their naked chests had been against each other, no, because he knew the truth that Harry could not realize.

Because when Severus would drop down from their euphoria, when their moments together, wherever they existed, would end and he would be alone again he knew what he was doing. Yes, he was trying to save Harry but that wish did not stop reality from creeping up inside of him even if he tried to preoccupy himself with anything, inside the hundreds of books he owned or experimenting with potions or making his fingers dance about the keys of the piano. He knew even though he could not find where it had begun in all of these memories. He had always been selfish. He had been using Harry. Severus had always been trying to save himself from himself.

* * *

Sophia Gardiner had always been a busy woman. Even when she was young she hardly had moments where she could enjoy a second of free time. She blamed it on her mind, it was always so active and there was always something for her to do, to get done, to learn. It was maddening at times when she had so many appointments in one day. Even as a student she had been overwhelmed by her schedule. But she had known, from a very early age, perhaps when her sister was born deaf, that she had wanted to help people. That dream never faded, never got old, and her perseverance never faltered.

She had always been harshly determined and her social life suffered because of it. She didn't know if she was an easy person to love. People often told her she was easy to talk to, artistic, and all together a lovely person to be around and yet she was single. She didn't know if she intimidated people. She had a demanding demeanor about her despite her wonderful smile. Many men had told her she was beautiful but there was only one person, one man that ever took the time to listen to her for once. She was always the one to be the listener, to give the advice, to help, the one who held the keys to finding all the answers, to finding closure.

She had helped many people; in fact she had five years worth of experience under her belt. It was a very busy job and it could become quite stressful and she was afraid that it had made her numb to sympathy since she had given it to people so much. She didn't want to be an apathetic person. She wanted to remain lively, she wanted to be surprised and caught in moments in her life but the past two years things seemed dull. Well, they had been until Harry Potter had stepped into her office.

She knew the story about The Boy Who Lived. She knew how dark things had been with she was little; of Voldemort's rise to power and that Harry, when he was only a baby, had been the downfall of the Dark wizard. She had been scared then when she was a child because of Voldemort and the terrible things he did. Her father had always told her there was always going to be evil people in the world and that all she needed to do was to keep the light in her heart and she would be fine. Of course she had never known that she would one day be friends with Harry Potter. Even though Harry was her patient they were friends. And Harry seemed to bring that light back into her heart.

Harry was so very kind and had a gentleness to him regardless of being a 16 year old boy. He had curious, innocent eyes but she could see the sorrow buried deep within them. She wished that she could remove it because she knew how fragile Harry's mind was at the moment, how frail his spirit was. She had talked with Headmaster Dumbledore for hours about Harry's case. She had been a bit surprised that Dumbledore himself had requested her. She was the only psychotherapist at St. Mungo's but still, it was Harry Potter. Dumbledore had told her all about Sirius Black, the boy's godfather, and the truth behind the man who was now gone from the world. It was important for her to know about the relationship Harry had with the man.

And for some reason, despite his Conversion Disorder, Harry wasn't like any of the other patients she had seen. No, Harry was a challenge, the biggest challenge she had ever faced but she wasn't one to ever give up, no, she did not give up. She knew Harry was in need of help, of guidance but she never placed herself as the answer to anyone's problems, Sophia was not the answer to Harry's condition; she was merely a helping hand with experienced ears and plenty of patience and a strong will. She had worked with Harry for almost 3 months now and it did not surprise her that she still hadn't brought back Harry's voice. Because Harry was a complex case, the boy was traumatized and she knew how much he was hurting, how much he was suffering. There was a hole in his heart, what had been a perfect bloomed flower was now slightly crushed and in darkness.

This was the first time the boy had been through such a tragedy, had lost someone he loved deeply and Sophia saw the same sorrow in so many eyes every day though with Harry, his situation was much more complicated. Harry had many burdens, he had been through things that a boy his age should never go through and there was a great weight on his shoulders because he was the Chosen One. Sophia had decided long ago that she would be careful with Harry, take everything slow but honestly she knew that Harry was a boy who strived for affection, for warmth because he had been neglected for so long, his childhood spent being unwanted, unloved, mistreated and that's why Harry was so wonderful. Regardless of how his childhood had gone the boy was still able to be so kind, so thoughtful, and Harry's smile was so contagious; she liked this about Harry, very much.

And then there was Professor Snape who was quite the opposite of Harry. She had seen how strict the man could be, how unforgiving and mean but she had known at a very young age to be able to tell when someone was grieving, when someone was lost and suffering, she had seen it in the man's eyes when she had taken Potions. Severus Snape had been cold and bitter and Sophia hadn't been the only one that Harry Potter had changed. When she contemplated the man, normally when she had been finished speaking with Snape, she easily noticed the gradual change in the man's eyes. They looked livelier as if there was a soul behind them and despite the man's attitude and harsh tongue she was glad that someone was helping this man.

She knew Harry was attached to Snape, she wasn't blind to that at all, she knew how happy Harry could be because of Severus Snape and together these two beings were healing each other. Snape was a stubborn man however and Sophia had to admit it was sort of fun to press the man's buttons but she was merely assisting the professor to realize what he was trying all too hard to hide from her. They were healthy for each other, Harry and Snape; they were good for each other. She only hoped that things would turn out alright and that they would always treat each other kindly but she did fear that the man's courage would falter.

Sophia wasn't used to thinking of her own well being having spent so much time thinking of others, doing for others, she just never had the time to stop and really breathe, to do something for herself besides sneaking off from the office to shop here and there but she was a young woman after all. And despite being a witch who had graduated top of her class from Hogwarts she still indulged in the muggle world. She enjoyed going to the movies when there was time, eating at restaurants, the music, the night life of London, the people, the books, television, it was just easy to accommodate to the two worlds and it was strange to belong to both of them.

Sophia liked to share such things with Harry who seemed to enjoy them just as much as she did. Harry reminded her greatly of Emily, they were very similar; both kind, both young, both curious, both clumsy, and both innocent. And Harry was her greatest challenge and she had lost sleep over his condition, staying up in the late hours of the night either at her mother and father's house where Emily still lived or her own flat in London where she lived alone. She didn't know what would make the boy speak again and for now all she could do was experiment with Harry.

So it had been late, almost two in the morning as she sat on the cozy couch in her parent's living room with Harry's file open before her and a mug of hot tea on the coffee table when Dumbledore had suddenly fire called her from the room's large fireplace. She had been a bit startled but hurried over to it.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Sophia," the Headmaster's voice was calm but she caught the weariness within it. "If it is possible for you, can you please come to the school as soon as you can?"

"What's happened?" Sophia asked as she was on her knees on the soft rug before the fireplace.

"It's Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said evenly. "Something's happened to him…I will inform you about it when you arrive, once again I am sorry to have to bother you so late."

"It's not a problem," Sophia answered. "I'll come right away."

"Thank you Sophia, I appreciate it seeing how the situation is somewhat urgent," Dumbledore replied gently. "I will see you then in a few moments."

"Yes Headmaster," Sophia said and Dumbledore's head was gone from the crackling flames.

Sophia hurried to grab her coat and purse and slip on her heels. She stood there in her childhood home thinking quickly. She had known when she had accepted Harry's case that it would be far different than all the others; countless faces she had no trouble remembering, countless stories, tragedies, so many lives lost but Harry was different. He was the one who had brought her back to Hogwarts. The school held so many memories for her and she had regrets there as well. And she couldn't help but feel that it wasn't just coincidence; that it could be fate somehow, that two blossom petals could fall from the tree at different times and still manage to touch each other. Harry had brought that light back into her heart and Harry didn't know it but he gave her courage.

* * *

His thoughts were disconnected. His mind was shattering. He did not know it but his soul was caged in this place. He was walking on water, his feet firm on the sparkling surface, the ripples dancing away from each step he took. The water was vast and it stretched out all around him. There were dark trees that broke the surface, growing high and disfigured, their branches were bare; they were dead. There was no color to the sky, but it seemed to mirror the waters and trees and the shadows flowing above him. Harry did not know where his body began or where it ended, nor his heart because his emotions seemed to fill this world, this piece of a dark imagination and it could have been a dream. There were times where he could hear the world outside this place, hear reality but he could not escape, he could not reach them and it was unbearable to be trapped here, to be so alone, to not know where he existed.

He could only hope that someone would save him. He had made a mistake and the guilt drowned this world he was in. He felt like he was in a trance. Sorrowed winds whispered passed his skin; this place was a place of agony and loss and regret but he could do nothing to break from it. Sirius could not be here, Sirius was gone, his soul free but Harry felt his fingers hold tightly to the man's spirit, to the image he had been, to these heavy memories, he would not let go, he would never let go, he could not let go. And he was gone in this place and all he could do was remember those eyes, those black pools and how he longed to be warm again because he was so cold, his veins felt icy. He longed to sit by a fire, to take in that strong body, to feel those hands that were so powerful and that power seemed to vibrate against his senses, his blurred vision, the very essence of life in him.

He did not have hope because this place seemed to live off despair and it felt sinister despite the calm that was all around him, there was no sound but his breathing; he did not know why he could still breathe when he felt so lifeless, so lost. It was painful to be here. Behind the lids of his eyes he could see the light but it was too far away. He was going to die here, to walk upon the waters, amongst the dead trees forever; always looking for something, for someone, but never finding them. He was the one hiding even though he prayed that someone would search for him. He was going to waste away bit by bit and his soul would be ripped from his body and it would be consumed by whatever force kept this delusional world together.

* * *

Something jerked him out of sleep; a sound, a faint sound of glass. Severus's eyes snapped open to be met with the dim lit ward. A rush of panic shot through his body because he did not know when he had succumbed to his need for sleep but he had and the bed before him, where Harry had been, was empty and he sprung to his feet. His eyes quickly caught the movement of a shadow at the end of the Hospital Wing where the lavatory was. Severus ran to the room swiftly, his heart pounding. When he got to the doorway he had to grab at the wall to keep him from slipping. His eyes widened in shock, his breath coming out in a harsh gasp and he felt at once as if he were about to vomit.

The mirror on the wall above the sink was broken and spattered with blood. Harry was on his knees upon the white tiled flooring. There were large drops of blood and shards of glass before the boy, his pants damp with it as was his shirt. And Severus's eyes wavered over the deep crimson, his vision blurred and unsteady. The boy had a large shard of the mirror glass in his right hand; it caught Severus's expression in a quick moment. All over the boy's arms were jagged bleeding cuts, sliced deeply there into the skin, the blood covering his arms, flowing freely. Harry looked up, he wasn't wearing his glasses and Severus saw how the shadow in them faded quickly, returning to normal and Harry's eyes were filling with tears and he looked down upon himself and Severus could not take what happened next.

Harry was screaming but those screams were silent as the boy's blood stained face registered the fresh wounds of his skin, that face was pained and the look of great agony was etched all over Harry's features. Severus felt his body move forward on its own, throwing itself to come to Harry's side at once. Severus held out his shaking hands to the boy who was gasping for breath, hyperventilating, the shard of glass fell to the floor, breaking in half.

"Harry, Harry, you're going to be alright," Severus heard himself mutter numbly as he quickly took out his wand and his left hand held tightly to the boy's shoulder and his lips were a blur in the next moment, his eyes ignoring the blood all around him. the smell of it, the broken glass, Harry's appearance, as he spoke the incantations, the words flowing out of him in an ideal rhythm. He might have been going into shock, he did not know but the gashes in Harry's arms were closing. The boy was as white as a sheet, his body shaking horribly, his lips almost blue.

"Oh my god…" came a breathless voice from the doorway.

Severus could barely care that it was Ms. Gardiner who had arrived with Madame Pomfrey. Both of them were surprised at the sight before them and the amount of blood Harry was covered in. He picked up Harry quickly and hurried over to a bed, passing the woman and the smell of her perfume brought bile up into his throat. Madame Pomfrey was quick to react as she hurried off to retrieve the necessary potions and supplies.

The next few moments were difficult for Severus to recall because they seemed so silent to his memory and hazy. Harry was in a great state of panic and was hysterical because he fought against Severus and the mediwitch as if they were trying to do further harm upon the boy. He could remember that Harry's eyes had been unfocused, darting about the room crazily. Even with the little energy Harry's body had it was enough to make it tricky for Severus to force the Blood Replenishing Potions down the boy's throat and a pain reducer. Ms. Gardiner assisted him in holding Harry down and Madame Pomfrey dressed the wounds that were too deep to be healed fully.

After long minutes and after the boy had fell into unconsciousness Harry lay on the bed cleaned of all the blood. The feeling of relief had tapped upon Severus's senses when he knew the wounds would not leave scars but it did nothing to fight against the great worry and agony his body was suffering from. His mind was frenzied with too many thoughts and he could hardly catch his breath. Ms. Gardiner was standing next to him quietly cleaning her hands and her coat's sleeves of blood with her wand.

"Where is Dumbledore?" Severus asked quickly in a whisper. He could feel the pinching against his palms as his fists were clenched together in his state of heightened anxiety.

"He's getting Royle," the woman answered calmly and then she sat by the boy's side upon the bed and took Harry's limp left hand in her own. In the silence of the ward Severus felt his eyes travel along her perfect body and then stop to look at those dark green eyes that were locked on Harry's sleeping face. He hated the blush on her cheeks that was her make up that mixed with the flushness of the cold room and the concern she had been under. He hated the true worry in her eyes, the sparkle of her lipstick, the way she looked as if she were meant to take care of people, to help others without a second thought, he hated how someone so beautiful wasn't capable of vanity, wasn't capable of using people's hearts just because she could, he hated her kindness, he hated how easily she could fit into such a role to Harry and he hated himself for hating her.

Madame Pomfrey was picking up empty vials and bandages and Severus closed his eyes as he listened to her hurry off to her office muttering something under her breath. His eyes burned when he opened them to see the color that was born again in Harry's cheeks. His mind was plagued again with the horrid image of the boy covered in blood, of that shard cutting into Harry's wrist, of the shaking hand that controlled that shard and he quickly poured himself a glass of water, using the jug on the bedside table. His own hands were shaking as he drank the water down so it could fight against the urge he had to vomit once again.

Severus had to get himself under control. His nerves were stretched too thin and he felt the tightness in his heart eat at him. He wanted to shout at someone, to hit something but he stood there looking at the boy still. His eyes found the boy's glasses that the woman had retrieved from under the bed earlier. They were set on the bedside table.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, breaking the calm silence in the room.

Severus bit his tongue and his eyes narrowed.

"What are you apologizing for?" he heard himself ask.

"I thought it would help…I thought the will would help…" She closed her eyes; her expression was one of regret. "But it's still too much for him…He wasn't ready for it…I made a mistake…"

Severus wanted to hurt her, he really did but he stood there with his jaw clenched as his black eyes were on her but she was still looking upon the boy. He wondered how much she doubted herself, if she was ever afraid of failure, if she had ever failed at anything in her life. Severus's body felt more than cold. All he kept doing was failing Harry when he was supposed to be keeping him safe. He was cracking under all of it, the pressure and this was very unlike him. He was more than capable of dealing with great stress, of dealing with horrifying things and seeing Harry harming himself in such a way, it was very horrifying. It was his fault; he had fallen asleep instead, not realizing just how tired he was. He did not care if they were both to blame for this, all he cared about was helping Harry. He needed to free the boy from this curse.

Harry's eyes fluttered open and they did not search for him because they had met Ms. Gardiner's and the boy looked so broken, so pained. Severus watched as Harry sat up quickly, practically throwing his arms around the woman and he held onto her so tightly as he cried, his hand gripping her own. All Ms. Gardiner did was hold him there, her face calm, her eyes closed as her head was down, her chin resting on top of the boy's head. Severus watched as the woman's hand was upon Harry's back, moving up and down, slowly and gently. She looked so natural this way, like she had done this a thousand times over. She was hushing the boy softly and muttering gentle words to him.

Severus sat down upon the wooden chair wanting to leave but knowing he shouldn't. It was then that Dumbledore entered the room with Royle who looked just as sleep deprived as Severus did. His gray vest was open and the white dress shirt underneath looked wrinkled like his black slacks and the cuffs were unbuttoned. Severus grimaced at the sound the man's dress shoes made. Ms. Gardiner looked up at the two of them and Harry had stopped his tears and there were shadows under the boy's eyes, his skin was slightly pale despite the dark red in those cheeks. Harry's hands were in the woman's own as she held them still.

Severus stood as Dumbledore came to the bed and before Severus could explain anything he saw the old blue eyes fall on the bandages upon the boy's arms. Harry had looked up at the old wizard, his expression worried and fearful, those eyes shining, perhaps pleading that Dumbledore himself could fix it all and Severus felt the great pinch at his chest once more.

"Can you please bring Harry some Dreamless Sleep, Severus?" the old wizard asked lightly.

Severus felt his feet move numbly as he went to Madame Pomfrey's office and the potion's closet. He found the many bottles of the same colored liquid and grabbed one quickly. He brought it to the boy who was looking sick and miserable.

"I don't want to go to sleep," Harry signed quickly and the boy's eyes looked panicky. "Please, I don't want to sleep…"

"If you do not take it Harry we will force you to take it," Dumbledore said calmly.

Severus felt his jaw clench. Harry continued to stare at the Headmaster, his lips pressed together tightly.

"What's happening to me?" Harry signed.

"You have been cursed, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "By who or what we have yet to discover but we are trying to help you so please, take the Dreamless Sleep."

Severus's eyes followed the shaking hand that reached out slowly. Harry took the vial from Severus who had it in his open palm before the boy.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ms. Gardiner whispered. "Everything will be alright."

Harry's eyes looked up at her and then they found Severus's. The blue lingered for seconds before looking away and the boy took the potion, swallowing harshly. Ms. Gardiner had stood and helped the boy lie back down. Sleep was quick to take Harry. And the next few moments were mind numbing. Royle had spent long minutes standing over the boy with his wand moving in complex patterns over Harry's body as Royle muttered the many counter curses; some were short others lengthy. Dumbledore watched and the woman had walked a few feet away, sitting down on another chair but she wasn't looking at Royle. Severus recognized many of them and others he had to admit he didn't know of.

And when the young man was done he lowered his arms to his side and let out a breath.

"It's very old," Royle said and his voice was somewhat raspy. "It has to be, maybe too old…Have you tried using Legilimency?"

"Not yet," Dumbledore answered with a tired voice. "I want to let the boy rest for a while, Legilimency might be too much for his psyche right now as Sophia has informed me…Whatever curse is taking over the boy is random. It's controlling his body."

"I will do as much research as I can," Royle said.

Dumbledore nodded and the man looked weary. Before leaving Royle had given Severus a quick hard glance and then those boots were making the loud footsteps all the way out the doors of the Hospital Wing. Ms. Gardiner had gotten to her feet because McGonagall had come through the door wearing her sleeping clothes still and a fine dark red and black robe, her brown and graying hair done up in a bun. And following her looking just as breathless and worried as the Transfiguration teacher were the Granger girl and the Weasley boy.

"I'm sorry Albus, they refused to go back to bed without seeing the boy first," McGonagall said as she came over to them.

"Is Harry alright?" Granger said quickly and her voice was shaky. "What's happened to him?"

The girl had come over to the boy's bedside, her eyes watering and Weasley was behind her, his eyes looking all over Harry's arms that wore bandages here and there.

"He has been cursed, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore answered simply.

"They do not know what could have happened to him, Albus," McGonagall said. "Mr. Weasley has informed me that the boy went to bed early and that he looked like something was bothering him. When Mr. Weasley went to bed around ten thirty Potter was still asleep. He doesn't know when the boy got up in the night. My House doesn't know of anything of what happened to Mr. Potter…"

"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "Now, if you could please join the Staff in searching the castle. I have informed the rest of the Order members."

McGonagall only nodded and left the room swiftly.

"I am sorry that this has happened, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, but you must return to your dorms, Ms. Gardiner will escort you," Dumbledore spoke softly.

"But Professor…" Granger began and there were tears in her eyes.

"Please, it isn't safe for you two to be out of your dorms at the moment," the Headmaster said. "You can visit Mr. Potter in the morning…We are going to do everything we can to break the curse."

And Granger did not resist further. She only held the boy's hand in hers for a moment and then left Harry's side and the two Gryffindors went off with the woman out of the ward.

"I will have to restrain him, Severus," Dumbledore spoke in a low tone as his eyes wavered over Harry's sleeping form. "He is a danger to himself and to others…"

The old wizard took out his wand and with a flick of it the boy's wrists, chest and ankles were bound to the bed with a glowing sort of rope. Severus couldn't stop himself from grimacing at the boy's restraints.

"If he is in his normal state of mind when he wakes and is in need of something we will need to watch him closely," Dumbledore continued. "It is all we can do for now…I must go speak to the Order members…Someone will need to relieve you of your watch so you can rest, Severus…"

"I'm fine…" Severus said tightly.

"You can't be fine Severus, you are not even pretending to be," was all the old wizard said before leaving the Hospital Wing.

Severus could feel his body trembling with anger and such helplessness. He couldn't believe how hopeless he felt, how impossible this was. He was angry because things had been going so well apparently, had been so good and there had been moments with Harry in the past few days where Severus had been so lost in but now it was ruined, now he had to face the consequences that came with caring for the boy, the hurt that he felt and it was such a deep hurt.

And the hours begin to pass quickly. Night turned into day before he knew it. He took a Strengthening Potion when the sun had risen and refused to leave Harry's bedside in spite of the look that Lupin had given him. Even though the members of the Order were few it was important to keep what had happened to Harry as tightly concealed as possible. Classes for the day were canceled even though the castle and the grounds had been searched thoroughly and nothing was found that could have cursed the boy.

Students were not allowed to leave their dorms and the mail had been stopped, going in and out. Nothing changed, nothing could be done and Severus barely left the boy's side. He did not eat, he did not sleep and his mind was racing. He felt he was going insane; it was so much to just stay in one place and to do nothing but wait. And for the whole day Harry did not wake and a part of Severus was grateful for it. The other part was left wishing he could see Harry open his eyes and he would be fine, he would be happy to see Severus, to know how much he cared for Harry but the boy's eyes remained closed, his body still restrained to the bed.

It wasn't until well past midnight that Ms. Gardiner had returned and without a word Severus finally left Harry's bedside. His body couldn't take it anymore; his nerves were shattered, his patience burned to nothing. He returned to his personal quarters and took a quick shower and dressed in clean clothes. Even though the water had been hot Severus's body was still chilled. He just didn't know what to do. No one did. It was breaking them all because an answer was not presenting itself.

His eyes had fallen on the bottle of the amber liquid set on the black wooden table and the empty glass next to it. He was tempted to have it, to have something to numb the torture he was feeling but thinking of the drink further only made his stomach sicker and it felt knotted and terribly empty. He felt as if his body was sinking as everything seemed to be spinning out of his control. He could imagine Harry in this room, with him. He could imagine the boy smiling, looking nervous, acting clumsy, looking at him and there would be a happiness there between them, a happiness only they knew together, something that others could never see. They were drawn to each other, they seemed to always be drawn to each other no matter what feelings were between them and this gave Severus a fleeting hope because Harry deserved all good things in the world, deserved affection, deserved kindness and it was devastating to know that all Harry was feeling right now was agony and loss and fear. And Severus begged to find him again, begged that something could save Harry.

* * *

It was a raven with black eyes that gleamed up at him. He did not know how it could just appear out of nowhere atop the blue waters but it had and Harry stood there very still as he stared at the black bird. He knew something was keeping him here but his heart seemed to be attached to something else, something outside of this departed place. And now that these black eyes were staring up at him Harry could feel the great longing in his body and the phantom touch upon his lips. He was going to lose it; he was going to lose the one person that always gave him such a look of devotion. That was the look that he could hardly understand. How could someone ever look at him that way?

And he wanted to be free from this place, from this hopeless desperation he was in. Something was growing inside of his heart, a slow feeling of anticipation and his spirit was brighter and he wanted to fight against the hold this world had on him, he wanted to see those eyes again. He knew he had given up before but now he wished to overcome this, to fight back, to believe in himself again and Harry did not know when he had no longer believed in himself, when he had forgotten what it was like to have faith.

But the raven was changing. It began to morph into dark shadows that reached up, stretching out and it formed into a shape of a person, tall and the darkness was cast over Harry's form. Harry watched as the shadowed thing kept changing as the black faded into light because pale skin was being revealed; a face, a handsome face was forming as the darkness stripped away bit by bit. When the shadows were gone from the human body Harry could see clearly who this person was.

It was a man, a man he knew to be Tom Marvolo Riddle. Even if he was older looking Harry could never forget those light eyes and that pastel-like skin. The brown hair was short and well kept. The man was much taller than Harry and once again he was surprised at how handsome Tom Riddle really was in the past. Riddle wore a form fitting suit of all back and a long black cloak that dipped into the waters below them. The man's dress shoes were firmly planted above the water just like Harry's bare feet. Harry stood there, his face blank but his eyes were calm. His vision wavered over Riddle and this sudden meeting reminded him of a time similar to it, years ago, a ghost of a memory.

"I know you have suffered," Riddle said and his voice was a chilled whisper. Those eyes always looked so wrong, so stained with wickedness. "I know your mind…your thoughts…"

Riddle walked forward slowly and the ripples of the water were made behind each step he took toward Harry. The man was right before him now, looking down at Harry. Harry held Tom Riddle's gaze and the man smirked. Harry's heart shivered in his chest. Fear seemed to find his senses but he struggled not to succumb to it. Riddle's right hand reached out, thin but strong and bony white. The man's fingertips were so cold as they brushed through Harry's bangs. Harry's breath came out in a soft shudder.

"You're a curious boy…so innocent," Riddle said and there was a sharp glint in those eyes. His fingertips grazed the side of Harry's face lightly and they traced Harry's jaw line before falling down to his neck. "Your pulse is so strong…" Riddle's hand came away and the man began to walk slowly around Harry, a graceful circle as the man's body was very poised. "But you are tired of living. That is why you came here…" Tom Riddle's hand came to Harry's back, brushing passed the light fabric of the shirt, feeling the strong bumps of Harry's shoulder blades and sending a cold feeling up Harry's spine. "I know your greatest wish…I know you wonder so much where he's gone…I know how desperate you are to find him…I can see it, how much you think of it…" That icy hand traveled up the back of Harry's neck and brushed against the short hair before coming away once more. And then Riddle had come around to Harry's left side, leaning in to speak against Harry's ear in a soft whisper. "I can give you what you wish for…" Harry's jaw tightened and Riddle was before him again and Harry's eyes were caught on the glint of the man's tie clip. Riddle looked pleased and his eyes looked greedy.

"It's a pity that you have lost your voice…" Riddle said. "But I can give you that too…and I know how badly you want it…its right here, in your precious little mind…" The man's fingertips had reached out again, coming to the back of Harry's head and Harry felt the man's nails graze the skin but the pain was just. Riddle smiled and that smile was venomous and the lines that it created in the man's face looked treacherous. "I know how lonely you are…You loved him so much…You don't want to be in that world anymore, you don't want to feel that pain anymore, it is so _unbearable_."

Harry didn't want his body to be trembling but it was and he wanted to move, he wanted for this to end, for the man who would become Lord Voldemort to stop telling him these things, these words that seem to hypnotize his whole being and his mind, his soul, he could feel them giving in and the light wind that passed through this place made his skin itch. Harry's eyes were shining, bright and they stood out more than usual and he was trying to remember how it felt to be alive, to be focused, of certain moments where his body had been a part of another and that feeling, that electrified feeling had been the bond that had gripped his heart, his breath, whatever meaning his life held. But Riddle's hand had fell over where his heart was and it was cold like the snow and there was such pain there, that deep, inexhaustible, endless pain and it was so suffocating.

"Your heart is broken," Tom Riddle spoke softly. "There is no reason to stay. He is gone from that world, he does not exist there and neither should you. No one needs you. No one is bound to you. You are free."

Harry couldn't trust this man however there was something evil inside of him that wanted out, that wanted this freedom that the man spoke of and his mind, his thoughts were tearing apart. Was this salvation? Was this the relief he so desperately wished for? The relief from such loneliness? From such neglect? Could he be free from it all, from this pain and grief and the drowning guilt? And he did want it, truly he did.

"Yes, yes," Riddle said slowly. "You want death, you want the end, you want to go on. You will see him, you will finally be able to find him and he is waiting for you."

Harry could think of no one else but Sirius; of how much he missed the man's face and his laughter, his presence, his words, his tight embraces, that unconditional love and he wanted to see Sirius, his godfather.

Riddle was nodding with that confident, wicked smile.

"Death is waiting for you, Harry Potter," he said and those eyes were so dark.

And Harry was pushed back with such force that it felt as if something crashed against his ribcage and he plunged into the blue waters and he was falling, falling into the deep and there were birds around him, black birds flying, their wings spread and he was afraid because he didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to die. He wanted that warmth that fires gave, the power from those strong hands, the rich black in those eyes, the feel of the summer wind and the taste of salt in the air, the velvet voice that called his name with such refinement.

* * *

All was not quiet for long. Because Severus returned to the Hospital Wing after taking his short leave and what he found made the adrenaline in his body come alive, searing through his dulled senses. Ms. Gardiner was lying on the floor on her side, unmoving and the bed that had been Harry's was empty. The boy was nowhere in sight. Severus rushed to the woman and he knelt down swiftly. She was bleeding from a small gash on her forehead. Severus shook her harshly and Ms. Gardiner's eyes opened slowly.

"What happened?!" Severus shouted.

She seemed disoriented as she brought herself up slowly and winced as she was focusing on Severus.

"Harry…woke up…broke the binding spell…" she said shakily as her hand came to the bleeding wound upon her head. "He was too fast…he attacked me before I could…"

Severus was on his feet in a split second. He had no time to listen to her or be angry with her; he had no time for anything but to begin his frantic search for the boy. He wasn't in the Wing so Severus ran out into the corridor with such speed and the woman's heels clicked as she hurried after him. The castle was dark with a frozen silence and the air seemed to sting Severus's throat.

"Search the lower floors!" Severus ordered and she rushed down the flight of stairs.

His heart was racing and he tried urgently to collect himself as he took off down the corridor, his eyes searching in all directions, his wand out. The seconds drained on and he was practically jumping up the stairs as he was a black blur in the darkness of the castle. The moon had broken through the dark clouds and shone bright through the windows that Severus ran passed as his shadow was drawn out by the light.

It seemed like hours had gone by when it had been only minutes but it was such a hopeless search and he couldn't stop himself from feeling such fear that seemed to exist in the icy air around him. When it felt like he would be too late, when it felt as if his heart was about to split open, when it felt like he could hardly stand to take another breath Severus turned into a corridor and to a shocking relief there was the boy. Harry's body was sitting on top of someone and Severus recognized those odd dress shoes. Royle was underneath Harry's body, struggling against the boy and as Severus ran forward he could see that Harry's hands were gripped around the man's neck.

But before he could raise his wand to subdue Harry the boy's hands flung away from the professor's neck and Harry scrambled backward. Royle was coughing as he was sitting up. Severus ran to the boy and kneeled beside him. Harry's eyes were wide and strained; his face sweaty and there was a cut on the boy's cheek that was bleeding. Harry was breathing hard and shaking badly. Severus looked to Royle quickly.

"He's too damn fast…and bloody strong…" Royle said hoarsely and he stood and walked slowly to where Severus could see the man's wand that was many feet away. He picked it up and held to it tightly.

Severus placed a hand slowly on Harry's back. The boy seemed to be stunned as he was staring at nothing before him.

"It's alright," Severus whispered. He looked to Royle again who suddenly had his wand pointed at the boy. "Put that down you fool."

"He needs to be restrained," Royle said. "He can attack without warning."

"Lower your wand!" Severus spat in a low tone. "He doesn't need to be provoked; it only makes it worse for him!"

"You don't think I know that? Didn't you just see him trying to kill me a moment ago…?"

"_Liam!_"

Severus turned his head around quickly to see Ms. Gardiner standing there and her expression was severe.

"Put your wand down," she said in a harsh whisper. "And for god sake have a little more tact."

Severus was back to glaring at the man before him and his hand could feel the vibration of Harry's shaking body. Royle put down his wand and he looked contrite though his eyes were in shadow and his jaw was tense.

"Sorry…" he muttered.

"What happened?" Ms. Gardiner asked as she was standing on Harry's other side.

"He was just running and I tried to stop him and he flew at me, knocked my wand right out of my hand…" Royle said and he was pulling a small packet of something from his pocket and Severus realized it was that gum he always chewed. The man unwrapped the small square and put it in his mouth. Severus noticed the slight quake in the man's hands.

"Let's get Harry back to the Hospital Wing," Ms. Gardiner said after a moment. She bent down and placed her own hand on the boy's back. "Harry…please try to calm down, it's ok now, we're going to take you back…"

"Please make this stop…" Harry's trembling hands signed weakly. "God please…I don't understand…why am I doing this? Why am I hurting people? Why…? I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" And Harry had stopped signing the words and those lips moved to the same two words over and over as the boy's eyes filled with tears.

Ms. Gardiner hushed the boy softly before saying:

"Don't do this to yourself Harry, this isn't your fault…We're going to help you Harry, I promise."

Those eyes did not turn to her but to Severus and his heart bowed to those eyes, to the sorrow in them, to the pain and complete look of loss Harry was giving him. It broke him and how he wanted all of this to be some dream but it wasn't and in the next moments they were helping the boy stand and they walked to the Hospital Wing where they sat the boy down in bed. Severus helped Harry drink a cold glass of water and healed the cut on the boy's face and the many scratches that were on Harry's hands. It was then that Dumbledore entered the ward and Severus could tell by the man's face that nothing had changed and that he looked very weary.

"Headmaster…" Severus began.

"I can guess what happened, Severus," Dumbledore said softly as he stood before them now. "Please give Harry a Calming Draught."

Severus once again made his way to where the potions were kept and grabbed the tiny vial quickly and returned to where Harry sat. It was strange to know that at any moment Harry could turn into the dark being that had taken control over the boy's mind; whatever was possessing him was certainly evil and destructive and all too powerful. Harry took the potion and almost immediately the tense shaking in the boy's body ceased and his eyes were half open and looked entirely exhausted.

"Liam, has your search been of any use to us?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"There's no good news, Headmaster…but I did find something, it was just a record of a passage," Royle answered. "There is a description of a dark curse with a similar distinctiveness to Potter's symptoms…Its only recorded use goes back thousands of years. Most of its history has been lost or destroyed. It takes more than just a Dark wizard to place the curse on someone or something…There are many names for it and the best that most historians can break it down to in English is _Death is freedom. _Much like Potter has shown us…he has no control over it and it gives the cursed one remarkable strength so that no one can stop its only purpose…There's nothing more on it besides that it is said the way to counteract the curse is unknown…"

There was only silence following the man's vague explanation and Severus felt the anger boiling within him. The man's information was completely useless. He wondered once more of how this could be; how such a deadly dark curse managed to plague the boy when these walls were supposed to keep Harry safe.

The Headmaster spoke calmly:

"Sophia, would you please try to extract the memory we need from Harry?"

The woman had been sitting in a wooden chair feet from them after Madame Pomfrey had bandaged the gash on her forehead. She looked all too calm as she stood up and walked over to them as everyone but Harry moved away. Harry had remained still this whole time, his eyes locked on the stoned floor still without his glasses on. The Calming Draught was well in effect by now upon Harry's tired body. But the boy looked up when Ms. Gardiner had come up to him with her wand held lightly in her hand.

"Harry, just breathe slowly, relax…Don't fight it…" she said softly.

Harry kept his eyes on hers as she pointed her wand at the boy. Harry flinched and his jaw clenched and Severus knew the woman was not holding back as she entered the boy's mind. Seconds turned into long minutes as they waited in complete silence. They all stared at her as her face was a mixture of deep concentration, her eyes unblinking. Harry looked to be in a trance with his lips slightly parted and his own eyes remained open; he looked pale.

And then the woman took a deep breath, closing her eyes, her hand clenching her wand. Severus had noticed the strain in the woman's face at the end of it. Harry's eyes closed slowly and those hands gripped at his knees. Severus was cautious again but Harry blinked and there was nothing sinister in the sorrowed blue.

"I can't reach it…" the woman said in a whisper. "I tried but anymore would…" And she didn't finish the sentence. "It's just darkness…somehow its protecting it…I'm sorry…"

"Do not apologize," Dumbledore said calmly. "I think it's time you got some rest, Sophia, you as well Liam."

Severus could have laughed scornfully at the two matched expressions that Royle and Ms. Gardiner wore; they were both looks of remorse and worry. They left the ward, both walking many feet apart from each other. It was then that Severus took out his own wand prepared to see into the boy's mind himself believing that he would be able to break through whatever barrier was hiding away the memories they so desperately needed to recover.

"No, Severus," Dumbledore said lightly. "Harry is exhausted. He needs to rest."

Severus wanted to glare at the old wizard but he settled for glaring at the floor.

"I need a moment with you, Severus," Dumbledore said as he began to walk toward the doors of the Hospital Wing. Severus hesitated but with the both of them here he was sure nothing wrong could happen and if it did they were enough to handle it so he slowly went over to the man who had stopped just before the doors.

"He needs to eat something and then he will sleep and you will place the binds on him once more," Dumbledore said in a calm whisper. "Severus, there is only one possible temporary answer to this dire situation…"

Severus glanced over at Harry who was sitting still with his hands on his knees.

"And what is your temporary solution?" Severus couldn't stop the question from sounding bitter.

"Draught of the Living Death," Dumbledore answered. "It might be the only way to keep him safe, Severus."

"Headmaster…" Severus began as his heart had sped up in motion.

"There is nothing else for him, Severus. St. Mungo's will not be able to help him. We need more time and if the boy is going to be a constant threat to himself…it's too dangerous and that is not a chance I will take…I will not lock him in some room where he can't hurt himself. If he is asleep it will ease his suffering," the old wizard whispered. "In the morning, that is when it will be given to him…and we can only pray it works…" And the man left the ward before Severus could say anything. He was left to his thoughts as he walked back over to Harry.

He knew magic had limitations, he knew it couldn't fix everything so why was it so hard to find an answer? What had happened to Harry? Severus sat down on the wooden chair before Harry's bed. It was impossible that something like this could torment the both of them. They had been doing so well with one another. Everything had been so blissful, so true and easy and how he begged for it to go back to that but it was never perfect, they could never be perfect for each other because they were so different and Severus was so selfish. Maybe this was his punishment; maybe this was what he deserved.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed suddenly and Severus caught it out of the corner of his eye.

He looked at Harry whose hair was messy, face pale, eyes worn.

"Harry…" Severus said softly.

"I've ruined everything…" Harry signed. Harry's eyes lifted up to stare into Severus's. "Give up on me…please…You don't need this…you don't need me…"

"Don't…" Severus started with a dark look in his eyes.

"All I wanted…was to keep making you smile…because you never smiled…" Harry continued to sign. "I thought if I could just keep making you happy…you'd stay…But it's too much, I'm a wreck…"

Harry's eyes shined from the dim light in the room as those cheeks reddened.

"I always thought we'd hate each other…" the boy signed. "And you'd always be so mean…but we don't hate each other anymore…and you've been so kind to me…Let's leave it at that ok? It's more than enough…I…"

"Stop…" Severus said as he shut his eyes tightly. His head ached. "You don't understand…I've told you Harry…I care about you. There is no way to leave that and I will not attempt to. When we hated each other…all that time…I was not living, Harry…but you were always there, always getting in my way because I always put you in my way…You were such an enduring thing…Perhaps that's why…I…developed feelings for you…because you were able to tolerate me…to be kind to me…"

Harry's head was bowed and Severus knew the boy was trying to hide his eyes that were blossoming tears.

"I will stay here with you," Severus said in a whisper. "Don't ever try to push me away, Harry… when it isn't what you really want…"

They said nothing more to each other after that. Madame Pomfrey had returned to the Hospital Wing with a bowl of chicken broth for the boy as well as some fruit. Severus watched as Harry ate slowly. When the boy was done he had laid down and fallen asleep quickly. They were the only ones in the ward. The binds that Severus placed over Harry did not wake the boy. Severus managed to stomach some chicken broth as well.

It was 3 in the morning when Mrs. Weasley had shown up with Lupin. Molly Weasley was in tears by the time she left and once again Severus refused to switch with the man. His body may have felt tired but his eyes were steady upon Harry's sleeping face and in a few hours time would most likely be stuck that way for what could be an eternity. Severus wondered if Harry felt that he was doomed and he wondered how much hope the boy had left within him. The rain had started again; slowly at first but then it began pouring. Severus had a thought as it floated up in his mind. Perhaps Harry was fighting the curse; maybe that was why it wasn't constant. It gave him hope at least but he had to wonder if it had been much too late to start hoping now.

* * *

He was falling through painted shadows and his hands were stretching out to hold onto something, anything but there was nothing to grab onto. Colors streaked past him like the shine that jewels gave off. He wanted the madness to end; he wanted to be back to himself, to what he was made of. He wanted to live, to walk the familiar paths of his existence, to touch the feelings he was so used to, that were so old to him. But he just kept falling. He heard their voices and they were from memories, his memories and he knew they were a part of him and they lived like memories should live; falling in and out of his mind, hitting him like thunder and so bright like lightning.

There was a hole inside of him that was causing all of this, that was trapping him in this place and it was where love had been, had filled it up like a well but it was empty now, dry and barren and dark; he was stuck down inside of it where the light couldn't reach, where nothing could live or be born. Harry didn't want it to stay this way because he had known peace, had known a sophisticated gentleness, a genuine attachment and he could hear the sounds that strived around him. They were sounds of a piano, sorrowed notes that cradled his sight when those eyes would be watching, black and reflecting like the dew on a rose petal. He wanted to live for those eyes, for their kind company, their warm salvation.

But Harry did not know how to begin. He did not know how to begin to move on. He was standing still afraid to move, afraid to leave because he had held on so strongly to that love. A love like that couldn't die, could it? But he had failed in those moments where the Veil had took Sirius and the man had gone like smoke rising in the sky and Harry had been left with nothing. He just wanted to know why, why did Sirius have to die? Why were things like this in the world? And why couldn't he just slip away from it all just like Sirius had done?

No, he wouldn't slip away. Something was bound to him, to his heart; the feel of hot sand on bare skin, the rolling waves that glistened from the blazing sun, the golden tea that tasted sweet, the smell of paint and the blinding sunlight through wide windows, the touch of glass against his fingertips, the feeling of fabric from a coat, the line of black buttons, the shine of dress shoes, the frantic beat of that heart, the heat in his face, the nervousness in his hands, the buzzing affection on his lips, and that voice that lived so clearly in his senses, that was so familiar.

And it was Snape who was always in his thoughts. He was always crashing into Snape, no matter what, because they were connected even in this horrible, dark place. He would not let the man be alone; he would not leave the man alone. Harry couldn't stand the image of Snape always being alone in such solitude. This couldn't be the end; he was not done fighting.

* * *

It was still dark out when the morning came and Severus felt his shoulders that were stiff and his legs that might have fallen asleep. He wondered if everyone had taken a break to sleep like the mediwitch had. He loosened his white collar and it was then that Harry's eyes fluttered open and squinted. Harry looked around the room and his eyes met Severus's face and the boy was still himself. Harry had tried to move but sleepily noticed the binds around his body and winced.

"Harry, do you need something?" Severus was quick to ask as he stood up slowly. He felt somewhat light headed.

The boy nodded and the timid look in Harry's eyes reminded Severus of better times. He wanted to talk to Harry, to ask him how he felt and of many things but there was no time for it.

"Do you need the lavatory?" Severus suggested.

Harry nodded and Severus hated how defeated the boy looked. He knew the restraints were bothering him. Severus took out his wand and released the binds and Harry sat up. Severus held out the boy's glasses and Harry put them on and got out of the bed. Severus helped the boy to the restroom at the end of the ward. The light came on and Severus looked to the mirror that had long since been repaired. Harry went into a stall silently and Severus waited, holding his wand at his side.

After a moment the sound of the toilet flushing was heard and Harry opened the stall door and walked to the sink. Those hands shook as he washed them slowly. Severus followed the boy's eyes as they glanced here and there at the bandages his arms wore. Harry looked unsteady on his feet and he was now looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hands moved to smooth down his hair and to rub his neck.

"Harry…" Severus called softly.

Harry's eyes moved quickly to stare into his own. Those cheeks were red against the darkness under the boy's eyes. Harry turned to face Severus and walked lightly over to him. Harry was shivering softly. The boy's feet were bare so the floor must have felt like ice to him. Those eyes searched Severus's face. It was always silent moments like these that made him forget where they were, what was happening and he had never known just how much they meant to him. He could hear the boy's breathing, unsteady against those parted lips.

"I am sorry…I wanted to protect you…" Severus spoke gently. "But I…"

"It's not your fault…" Harry signed. "I always get myself into trouble…you know that…"

It was difficult to keep this distance between them, to know that Harry could change at any moment, could try to attack him and his heart shook against the anger and regretful feelings that stormed around in his chest making his body tense. He wanted to be closer, he had crossed that line long ago but had he really reached Harry yet? He did not know just how far away the boy was, how far away those innocent eyes were, how far away that bright light was burning. But they were together, afraid and cold and desperate. His feet moved without warning, without permission from his brain and his hands were holding the sides of Harry's face with that carefulness. The boy had let out a faint gasp before Severus was kissing those timid lips.

He couldn't stop it from happening, from how distracted he was by wanting to be with this boy, and it was so painful to know that there was nothing he could do, that he couldn't save him from this forsaken curse, that there was never any answer, that he never had the answers, that he could never ever do what others had done for Harry and he wished, he prayed as his eyes burned, that they could somehow stay together even if the doubts were too great, even if he kept lying to Harry, even if he just couldn't ever tell him the truth.

He kissed Harry deeply, strongly and with a tense, shaky passion as his eyes were shut tightly against the ache in his chest and hands. He could not be here without Harry. Harry and Severus were the ones left, were the ones spared from the hands of Death and he had always known that. Severus could imagine how unwanted the boy had been, how neglected and shunned he had been as a little boy and with that they were the same only separated by dark years where Severus could have sworn he had died long ago. So he kissed Harry and gave in to far away dreams and desires, lost in sorrow and the echoes of memories of old where the boy's voice had flickered against his ears.

But it had been a mistake though he had constantly been the one to make mistakes. Severus did not know why certain things happened, he did not know what dark magic had done to the boy, he did not know who or what could want to break the boy so badly. And a part of him wanted to give up in the moment Harry's hands had tightened so powerfully against his wrists, a part of him wanted to die when he felt a burning pain against his ribs as something had been broken there, a part of him remembered what it had been like to know that the one he loved had been killed when he felt his body crash against something hard, his head colliding with metal and the skin had been broken, blood gushing from the gash created there. He did not succumb to the darkness that threatened to take his vision.

He saw the boy run out the door with such speed and Severus stumbled to get to his feet while snatching up his wand. It was painful to run after Harry because of the fire in his ribs and he was sure some had been broken. He was done being surprised by the strength Harry had because of the curse. He was only able to follow the boy by sudden glimpses of his body going up the staircases. He had tried to hit the boy with any spell that would slow him down but they all missed, Harry was just too fast. Severus struggled to make his legs work as he raced after Harry. He didn't know what drove Harry's body to do such random things but there was no time to question anything. He just had to get to Harry.

It seemed like forever of chasing the boy as he could barely breathe, his lungs felt so tight. There were times when he had thought he lost sight of Harry only to guess correctly of what way he went. He felt disoriented as he climbed the many stairs of the Astronomy Tower and the higher he went the colder the air became. It was agony to realize that there was one thing the boy was trying to do, he was going to jump as the Astronomy Tower was the highest point of the whole castle. He didn't care to know how a curse could be so complex or if the boy could be possessed after all. All he cared for was for it to end, it had to end, there had to be a way.

* * *

He was kneeling on a floor of black glass. All around him there was darkness and he heard the cries of ravens. He had woken up here so suddenly and this place was deathly cold as his breath came out in white mist. He knew they were here with him, those ravens with their eyes so black but he caught glimpses of red. Tom Riddle was standing before him looking menacing, his eyes full of anger.

"Why are you fighting it? Don't you want to be free? Don't you want to see him?" Riddle spat and Harry wondered what had happened to his composure. "It is your fault he died. You deserve death, it is the only way."

Harry shut his eyes tightly. He would not let Riddle's words sink into him. He needed to fight it, to believe he could break free, that his soul could break away from this cursed place and that his mind would return to the world in which he came from.

"Your will is gone here!" Riddle shouted. "You have nothing else, you are alone!"

Harry forced his head up as his hands were placed firmly upon the ground. He glared at Tom Riddle and it was like glaring at Voldemort. He knew Riddle was pathetic despite how powerful the Dark wizard was but this wasn't real, Riddle wasn't real, he was just a memory and he didn't care where it had come from all he cared about was leaving this place, of having control over himself again, of his will and his faith.

"Stop filling yourself with lies!" Riddle spat. "You have no hope…Your dreams are useless…Your mind will crawl back inside itself…You will give in…"

Harry struggled to stand, to force his body to work under the weight of the power of Riddle's words, the force that kept this world here. Harry's body was trembling as anger and hatred for this man rose within his chest.

"You are weak and so dispensable to them, they're just using you," Riddle hissed and his light eyes were shadowed. "Give up now and you won't have to feel like you have failed them over and over!"

_You get mad so easily. _Harry thought despite the great strain on his mind.

Riddle clenched his jaw.

_You're the one who's failed; countless times…You know what I mean… _Harry clenched his fists together tightly.

"You are a fool," Riddle said in a harsh whisper. "Nothing can stop me, especially not a pathetic, dejected boy like you. You are nothing."

_You're not real. None of this is real._

Riddle lunged at him, tackling him to the hard floor, his icy hands wrapping themselves around Harry's neck. Harry struggled against the man's weight and his own hands flew to Riddle's. Harry couldn't breathe. If this wasn't real than why could he feel this?

"I will choke the life out of you, Harry Potter," Riddle said venomously. "Then you will have no choice but to accept death…"

Something inside Harry's heart was burning. He kept struggling as the glass underneath him was cracking. It couldn't be real, this wasn't real.

* * *

Severus was fighting for breath when he reached the top room of the tower. The wooden floor was wet with rain that had swept in from the wind. The metal rings that were around the celestial orb were turning slowly in mid air. The sun had begun to rise and the soft rain was falling upon Harry as the boy was standing, with his back to him, his body on the other side of the railing on the ledge. Those hands held the bars and any moment now they could let go. Severus could see the boy through the rings. There was something different about this Harry; the boy's body was trembling.

"Harry…" Severus called, his wand tight in his right hand.

Harry's head turned and the boy's expression was one of fear.

"Harry…come away from the ledge…" Severus said and his voice was shaky.

Harry shook his head as his eyes were full of panic.

"I can't…I can't," Harry's lips mouthed and the boy's hands held tighter to the metal and there was strain in his arms, the muscles tensing as if Harry was pulling but his hands didn't want to let go.

"You can fight this Harry," Severus said and he was taking slow steps forward, getting a better angle to see the boy. Something was telling him to make no use of his wand, his instinct perhaps.

"No…No…I can't…" Harry said silently but Severus read those lips perfectly. "It's too strong…"

"Don't let it win, Harry…" Severus kept going as his body was easing forward around the rings.

"Please…" Harry forced his lips to move and Severus could see the shadow appearing and disappearing from those eyes.

"Just fight it, don't give in, Harry, I'm right here…" Severus was saying what he thought was right with such a gentleness. His heart was crashing in his chest. "You know me, Harry…You can remember the good, isn't it worth the bad? Harry…please listen…keep looking at me...don't look down…"

"I can't…" Harry's lips moved. Harry's grip on the bar was lessening as his fingers were pulling away barely.

"You can, Harry," Severus said and his voice was stronger. "You can break it…" Severus's body was trembling as he was closer to the boy now. He knew Harry could do this and he knew he had to get the boy away from the ledge.

"I'm sorry…" Harry mouthed suddenly and then his eyes glazed over with gray and those hands slipped away from the bar and the boy jumped.

Severus lunged forward, his wand out but as he came over the bar he could see that Harry was holding onto to lower part of the ledge of the rounded curved stone, his fingertips of his right hand gripping on as tight as he could.

"I've got you!" Severus called as his body came over the metal railing. Harry's eyes were wide and afraid. Severus held on to the bar as his body leaned down, his left hand reaching for Harry's wrist just as Harry's fingers lost their grip. He caught the boy's wrist and held tightly. Despite the pain in his side Severus hoisted the boy up and they went falling to the wooden floor, both of their bodies wet from the rain. Severus was on his knees beside Harry who lay on his back. And the boy seemed to be struggling against the unknown force of the curse.

"Harry…" Severus said in a whisper. He took Harry's left hand in his own and held tightly. He knew, he just knew this could be what Harry needed, he knew he was fighting the curse off no matter how dark it was, no matter how many centuries it had existed. He believed in Harry. Harry wouldn't give up as long as there was someone who knew he could do it. He had never believed in the boy before, he had always thought he was useless and arrogant and foolish and incapable of anything but they were different now, they kept each other here, they pulled at each other.

Harry's eyes were shut tight, his teeth clenched, his face in such agony. The boy's body writhed against whatever was fighting for control over his body.

"I'm here Harry…" Severus said quickly, his voice breathless, the blood from his wound soaking the white collar of his shirt. "Keep fighting…"

Harry's breathing was labored until it stopped completely and the boy's flushed face began to turn pale. Severus's heart was constricted and he was too afraid to think clearly, he hadn't been thinking clearly at all these past few days since this had all began. He needed to reach Harry, to bring him back, to go back to them being together because they lived off one another, they needed one another.

He knew it in this moment as he watched Harry resist, as he struggled with all he was worth, as those eyes opened just barely to fall onto his own.

He had fallen in love with Harry.

He loved Harry.

It was the only real thing in this moment, in these seconds of his life as the sun was rising, breaking away the gray clouds. Of course he was in love, what else could it be? What else could be in his heart when he looked at Harry? When all he could ever think of was Harry? It was clear now, it was as simple as night turning into day and he let it in.

Severus closed his eyes tightly, his hand still holding Harry's, and he leaned in swiftly to blanket Harry's parted lips with his own.

* * *

Harry was delusional. He was seeing things, images that were his memories before his eyes. The colors were mixed. There was sunlight, there was a rainfall and lightning, a fire burning, tiny black and white things swimming, dark eyes that he longed to stare into forever and he heard things; piano music, a dog barking, laughter, thunder, voices of everyone he knew until they all sounded like once voice, a velvety, kind voice.

Tom Riddle was gripping his neck so tightly but Harry fought against the darkness, against the despair and the hole in heart and Riddle began to turn into something else, black birds, ravens and his body was becoming them and they were all on top of Harry, around him, surrounding him and he struggled against the body of ravens as they tried to drown him with their cawed screeches. He felt their wings moving frantically, the heat from their bodies, the sharp sting of their beaks and the quick scratches of their claws and he was engulfed in them and that was all the world was as it quaked. He would suffocate because of them.

Until there was light. It bled into this place, breaking through above him and showering him in the bright glow. His heart was pounding and he could feel the vibration of life against his lips. He reached up with his hands, his eyes wide with hope and relief and something warm came around him, lifting him from the deep sorrow and regret and his soul slipped free from this tainted world, his mind was free, he was finally free.

* * *

The rain had stopped and the wind was cold and the sun had risen as Harry's eyes were met with those black pools and he felt the warm lips leave his own. His body was settled against the floor. He felt extremely tired but he was overwhelmed with relief. The thing that had been gripping his mind was gone. The dark fog was lifted. He felt his fingers hold onto to Snape's hand. He felt the tears that welled up in his eyes. He was saved, it was over, the curse was gone.

"Harry…" Snape said softly.

Harry shut his eyes tightly against that wonderful voice. He knew he had been angry with the man before but there was no anger left, there was no confusion. He wanted to be with Snape no matter what, no matter that his voice was still lost, no matter that he didn't know the answer, no matter that he still felt the guilt inside of him. It wasn't wrong to be happy with Snape because Snape was helping him get better; Snape gave him the strength to keep going, to face the deep ache in his heart, to keep moving forward and there shouldn't be any shame because of that.

He opened his eyes to stare into the black. The sunlight caught in the man's hair and it outlined that black coat. He smiled weakly at the worry in the man's face. He was always worrying Snape. But he was so tired.

"You're ok," Snape said in a whisper.

Harry shivered against the cold morning air and nodded somewhat. Things were fading away from him but it felt so good to not be afraid, to just be here with the man as the day was barely waking.

"Harry…"

It was all he heard before sleep took him kindly.

* * *

"Severus."

Severus's eyes shot up to look at Dumbledore who was standing just behind the rings. He didn't know why he had panicked and he thought quickly when the man had gotten there and if he had seen him kiss the boy. It took a moment before his voice worked again.

"It's gone, Headmaster," Severus said. "He…was able to break it himself…I…"

"Severus, let's get the boy back to Hospital Wing," Dumbledore said calmly. "You look as if you need it as well."

Severus let the breath he was holding go. He felt like he could fall over now and sleep but he knew there were things to be done. And the next hour hit him like a blur. Madame Pomfrey fussed over Severus's head wound and his broken ribs and he did nothing to stop her because he was much too exhausted to. Harry was put in another bed and he slept soundly. His bandages on his arms had been removed, the wounds had been healed perfectly.

There were many people that came and went. Molly Weasley had dropped in to see Harry and she had tears of joy in her eyes, Lupin looked relieved, Ms. Gardiner had that smile on her face, and Dumbledore, despite how fatigued the old wizard looked, was smiling softly. Members of the Staff came in to be briefed by the Headmaster. Everyone seemed to have looked a bit taller that morning knowing that the boy was alright.

Since the search of the whole school had proven that there was nothing dangerous the students were allowed to leave their dorms to breakfast however classes were to resume the next day. Most of the Staff as Severus noticed had gone back to bed having been up for the better part of 2 days but Severus remained sitting by Harry's bedside. There was nothing more to be discussed over the curse until the boy woke up but for now things seemed to settle down nicely as Severus stared out onto the crisp autumn morning. The sky was blue with large white clouds and the winds were chilly. Severus felt renewed in some way as he sat there as Harry slept. He was glad that the stress had been lifted, he was thankful that Harry had once again survived something that was bigger than himself. People had always mentioned that Harry Potter could make it through anything.

* * *

Harry woke up feeling warm and comfortable. He was lying on his side and the air was cold but refreshing. His blurred vision fell onto that of Snape whose head was lying on his folded arms on the bed, still sitting in the wooden chair. The man was sleeping. Harry slowly reached for his glasses that were set next to the water jug and put them on. He felt the heat rise in his face as he stared at the man. Snape looked so calm, so peaceful while he slept. His face was free of tension, of emotion, and the way his black hair fell around his face; the sight made Harry's heart flutter.

There was a white bandage on the right side of Snape's forehead. Harry didn't want to move, he didn't want to disturb the man but he would need to get out of bed. He needed to wash up and change. He guessed it was about noon since the sun was high. He felt weak and shivery. He didn't want to wake the man but as soon as he even began to sit up in bed as slowly as he could Snape's eyes snapped open and he sat up so fast the chair almost fell backward but Snape came forward and the legs of the chair hit the ground.

Harry smiled softly. He supposed Snape hadn't meant to fall asleep since he didn't seem to be the kind of person to do such a thing. Snape's eyes met Harry's and the man brushed a hand through his hair. Harry's cheeks reddened. He wondered how his own hair looked and quickly began to smooth it down and sure enough it was sticking up in odd ways.

"Good…" Snape began to say and he found the clock on the wall, "…afternoon."

Harry only nodded and he hated how he felt embarrassed.

"How do you feel?" Snape asked lightly.

"Groggy…" Harry signed and his hands felt very stiff. "I need to take a shower…"

Snape nodded once.

"Do you…remember what you did when you left my office?" the man asked slowly and carefully.

Harry waited a moment and realized that he didn't. There was nothing, just the memory of waking up from the dream where he had seen his mother and wanting to see Snape and everything else besides the bits of horrifying and desperately confusing moments where he had come to from the curse's control was blank. He wondered how it could all just disappear like that even though he didn't feel any sort of loss because it felt normal since it wasn't there to begin with.

Harry shook his head.

"I don't remember," Harry signed.

"It's alright," Snape said. Harry noticed the man looked tired.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed. "For getting angry with you…and running out like that…And I'm sorry for worrying you…"

Snape was silent as that composed face stared back at him but Harry could see the reprieve in the man's dark eyes.

"I am sorry…for what I did to you…I scared you…I won't do such a thing again…" Snape said in almost a whisper.

Harry could remember what the man meant. He could remember that Snape had held him down harshly while the man was on top of him but for some reason all that did was make Harry's cheeks burn. He had been scared then because his emotions had been crazed and he had been so confused. It was good now that he felt some sort of control over himself, that he was ready to truly face everything and he wondered where had he gotten this sudden courage from. But it put his mind at ease to be able to breathe deeply again.

"I will inform the Headmaster that you are awake and I will get you some clothes," Snape said as he stood.

Harry nodded and it was a second before Snape turned around and Harry watched the man walk out of the ward. Even though Harry didn't know what had happened to him he wasn't afraid because he had learned to walk this life being careful and he had overcome whatever curse or spell he had been under. He wasn't going to let it bother him because he was going do need to put all of his efforts into getting his voice back.

After a few moments Snape had returned with some of Harry's clothes. Harry found it a bit difficult to stand up and walk but he took his clothes from the man and hurried off to the restroom's shower stall. He had wanted to go back to his dorm to shower but Madame Pomfrey had refused to let Harry leave the Wing. So he washed quickly and it felt good to stand underneath the hot water. His muscles ached terribly; whatever had possessed his body hadn't been merciful upon it. Harry dressed in blue jeans, a light gray cotton shirt and a dark blue and white plaid long sleeve button up shirt. His shaky hands fumbled with the buttons in the restroom until Snape had walked in, coming up to Harry to finish the line of pearl white buttons up to the collar.

Harry looked quickly to the door and Snape smirked.

"Come, you need to eat," the man said.

And those words made him realize that he was starving. Madame Pomfrey served them both a lunch of potato soup and sandwiches in which Harry ate quickly and enjoyed his glass of cold pumpkin juice. Snape didn't eat much as his eyes were looking out the large window by Harry's bed. With a full stomach Harry felt sleepy again but it wasn't long after they were done with lunch that Dumbledore had come into the ward with Ms. Gardiner. She wore the coat that Harry had seen in her in before over a white blouse and light pink skirt. She walked so easily in her high heels. Her hair was done to the side in a braid. She was smiling softly and Harry was happy to see her.

Snape had moved away from Harry when Dumbledore sat down to talk with him. Ms. Gardiner had searched his mind once more for the forgotten memory but it was gone from Harry's mind. They left the ward, Ms. Gardiner giving him a quick hug before heading out. He was sorry that he caused so much trouble for everyone but was happy that it was over. He didn't want to remember the scenes that were stuck in his head of his sliced cuts on his arms and that pain, of choking Professor Royle, and of being on the Astronomy Tower about to fall to his end. He kept away from all of it.

It was almost 3 in the afternoon when Ron and Hermione had rushed into the Hospital Wing and Hermione had thrown her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Harry hugged her back. Snape had left the ward then and Harry had tried not to feel disappointed. They spent the next half hour talking about what McGonagall had done as the whole school had been woken up when the search had been made. Harry was relieved that none of this was to reach _The_ _Daily Prophet_.

They had brought Harry his notepad and pen and when they left Harry spent the next few hours being bored and making ink doodles in the notepad. He wished he could leave the ward, he felt tired and sore but fine none-the-less. But Madame Pomfrey only gave Harry a Vitamin Replenishing Potion and a Strengthening Potion. He wondered what Snape was doing and why hadn't the man returned to the Hospital Wing. He was growing anxious being stuck in bed.

When it was almost dinner time Harry had gone to the mediwitch and demonstrated that he was fine by doing jumping jacks and pleading with her to let him leave and she finally gave in. He had been given his wand and feeling overjoyed he didn't even mind that he had to be walked to the Great Hall by Madame Pomfrey because of the heightened fear that Harry might be attacked. He was all too happy to sit at the Gryffindor table despite the murmurs and gossip of what had taken place over the past day and a half. No one asked him anything about it. It was nice to feel at ease and warm and it was good to laugh at Seamus's jokes and Harry could practically feel the tension leaving the student body. He knew they had that lingering fear that Voldemort had placed within them but it didn't stop them all from filling the Great Hall with chatter.

Snape wasn't at the Staff table however and it was 5 minutes to 7pm and Harry wondered if he should go to the man's office or not. What if the man had been resting and Harry would disrupt him? It was a bit fast for things to fall back to normal after what had happened but he didn't expect everyone to slow down for him. He wasn't as tired now as he had rested for the entire day in bed. He felt an eagerness within him and a want in his body, he wanted to see Snape.

Before he could make up his mind Professor McGonagall had come down from the Staff table and had walked over to Harry. She looked cheerful but weary.

"Mr. Potter, I am to take you to Professor Snape's office for your lessons, I'm sure you know why," she said.

Harry nodded. It was strange to walk beside her all the way down to the dreary dungeons which felt much colder to Harry since he was not wearing a jumper or coat. She left him at Snape's office door which Harry was hesitant to knock but he did anyway. It was a long moment before Snape answered. Harry was almost sure the man would look irritated but no, Snape looked much better than he had this morning and he actually gave Harry a look of content when those black eyes fell upon his.

Snape let him in and before Harry could tell the man anything he said softly:

"We will resume our lessons tomorrow night. Do you have any objections to that?"

Harry shook his head.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked gently as he stepped closer to Harry.

Harry nodded. Snape's eyes were searching Harry's own and before Harry knew it Snape had embraced him strongly. Harry's nose was met with the scent of that nice cologne and the warmth of Snape's body. He shut his eyes tightly and pressed himself against the man more. Snape didn't say anything for a long moment but Harry hadn't expected the man to. His legs felt shaky. Snape's heart was beating fast and Harry could swear that his body was trembling slightly.

Snape came away and Harry opened his eyes slowly. Snape's hands were holding Harry's waist but they came up to hold Harry's face gently. Those hands were so warm. Harry blinked softly and then closed his eyes when he knew Snape was leaning in to kiss him. Harry stayed still as Snape was kissing him deeply and he could feel the slight desperation within the long kiss. Snape's hand moved through Harry's hair. Harry's bangs were brushed back as Snape's strong hand moved through his dark brown locks.

Harry was lost in the pleasure as those powerful hands were touching him all over as they kissed. Snape's lips came away only to start their short journey to Harry's neck and Harry stood there, shaking and panting somewhat as Snape's hands were doing things they hadn't done before. They moved passed his groin, passing his forming erection as the tiredness was completely gone from Harry's body and he felt so stimulated now. Snape's hands were feeling up the back of Harry's thighs against the fabric of his jeans and Harry wanted to moan when those hands came over his arse.

Snape was biting his neck softly as the man's hands pressed firmly against Harry's bottom, rubbing it before traveling up to slip under his jeans. Harry gasped slightly as Snape was kissing him again and feeling Harry there through his tight boxers. The feel of the man's fingertips pressing against his arse was enough to make Harry hard. Snape moved forward, his hands coming away from Harry's backside and Snape pushed them closer together, they stumbled backward and Harry was pressed up against one of the shelves. Jars rattled and Snape was breathing heavily, his right leg coming in-between Harry's legs, his thigh moving in, pressing hard against Harry's erection. It was exhilarating and different and he felt so good, so alive with the man. His hands trembled as they were set onto the shelf, feeling the wood and glass.

Snape was kissing him so deeply and Harry was spent for breath, dizzy but his heart was racing, his body hot with desire as Snape's hands were feeling up his chest, pushing up both of the shirts he wore to find the soft, tight skin of Harry's torso. Harry shuddered. The need in his pants was too much for him as he began to rub against the man's thigh. Snape was so in control, so dominating and Harry's senses were driven toward pleasure. His nipples were hard from the cold air in the room despite the fire that crackled in the hearth. He turned his head, his lips parting from Snape's and he was gasping for breath, exposing his neck for the man to give attention to it and Snape did quickly.

Harry's erection was painful now and his eyes looked over to the door that led to Snape's private quarters. If Harry was going to get any sort of relief from this maddening arousal they would need to move but Snape wasn't going anywhere, he stayed against Harry, sucking upon his neck softly. Harry let out a silent moan as he rubbed against the man's strong thigh. He could definitely finish this way if he just kept going but that would be more than embarrassing for him. Harry stopped moving when Snape began to unbutton his pants.

What was Snape doing? They should move. The door was locked and everything but this wasn't their usual setting for such things. Harry's zipper buzzed down and Snape was kissing him again. Harry's legs were trembling softly but his muscles tensed because Snape had come away and his hands were slipping down Harry's jeans and boxers together. Harry felt the great heat rise in his cheeks and the embarrassment. His own hands moved down to stop the man but Snape came close, pressing his thigh against Harry's groin and Harry wanted nothing more than to grind against it, he was too aroused. Snape's lips were against Harry's ear.

"Just let me make you feel good, Harry…" Snape whispered. "It's all I want."

A shiver went up Harry's spine and he blinked quickly. Harry's hands came away from Snape's after a moment.

"You smell good," Snape whispered gently. "Your skin is so soft."

Snape had brought Harry's pants and boxers down somewhat and those fingertips were dancing over his hips and the beginning of his thighs. Before any sort of warning Snape slipped down Harry's pants with his boxers in one movement and Harry's erection bobbed free, the cold air making him gasp and shiver but he knew he was self-conscious. Snape wasn't looking at him but down at his hard member. Harry shut his eyes tightly but he didn't expect to feel the man's presence leave him, his thigh coming away quickly. Harry opened his eyes and they widened as he was now looking down at Snape who was now on his knees.

Harry's heart skipped over itself. Snape's face was only inches from his erect member. Harry's vision was shaky as he tried his best to take in the scene before him. It was such a difference, something new again and Harry couldn't breathe. Was Snape really planning to do such a thing? No, Harry wouldn't be able to handle it, he was too embarrassed, it was too much even if it was tempting because of his raging hormones. How could the man want to do something like that? Harry's body had begun to tremble.

Snape's black eyes were on him now and Harry was lost in how the shadows were made on that face that he was so attracted to, the fire put a light on Snape's body that was enticing to Harry's eyes. But Harry needed to think straight, he couldn't let Snape do this. Harry was about to move, to begin to protest but Snape's hands came to his wrists, holding them still. The man looked so composed, so intimidating and those eyes were alluring, those lips so willing to give him that kind of pleasure, such an intimate, sexual affection…Harry shook his head quickly, both to tell the man no and to get rid of the provocative thoughts that were clouding Harry's mind.

But Snape only smirked and Harry's hard member twitched. What was happening to his body? How could he feel like this? Snape was so hypnotizing.

"Harry," Snape called softly and those eyes were glistening. "_Say _you don't want it."

Somehow it was the most seductive he had ever heard the man speak and it shouldn't be fair that he would tell him that but all coherent thought was lost when Snape's heated hand came around Harry's member. Harry shut his eyes tightly when he felt the man's hot tongue against the tip. His legs trembled and he had to grip the shelf behind him as that slick, skilled tongue circled around the head. Lights sprung behind his eyelids when he felt Snape's mouth come around the head and then he took in Harry's member completely and Harry moaned silently, his heart shuddering and his body on fire as he felt what it was like to be inside the man's mouth. It was so hot and wet and Snape began to suck gently and slowly, his hands over Harry's thighs holding firmly.

Harry couldn't believe the man was doing such a thing to him and it was unbelievable at how good this was making him feel. He had never felt like this before, not a pleasure this sensual and he didn't understand how his member could be this sensitive to the man's tongue and he was lost in how deep Snape was taking him in as those strong hands messaged his thighs. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down, his head falling gently and Harry's eyes were shining, half open, his lips parted and he watched the man feeling as if he were in a great euphoric trance. Snape was the one who was stunning and it was so different, so unreal to see him like this, eyes closed, that mouth taking Harry in and out. He forgot that he should be embarrassed, he forgot that his face felt like it was on fire, he forgot how much his legs were shaking, how tightly he gripped onto the wood of the shelf with his hands.

The motion grew faster, slicker, tighter, and there was hardly any sound in the room besides Harry's ragged breathing and the sound of the crackling flames. And he realized that despite how angry he had been before, how afraid and horrible it had all been, that it was over, it was done and he was here with Snape feeling this paramount pleasure and this was tonight, a new night and a new experience and it was wonderful. Harry didn't care now about any danger or the fear he had, he didn't care where they were just so long as he could see those deep black pools that were looking up at him now and Harry knew he was close and he didn't know what to do. The pressure and heat were at that limit and he needed to let the man know; it was so dizzying and good, so ensnaring and his senses were lost, his mind full of nothing but what he was seeing and feeling. The edge was coming too fast.

And Snape's tongue did something that made Harry gasp and moan mutely but his eyes shut tightly, his breath lost and he couldn't stop it as he came, spilling into that hot crevice and Harry saw stars and everything was spinning and his body trembled, every muscle tensing, clenching against the immeasurable pleasure. Harry fell from the height of his orgasm slowly as the motion around his member was slow.

He didn't want to open his eyes because he was entirely embarrassed now, his cheeks as red as can be, his legs feeling like they would give in any moment. But he had to look and he did just in time to see Snape's mouth leave his member, those lips were dark and shined. Harry clumsily began to pull up his pants, his hands shaking and Snape stood, his full height over him now and Harry glanced up. His whole body was tingling and he was much too lightheaded.

Harry did up his pants, fumbling with his jean's button and then he looked up at Snape and wondered just how the man could still look so refined after doing such a private thing. He didn't know how to act now and he was feeling foolish and dizzy. Snape's hand came to the side of Harry's face and Harry let out a quick breath. He looked like he wanted so say something but he remained silent.

"Don't just look at me," Harry signed shakily as his body was trembling, his face flushed with humiliation. Harry's face scrunched up slightly and Snape only smirked though it was sort of a smile. "Don't look so composed…I…why…why all of a sudden…?" But Harry didn't know what else to tell the man.

"Let's have some tea, shall we?" Snape said lightly and he walked away from Harry leaving him standing up against the shelf, his legs unsure if they could actually walk. Harry's hand came to clutch at his shirt over his heart because it was still pounding. How could anyone make him feel like this? Like he just couldn't breathe enough, like he needed more than just oxygen, it was so fantastic.

So they had tea on the comfortable black couch before the warm fire and Harry had settled himself by laying his head on the man's lap. Snape didn't speak much to him as they were together and Harry wondered if Snape was just too relieved to say anything but he was too preoccupied with the feeling of those fingertips brushing through his hair. Yes, the things he had to see were horrifying, yes he did not know who or what had cursed him or possessed him, and he had thought that he was going insane but here was now, here was this night and he wouldn't ruin it, he wouldn't ask Snape anymore personal questions if he could help it because he couldn't stop himself from giving in to those eyes, from wanting this peace, this warmth that he had prayed for.

"Harry…" Snape whispered.

Harry opened his eyes and waited for what Snape was going to say, looking up slightly to see Snape's face and the man was staring at the fire. He looked like he was thinking.

"It's nothing…" Snape said softly and his eyes found Harry's and he looked content.

Those lips fell over his own and Harry tasted mint and tea and he had never felt happier.

* * *

She was looking out at the moon, her cheeks cold from the wind. A calmness had settled in her heart finally after all Sophia had been through. She was relieved but her skin still felt the fear crawling over it. She was glad that Harry was alright and that he had been strong enough to fight off the curse but of course Harry was strong enough. Despite his condition and his emotional instability Harry was a fighter, he hung on no matter what, his spirit was returning and it gave Sophia hope.

She placed her hands on the balcony's railing and remembered how many times she had come here to look out at the sky and the stars and the mountains that surrounded the school. The lake was glistening, dark and still like it always was when autumn settled in. The biting cold made her shiver but her coat was warm. She had known long ago that she wasn't a girl anymore, that she had grown up, she was a woman now and people always expected her to be married already, to start a family but her life was too busy, she was too busy, her purpose in life was to help those who needed it and even if they couldn't realize that Sophia was always there waiting to open her door.

"I thought you would have gone home already…" It was a voice all too familiar to her and she bowed her head and sighed softly, inaudible to the man that was under the archway.

"Just felt like coming back here for a little bit," Sophia answered. She heard his footsteps and soon he was standing next to her and she smelt apples and shook her head against the memories that threatened to enter her mind.

"You just get prettier…even if you're older…" Liam said in a light whisper but there was a carefulness to it because he was unsure.

Sophia looked to him, her dark green eyes brilliant against the moonlight. Her expression was unreadable. She put her cold hands in her coat pockets.

Liam's gray eyes were nervous but determined.

"You always say people deserve second chances…" he said and his voice was raspy.

Sophia looked away, her lips parted and she shook her head once.

"You've already had so many of those, Liam," Sophia said and she began to walk away but his hand came to hold her arm quickly to stop her. Her eyes shined as she looked up at the man. It didn't help that her heart had sped up.

"I can make this one count…" he said and there was desperation in that voice.

"You're unbelievable," Sophia said and she shrugged off his hold.

"Sophia…" Liam said with a higher volume.

"Don't…" she said and it was taking everything she had to not let her voice shake. "Don't do this…don't keep doing _this_, Liam…"

She was walking away, leaving him standing there.

"I won't give up," he called. "I get that from you, you know…"

Sophia was many feet away from him, her heels clicking against the stone and she struggled against it but the gentle smile came on her face anyway.

* * *

A/N:

This will be sort of long if you care to read it.

First thing, thank you for reading and I really hope it wasn't horrible, I struggled with this chapter and from here on out things should fall into place with the plot but like I said, hope it wasn't bad or too random and if it was I apologize but for those of you who did enjoy it I am thankful and I hope you look forward to the next chapter.

If anyone has any questions or confusion about the curse I just would like to explain it a little bit.

It basically is like possession and it is very Dark Magic and centuries old. Its purpose is to cause the cursed person to end their life in any way possible. A strong will can fight it off but it is much worse than the Imperius Curse. I know it is cliché and mushy but I would like to think that love could break the curse and it was a good moment for Snape to realize he has fallen in love with Harry.

I got the idea for the curse since the Bloody Baron ended his life after he killed Helena Ravenclaw in the forest in Albania.

I hope no one minded a bit of Ms. Gardiner's POV.

Completely different subject:

Having done more research on BSL I just wanted to let the readers know that because sign language does not exactly follow the grammatical rules of English I still write whatever Harry is signing in proper grammar for the most part even if his signs do not exactly match to his sentences. Most simple phrases do such as greetings and simple questions.

I would like to describe Harry as being a small signer even though his gestures/emotions/expressions are big his signing isn't fluent or as fast as one would be with BSL. And seeing as how he is just a person who learned English first before BSL he still speaks or moves his lips to the proper words he is trying to say even if he has no voice which most fluent BSL users do not do because it is not a part of BSL to lip sync every word but Harry does because he obviously is so used to talking.

I know it takes a while for a person to become fluent in BSL unless they are born with hearing loss or born deaf because then they would start learning at a very young age. And with a BSL class or program you have a certain amount of hours that you practice and learn but seeing as how Harry devoted himself to the language for weeks and weeks and with the help of Ms. Gardiner I would think he would become almost fluent at the language but I also imagine Harry being somewhat clumsy with his signing, especially when he is nervous or flustered. As for Snape and Hermione learning well, they are very intelligent people who when they read books practically soak up all of the information like having photographic memory. (I also can imagine if Snape were to ever sign he would be more fluent than Harry himself).

I also learned about SSE (Sign Supported English) which is probably what Harry has been doing in combination with BSL (which many deaf people are influenced by) since he lip syncs and does more gesture work and still writes notes to help him communicate.

If you have read this thank you, I just wanted to clarify because I don't know all that much about BSL and the deaf community so I'm no expert but I still wanted to incorporate it into the story as well as Harry's peers taking the time to learn it as well.

Another thing, I am in Beginner's ASL (American Sign Language) at my college and it has so far been such a fun experience and has connected me to Harry more as well as to this story.

I hope everyone is doing well and I hope you look forward to the next chapter. :)

I apologize if there are any errors or mistakes and any confusion. If you have questions don't hesitate to PM me or to point out mistakes. I hope you can review. Thank you so much to those who have kept up with this story and to those who are new to it.


	30. Chapter 29: The Loneliness We Keep

A/N: I hope this chapter didn't take too long to get out to the readers. I would like to thank those of you who reviewed the last chapter. Thank you for your support, it's very much appreciated.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

**I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. **

**Warning: This chapter contains Graphic and Mature Content and M/M. Don't like it, don't read it, thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter 29: The Loneliness We Keep**

There was a sense of fragility inside of him. Sleep was a stranger to him that night. Like most nights he had taken to burying himself in a book for many chapters until he knew he could sleep. His eyes were tired but he was left staring at the ceiling dealing with the sentiments that were instilled in his bleary senses. He took in a soft breath and the air was chilled. He briefly wondered what it would be like to wake up laying next to someone; what it would be like to feel the warmth of another life against his skin when sleep would vanish from his body; what it would be like if he could open his eyes to see the boy sleeping soundly right by his side. He couldn't lie. It was definitely something he wanted to experience; it was ultimately something he wanted to become familiar to.

But Severus was alone in this still cold night in his bed. The small lit flame in the lamp upon his bedside was a mere flicker of heated life trying desperately to keep the dimness it created through the opaque shadows in the room. He had been so used to solitary confinement, had been so used to the absolute dead silence in the night. Long ago it had brought him a miserable comfort however now he could do nothing but wish to see the boy's smile, those bright eyes that seemed to be the only light he needed. He felt like he was a servant to that innocent gaze, to capture the outline of that body; his hands just couldn't get enough of feeling that body.

But he couldn't sleep. This night was different. Because he had so easily accepted the love he felt for Harry and he had no such sullenness to stop it, not any kind of sharp edge cruelty or ignorant meanness to deny it. He knew he stood on shaky ground. He knew the dangers that would come for loving Harry and he knew there was a great chance of failure; that he would fail, that in the end there would be nothing he could do to fight against the threatening dark days ahead; that he would not find a way to keep the boy safe, that just possibly he had always been doomed from the start.

And yet it didn't stop him from pretending. He could see him and the boy together, outside of this place, out in the world, in the places he had visited. He could see Harry with him always just living for a future that belonged to them, standing in the blanket of sunlight on that beach forever. He had never been a man to have any sort of admirable dream or goal in his life but now, in this night, he believed in it far more than he should. He could keep this story to himself, kept secret just like himself and the boy, just like his love for Harry.

He was not going to tell Harry how he truly felt. He had decided it and it was an unwavering decision. It was too soon, there were so many things hidden away all around them, shadowed things, any number of hands desperate to snake out and tear them apart. There was reality; the fact that he was a grown man in love with a 16 year old boy; that possibly no one would accept their relationship, that he really did not know what Harry would ultimately want in the future, that maybe he was just something constant in Harry's life, something stable and caring, an endless source of affection that Severus was always ready to show the boy, that perhaps Harry would never be able to return his love.

It was the truth. He had never been the one to be loved and he had no sense of what it was like to really be with someone on the same level of understanding, of trust, of complete unity. He longed to be the man he wanted to be, to find and experience the things that would eventually create this sort of man. A man worthy of love. Because his soul was wretched, he was so very selfish, unwise, unaccountable, greedy, jealous, obsessive, and so many things that Harry was so blind to. And he did nothing to show Harry any of it. He still had confessions, untold truths that he still needed to keep from Harry.

Because he was afraid. He could be honest about it. He didn't want to lose Harry, he couldn't lose Harry. And yet as he lay in bed unable to ease into sleep despite his exhausted self he doubted heavily that Harry would ever say those words to him; that Harry would love him, that Harry would be devoted to the illusions that Severus could make up in his mind, that Harry would ever think about them together, older, happier, in a peaceful calm in the dead of winter walking through the snow, gloved hands linked, never noticing anyone but each other…It was desperate like an unanswered prayer but he kept praying no matter the consequences, no matter that the odds were against them, no matter that it was as if he were chasing death.

Because he had let go of the past. He was in love.

He had never loved this way before.

A love where it didn't matter what he desired. All that ever mattered now was that he cared far greater for Harry's needs than his own.

And what was new to him was that he had probably felt that way long before he knew that he loved Harry. That was what scared him the most. But Harry defined him now and there was nothing he could do to change that. It was cowardly perhaps to keep it from Harry, to keep all of this from Harry, the words that were so threatening to escape, that disappeared before they reached his lips. It was just too much to manage, to organize, to control. So he would live in this small freedom with Harry and if there was ever a moment that it would all change, that it would all come crashing down…maybe he didn't have to be the brave one, perhaps Harry would need to be the one to decide. He had never really been brave in his life but this love was courageous.

It was a brave love.

He would be anything for Harry and he had never felt that way for anyone. He was devoted to Harry and he did not know why it had happened, how things turned out this way but only hours before he couldn't believe how willing his body was to pleasure the boy, to send such a trembling arousal through Harry's body, to see those eyes glazed over with a needy pleasure, to know how effortless it was to make the boy want it, to get his adolescent hormones to override the embarrassment he felt, to make the boy almost lustful.

And he had been lost in just listening to the swirl of sounds of the boy's body. Harry's panting, the gasping, the slight sounds of the boy's clothing, the shaking of potion jars, the tight grip of the wooden shelf, of Harry's nails digging into it, of the slick sounds that Severus could hear his own mouth making as he took the boy's stiff, pulsing member in and out. He had never done this before, he never felt any sort of appeal to men so he did not know why he liked doing this to Harry. Perhaps it was just how easy it was to get Harry to submit to it, perhaps it was just the position of being able to look up at Harry with such an arousing expression, those eyes looking so enticing, beautiful, and that body, shaking to keep himself standing, those hips, that thin waist. And if he listened so very closely he could hear in that instant, the special way that Harry's heart pounded in his chest.

He didn't know why he loved him.

Or maybe there were too many reasons.

But whichever was true in the end, he wouldn't regret it, he could never regret this attachment, how wonderful it was to just be able to share this feeling, to love, to just love no matter if Harry never knew that this love filled the soft touches he gave him, the quick glances across rooms, a careful kiss, a relieved embrace, no matter that it had been love that had been growing from that seed. He would not generalize it; he would devote himself to it, every day no matter what happened in the end. He would not hate this; he would never come to hate the permanent truth that he loved this boy.

It was undying, relentless, and honest. This love was pure, its own. He was hopeless now, he was gone with it, and he prayed that what they held together, what they felt with one another would never falter, would never fade, but only grow stronger, would only change for the better and that nothing would break it. He prayed that it would be stubborn, that it would be true, and that what had grown now was deeply rooted, that just like the boy, it would survive anything.

When Severus was left with nothing else but the spiral of the things his mind kept carrying no matter the anguish it left him with he was finally able to find sleep.

* * *

He was in a place that he undoubtedly missed with its peaceful atmosphere, the blend of sophisticated black and white tones, the light music throughout the place, the hum of chatter of the other guests, the sunlight that poured through the windows. The Fish Bowl was special to him, it had brought him closer to the man he now cared for, it brought him to Snape and he was with the man again now sitting across in their usual booth. Snape was in his expensive muggle attire, the light blue dress shirt which Harry was fond of, the charcoal black overcoat, the composed expression as he talked to Kim the waitress with her small gold pen.

Harry could feel himself smiling; he could see his hands placed lightly on the table making sure to keep his elbows off, he could feel how happy he was, how hungry, and how normal this was to him. But as Kim walked away smiling, winking at him, he realized who the people sitting around him were. Ron and Hermione sat at a center table only feet away talking to one another, Neville, Seamus, Parvarti and Luna sat in a booth across the room from them, Ginny and Dean sat next to one another in the booth in front of them, Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley sat chatting away in the booth behind him, Cho, Katie Bell, Lavender Brown, and Cormac McLaggen sat at the booth at the back, Fred and George and Bill and Fleur were sitting at the table next to Ron and Hermione, Dumbledore was even there sitting alone at a table in the middle.

They were all just talking, enjoying themselves and their different choice of meals. Harry's heart was pounding and he knew he was afraid of them seeing Snape and him here, he was uncomfortable and somewhat ashamed and his body had begun to tremble softly, his vision shaking as he stared at them all in a panic. They would see him, they would know, their secret would be revealed, they would be forced to stay away from each other…

"Harry…" Snape called softly.

And Harry could only think:

_You have to call me Potter, not Harry…They'll know, they'll see…_

Snape's hand took hold of Harry's right gently and it was warm. Harry was terrified.

"Harry, look at me…" Snape said in a careful tone.

All went silent around him except for the soft music. The chatter had stopped instantly. Every head turned and every pair of eyes fell on Harry. His heart was beating like a drum, loudly, frantically and their eyes were on the two of them, here together, holding hands. Their expressions killed him. Hermione looked confused and hurt, Ron looked disgusted, his ginger hair standing out more under the tiny lights in the ceiling, Cho had tears in her eyes and looked pained, everyone looked so shocked, appalled, angry. Harry glanced at Snape quickly but all the man was doing was staring at him as if he were saying: _Well?_

But he couldn't say_ anything_. He shut his eyes tightly but he could still feel their eyes on him and the air felt like it was filled with their disappointment and judgmental ignorance, of his own fear and he felt as if he could make up some excuse, could apologize for it, could plead for their pardons and beg that they wouldn't leave him over this. When he opened his eyes, slowly, everything was blurred for a moment. He was alone, everyone was gone from the restaurant, even Snape and set upon the table was the fish bowl and he stared down at the two tiny fishes, one black, one white, his hands set on either side of it. He just sat there looking at them swimming along together in the water with his calming heart.

Harry woke up slowly, his dream ebbing away like the slow current of a stream and he was quick to realize that it had all just been a dream and he was just in his dorm in Gryffindor Tower waking up to a cold Thursday morning. He did not dwell on the contents of the dream as he sat up and stretched. It was early but the sun was out in the crisp blue sky and Harry could feel the chill in the room and he knew that it was only going to get colder but he didn't mind the cold much. Harry woke up Ron who had been snoring loudly. He showered and dressed in his uniform, putting on his Gryffindor robes and grabbing up his school bag and hurrying down to the common room where Hermione was waiting for him.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione greeted happily. "How are you?"

"I'm very good, thanks," Harry signed and grinned at her.

They waited for Ron and when he finally came down they headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. He could tell that people were whispering about him and he caught their many glances. Being a very curious person himself Harry knew they were wondering just what exactly had happened to him but it was easy to put it past him and sit down at his table. He was very hungry this morning and he ate with a slight jubilance about him. He noticed Ginny and Dean sitting next to each other and they seemed happy so he guessed they were back on good standing which a small part of him was grateful for.

His eyes naturally found Snape sitting at the Staff table and he was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Harry felt the soft blush rise to his cheeks and he looked away quickly. The hazy and intense memories of last night floated up into his mind and he still couldn't really believe what the man had done; his heart had sped up, his hand holding tighter to his fork. His left hand rubbed at his neck unknowingly. The skin was unblemished now but yesterday night there had been quite a few bruises as a result of the attention Snape had given that area. Harry tried not to think about it because surely someone would question his reddening face.

Harry also felt a slight touch of guilt when he thought about last night. He had been the only one to really be pleasured and he hadn't returned that pleasure upon Snape. He was sure that Snape wouldn't ask for it or necessarily pressure Harry into doing something like that but it wasn't that he didn't want to. Honestly he was a bit scared at doing such a thing and clueless as to how it should be done but there was really no reason why he would need such a skill in the past. The more he thought about the more embarrassed and nervous he became. He couldn't help it from bothering him however and regardless of how much he tried to push it out of his head it would fight to take a place back into his thoughts.

When he was done with breakfast he walked with Hermione and Ron out onto the grounds. The blast of cold wind blew past them all, making their Gryffindor scarves and the ends of their robes whip behind them. When Harry reached the greenhouses his nose and cheeks were red from the blustery autumn winds as were everyone's faces. Harry spent most of the class not listening to Professor Sprout's instructions on tending to the vines of their Snargaluff plants but would be quick to nudge Ron in the ribs as the boy was drifting off to sleep here and there.

Harry stood at their table with the gnarled stump trying to persuade the bramble-like vines to come out as Hermione had her wand out and was ready to immobilize them. As Harry clipped away at the vines and Hermione and Ron were on either side of him spraying the plant with a special nutrient he couldn't help but wonder if his two best friends had ever kissed anyone before. He didn't know why he was thinking of it but it just slithered into his thoughts. He had done so much with Snape already; such intimate, sensual things. He was just standing there knowing that Ron had probably never really had a girlfriend before, that Hermione had most likely only been kissed by Victor Krum. He had known how Krum looked at her, how he had fancied her and he had been eager to be with her but he also knew that Hermione's heart was already stretching toward the boy standing right next to him.

And something weird happened in Harry's mind in the next moment when Ron moved over to the other side of the plant, standing next to Hermione now whose eyes glanced at his ginger haired friend and Harry was able to pick up the slight perk of red in Hermione's cheeks and her brown eyes stared back at the unmoving vines, she blinked softly. Harry caught Ron's glimpse that he gave the girl, first looking at her face and then looking down and then Ron looked at him and quickly went back to spraying the plant with the bottle. Harry stared at them, his small clippers still in his right hand, the sounds around him had deafened.

_Just kiss already…Just do _something_ to each other…Don't let me be the only one out of the three of us doing things like that…Why can't you just kiss each other already? _

Harry's fingers slipped and the small plant clippers fell out of his hand, clattering to the stoned ground. Why had he just thought that? What was wrong with him? Harry could feel the heat rising in his face.

"Harry, are you ok?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry nodded quickly.

"Pinched my finger…" Harry signed numbly and he knelt down and picked up the clippers.

When class had finished Harry walked back with everyone to the Great Hall for their short break. As he sat down working on the small chart for Herbology to get it out of the way he realized he was really just caring for his self image. He really liked doing such things with Snape and he knew his fellow students weren't all inexperienced; it was very often that he caught 7th Years and 6th Years snogging in the corridors, even younger students were making their affections toward the ones they fancied known.

But he supposed it was because of the dream that was why he was thinking this way. He was trying to reason with himself that perhaps he was feeling slightly pressured by how far things were going between him and Snape but on the other hand a part of him, maybe the teenage hormonal part of him, wanted to do such an act, the same act, the same service Snape had given him last night. It was slightly weird because he didn't feel anything toward other boys and nothing about any of the girls that had fancied him and asked him out had any impact on his desires.

It was just Snape that made his heart beat faster when their eyes would meet. It was just Snape that put the gentle nervousness in his body when he was near. It was just Snape that he always wanted to keep looking at, to keep being with, that attracted him to the man that despite everything, gave him a gentle peace, a sense of belonging. Harry sat still there as the bell rang out throughout the Great Hall realizing just how much the man did for him without really trying. Harry enjoyed the man's composed self, that calm body regardless of the strong hold Snape would have on him, those black eyes that looked at him in such a way that no one could, no one but Snape.

And he thought as he had been thinking for a while now when they had first kissed that what would happen to them? Because what they were together, that they were _together_, Harry didn't know when it had begun to mean so much to him. He hadn't really thought so much about the future but now those sort of thoughts, sort of daydreams really were intimidating his common sense, were doing their best to reach into his mind and place those fantasized hopes within him and for some reason he really didn't want to let them in; he was too scared to think that he and Snape would walk along that road together, that they could ever have something that belonged to the both of them.

But soon he felt his body stand, his hand grabbing up his school bag as his eyes were on Ron and Hermione and his fellow 6th Year Gryffindors, and he felt the beginnings of a daydream leave him, slipping away from his mind, against his skin almost and the tips of his fingers tingled. He walked to the Defense classroom with everyone, their words sounding mumbled to his ears. He knew he had to keep it secret but a piece of him, some tiny, miniscule bit of him wondered what it would be like if he just told someone. He had questions, he had things he wanted to express to another but couldn't and he knew he wanted to ask Snape so many things but he also knew that it was just better to let it be for now and that maybe, it was a hopeful maybe, Snape would be the one to say the things that he truly longed to hear. It was the simple truth that he longed for such things that made him comprehend just how deep he was in all of it and he knew this was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

* * *

Harry found it strange to sit in D.A.D.A. knowing that he had tried to strangle the man that was now teaching at the front of the class. He felt a slight urge to apologize since he hadn't really faced the man since then. Professor Royle seemed fairly cheerful that day as he gave his lecture on a few defensive spells Harry did not know about even with the books he had read in the Room of Requirement. Harry took notes on the many elemental defensive spells and the proper way to cast them and the class of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were listening in intently although Hermione kept nodding here and there as if to confirm what Royle was explaining to them.

When class had ended Harry took his time with putting his things back into his school bag feeling that this would be the earliest time he would be able to get the apology out of the way even though it wasn't really his fault at what he had done to Professor Royle. And for a reason unknown to him he felt that it would be best that he tried to get to know Royle a little more because for a while now Harry had been too curious about Ms. Gardiner and the new professor. Something had happened to him when he had seen those tears in the woman's eyes and maybe it was just his saving people thing acting up again but it wasn't as if the two's lives were in danger. For all that Ms. Gardiner had done for him he thought that perhaps this could help her in some way or perhaps he was just much too curious for his own good.

"I'll see you in a bit," Harry signed to Ron when the boy had been standing and waiting for Harry.

Ron gave him a look but shrugged and joined Hermione and the group of students that were leaving. Harry felt slightly nervous as he walked over to the tall man who was putting away a messy pile of papers in his desk. Harry tapped his fingers on Royle's desk and the man looked up at him. Royle closed the desk drawer and leaned against it as he eyed Harry. Harry found himself staring into those gray eyes and he wondered if they really did remind him of his own eyes.

"I would guess you wanted to tell me something or just awkwardly stare at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, Potter?" Royle said with his eyebrows slightly raised.

Harry shook his head slightly and signed:

"I just wanted…to apologize…for…you know…with…"

"I don't need an apology, it wasn't like you were aware of it," Royle said.

"Right…but…still," Harry signed slowly. "Just…thank you as well for trying to help me…"

"You have no one to thank but yourself," Royle said in a low tone. "Your will was strong enough even though for a while the situation seemed hopeless…You're a force to be reckoned with Potter."

Harry didn't know how to respond to the man's words.

"So…you know a lot about curses?" Harry signed.

Royle straightened himself and chewed that gum of his for a bit.

"A fair amount, yeah," Royle said. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Harry signed.

"Well…you should get to lunch," Royle said.

Harry's eyes were on the silver ring on the man's middle finger of his right hand. The dark green jewel shimmered.

"You know…Ms. Gardiner, she talked about you…before…" Harry signed hesitantly.

Royle smirked and eyed Harry again and put his hands in his pockets.

"Did she? In a bad way I'm guessing," Royle said. His expression was one of a soft amusement and in that moment as he found himself staring up at the man he saw it there in contrast with the sunlight was let in through the windows of the classroom. He had found the kindness in those darkened gray eyes. It was hidden behind something, that sorrow that Luna had mentioned but Harry could see it and it surprised him how he had found it because he had taken the time to search for it.

"The staring thing is getting a little bit weird, Potter," he heard Royle say suddenly and he was brought back to the moment between them.

"Sorry…I space out sometimes," Harry signed.

"Right…well…" Royle started to mutter.

"It wasn't bad necessarily," Harry signed and he knew he probably shouldn't even have begun this odd conversation with Professor Royle. "Just…I mean…"

"What's it to you, Potter?" Royle said and he put on a small smirk.

"What do you mean?" Harry signed.

"It just looks like this is bothering you a bit more than it should," Royle said softly.

"No…it's just…" Harry signed quickly as his eyes looked away from the man to the windows. He really didn't know what to say to the man.

And Royle laughed lightly. It was just short but it reminded him of the way Ms. Gardiner laughed.

"What?" Harry signed as he looked up at the man.

"God, this has been such a strange week," Royle said. "You really make this place lively, Potter."

Harry gave the man a somewhat confused expression.

"Go to lunch, Potter," Royle said coolly.

Harry waited and then turned to leave feeling slightly foolish.

"Potter," Royle called when Harry was at the door.

Harry turned his head to look back at the man.

"If it does bother you," Royle said calmly. "Put in a good word for me."

Harry didn't know why he had smiled just barely but he gave the man a nod and left the classroom.

The next few hours had gone by dismally and Harry found himself waiting in anticipation for 7 o'clock. 15 minutes till 4 in the afternoon he was walking toward the Quidditch pitch with Ron for practice with his Firebolt in hand. The cold wind stung his face and Harry noticed the gathering gray clouds. The sunshine had not lasted long it seemed and a good chance of rain was due in the near future. Harry stood in the line with his teammates next to Ginny who kept glancing at him. He listened to Katie Bell's words of encouragement as their first game was only weeks away.

They did plenty of drills together and Harry's body shivered against the icy wind that kept coming at them in great gusts. The stands were empty but for Hermione, Luna, and Lavender Brown and a few other Gryffindors all wearing their scarves and gloves. Harry's nose was frozen. Halfway through practice it had begun to rain and Harry was left on his own to catch the Golden Snitch that Katie had released. Harry longed for a hot cup of tea when he finally caught the thing low to the pitch at the same time Ginny had swept by him sending rain and mud spattering because of her speed. Harry wiped his face of it as she called out her apologies.

Throughout the last hour of practice Ginny had kept flying close by him or she had kept finding her way over to him and Harry would catch her glance and she would smile at him and Harry would give her a weak smile in return. In the last few minutes Harry hovered high above the field as he watched Ron flying fairly well around the goal posts as he was stopping Katie Bell's penalty shots, only missing one or two. Harry's Quidditch uniform was drenched as was his hair and his hands stung from the ice-cold winds. He was grateful when Katie blew her whistle and he descended down quickly, landing upon the wet grass.

After a pep talk and a message that they would be practicing again on Saturday Katie told them to hit the showers and Harry walked back with Ron and Ginny to the locker rooms. He took a hot shower and it felt good against his shivering skin and aching muscles. When he was done showering he dressed back into his uniform and hurried back to the castle with Ron and the rest of the team with their hoods up to shield them from the light rain that fell.

Harry found Hermione in the Great Hall that was that filling up with students for dinner. As he sat down his eyes found Snape like always and the man was sitting at the Staff table eating slowly. Harry turned his attention to his own meal of turkey and vegetables and biscuits. He had been quite hungry but there was a feeling of nervousness that was coiling in his stomach. It wasn't really a normal thing to be worrying over Harry realized and yet he couldn't stop it and he could feel his cheeks growing hot as he sat in the Hall full of students. What Snape had done to him the night before, that new feeling had been unforgettable. He felt slightly shamed within his thoughts. It was a bit indecent to know that he wanted to give the man that same pleasure.

He sat there amongst the loud chatter feeling almost overwhelmed. Maybe it was just because of practice that he felt so awake, that his body was awake and ready to feel the man's hands on him. Maybe it was just his teenage hormones that were driving his thoughts toward the determination he was actually feeling that he could do it, he wanted to and it wasn't just because Snape had done it, no, it was just the straightforward sense that he knew, he desired to do such a thing. He shut off his provocative thoughts quickly because his heart had started to pound with that anticipation again.

He was somewhat ashamed because there were obviously other things in his life that he should worry over like his voice returning and maybe he would talk to Snape about it all, maybe he would just let himself talk about the great guilt that was that forever deep ache in his chest but before that, before anything that had to do with him, he just wanted Snape to be first, to think of how the man felt, to worry about him, to care for him like Snape did, to do things that would make the man feel good. As Harry ate at the same pace as Snape without really tasting the meal he thought that all he wanted was to just give Snape some relief from the worry that Harry always managed to put him under.

* * *

Harry was out of breath by the time their lesson ended in the Room of Requirement. Snape had begun the lesson in all seriousness and had stood by Harry's side as the practice dummies had been set up before them. The whole time Snape had been calling out in a sharp orderly voice a variety of defensive spells for Harry to cast. It was a lesson to improve his speed at casting nonverbal spells and Harry knew he wasn't anywhere near having the ability to cast them instantly like Snape himself was.

Snape had made many "encouraging" comments on Harry's performance and explained to Harry where he needed improvement. Harry was now left feeling somewhat agitated and provoked and there was a dull ache in his head that had sprouted there halfway through their tiring lesson. Harry was thankful that it was over and he rubbed his sore right shoulder as his arm muscles were tense and sore from so much wand waving.

"Well done," Snape said softly.

Harry smirked as he buttoned up his Gryffindor cardigan. Snape summoned Harry's robes to him and handed them to him. Harry took them and put them on.

"I do enjoy the expressions you make when you are impatient," Snape said in that velvety voice and Harry tried not to let the heat rise to his cheeks but it did anyway. "I apologize if I seemed in a hurry but I thought it best to be responsible and return to your lessons quickly so you would not fall behind."

"I figured as much…" Harry signed after he had put his wand in his robe's pocket.

"Are you tired?" Snape asked gently as he closed the space between them with one long stride.

Harry found his eyes on those shined dress shoes and they traveled up the man's body even though Snape was wearing those black layers of his overcoat and robes. When his eyes met the dark pools he knew his heart was quivering.

"Not really," Harry signed quickly. He was looking up at Snape and that composed face.

"You seemed distracted during our lesson however," Snape replied evenly.

"I…well…I just…" Harry signed with trembling hands.

"You are so good at being coy, Harry," Snape said in a hushed tone. The man came closer to Harry as those hands placed themselves on Harry's hips. "But your eyes do not hide what they want."

Harry held his breath as he felt his body go still and he closed his eyes, waiting for those lips to meet his own. But his expectant lips were disappointed as Snape came away from him saying lightly:

"Come, let's have some tea."

Harry gripped the sleeves of his cardigan and gave the man a disenchanted glare as his face was reddening with embarrassment.

"So impatient," Snape said and those black eyes were tantalizing.

Harry hurried after the man as Snape was leaving the Room of Requirement. Harry kept up with the man's walk and they made their decent down the many floors of the castle. Harry's heart seemed to be so unsettled the closer they got to the man's office. He hadn't really any sort of idea of how to begin the act he desired to perform on the man and with each step he took his nerve was being stripped away. He tried to calm his apprehension when they entered Snape's quarters and the bright fire was crackling in the already dim lit sitting room.

Harry stood there in entryway and felt Snape's hands take off his Gryffindor robes but his thoughts were finding themselves away from the present time. He knew these private quarters belonged to Snape and only Snape so maybe it was just the fact that he had been here so many times that he would now get a small feeling of homeliness about the place, a feeling of a humble welcome, and an inch of worth that he had always wanted since he could remember.

"Harry, are you sure you're not tired?" Snape's voice collected his wavering attention span and Harry was aware that the man was before him now and his robes had been hung up a long with the man's own.

"Sorry, I'm fine," Harry signed.

"Sit, I will get the tea," Snape said softly. "Do you have any specific preference for tonight?"

"Anything is fine," Harry signed as he walked over to the black couch and Snape had nodded on his way to the kitchen.

Harry sat upon the couch and his eyes fell upon the jumping flames in the hearth. He felt somewhat silly that all he was worrying about now is if he had the daring to do it and how he would do it. He hated that he was scared. He shouldn't be scared; the man had done it, easily and he had done it with that same composure, that refinement that Harry envied, that he wished he could just possess in those intimate moments with Snape instead of being so timid and trembling. He always had a feeling Snape was inwardly mocking his small attempts at showing the man affection. But his thoughts now were giving him no such confidence that he ultimately lacked.

Snape returned with the silver tray of two steaming tea cups of white tea. He set the tray down and sat close to Harry and handed him his cup which Harry held carefully. The tea seemed to ease his nerves as he felt the fire begin to warm his body and the hot liquid reached his stomach. He brought the porcelain cup away from his lips and stared at Snape who was drinking from his own cup.

He didn't know what was washing over him as he watched the man. It was only a few seconds that ticked away but he studied the way the light of the fire touched upon Snape's clothes, he watched those strong hands treat the tea cup with such gentleness that his own body desired to feel, he was lost in the just shine on the man's lips, the slight wave in Snape's hair, the dark locks that he wanted to reach out to, to feel how soft they could be.

He realized his heart was pounding in his chest and the heat from the tea had grown much hotter from the arousal that had been born in his senses but he pushed it down and set his tea cup back on the tray as Snape did as well. Harry didn't want things between them to be rushed; he wanted to talk to Snape, for Snape to want to talk to him.

"How was your day?" Snape asked in almost a whisper.

"It was fine, long and cold…" Harry signed and he smiled softly. His eyes glanced up to meet the man's own and the firelight made his glasses shine. "How was yours?"

"Ordinarily dull," Snape answered.

Harry hesitated and decided the question he wanted to ask wasn't so personal so he signed:

"Do you…like teaching Potions?"

Snape gave Harry a slight smirk.

"As you know I do take some pride in my teaching," Snape said.

"It's frustrating I bet…with so many dunderheads blowing up cauldrons," Harry signed with the small smile still on his face and he wasn't looking at Snape but rather at his uniform shoes.

"Perhaps," Snape said gently. "However I haven't so many frustrations now considering…"

Harry's smile grew slightly as he was holding his hands and watched the small quake in his fingertips.

"Harry…" Snape called delicately.

Harry felt his heart thump and he pressed his lips together as he turned his head to face the man who was sitting up so straight and once again the heat was born at the bottom of his stomach, coiling tenderly there. He couldn't help but remember how those hands had felt all over his body, against his clothed skin, tugging down his pants, the slick sounds Snape's mouth had made…

"I thought about you all day," Snape said and it was what Harry longed to hear and he waited, his breath held, for the man's velvet-like words to continue. "Did my presence happen to grace your mind at all during this long day of yours?"

Harry wanted to answer: "Every minute," but that was far too embarrassing and he looked away quickly from the man.

"You're blushing," Snape whispered.

Harry stayed still as he sat there knowing the man was leaning in and those lips were now before his ear, a strong hand coming to lay over his right thigh, those fingertips just centimeters away from where he wanted them to be.

"Or perhaps…" Snape whispered so softly and Harry really didn't know why that velvety smooth voice gave his very skin such pleasure, "that mind of yours was on other things…that are merely associated with me."

Harry closed his eyes slowly as those lips kissed the beginning of his jaw line. Harry's cheeks were hot as he turned his head to face Snape and even though they had kissed many times, for long moments filled with a gentle passion, the kiss that they shared in the next second sent a spark throughout his whole being. As it deepened, Harry leaning forward, their tongues swirled around one another and he could hear his own shuddered breaths fall against Snape's quiet ones. Snape's hand glided over the fabric of his uniform pants and fell over the growing bulge. Harry could feel the man's hand more because of his uniform trousers as that strong, heated hand rubbed his forming erection up and down, pressing into it, covering his entire groin and moving in that rhythm that made Harry's eyes flutter shut.

"So eager," Snape whispered against Harry's darkening lips and with that soft but deep breath of words he was hard, painfully against the restriction of his trousers. Snape's hand left his erection and Harry opened his eyes as he felt those hands loosen his tie and he shivered as the man slid it from around his neck and it fell to the floor. His cardigan was off in the next second and then those fingertips worked effortlessly to unbutton the line of clear buttons of Harry's uniform shirt to expose his upper body. The sudden lack of clothing and the cold air of the room made his stomach muscles tense and his nipples hard. The man was quick to begin kissing Harry's neck and all along his chest.

Harry hadn't realized when Snape had pushed him down gently to lie upon the couch or how his legs had moved on their own and that his body was now under the man's. Harry felt the strong touch of Snape's hands as they traveled all along his torso making his muscles tighten and quiver. Harry had been staring at the crackling flames in a trance, a mesmerizing, heated trance as his cheeks were on fire but his glasses were removed and placed on the table and a hand was brought through his hair and Harry's eyes found the black pools and the tranquil face that was cast in shadow. Harry found his thoughts drifting through him as he could smell the man's cologne, taking in a deep breath, his fingertips barely aware of the feeling of the couch beneath them.

He wondered how Snape could be so good at this, so good at making him feel so amazingly pleasured, of arousing him in such a way that he lost the ability to think straight. Every touch, every kiss upon his skin gave him more desire, more bliss and he didn't want that to ever change, he always wanted those eyes to look at him the way they were looking at him now; with a profound devotion, of desire, of a powerfully refined edge, of that black that seemed like ink that poured into his very soul, gripping it, holding on, vibrating through him like strong currents rushing past stones, it was enough to make him want to cry because he just felt too much when he was with Snape, it was uncontrollable, reckless, but he just wanted it, needed it. He felt his throat ache once again as he tried to speak, to say anything to this man, to hear his voice reach those ears, to hear the noises he made silently in reaction to such pleasure as Snape's tongue swirled around his left nipple.

Harry felt the brush of the man's hair against his skin, softly and he begged in his mind that Snape would give him some reprieve over the arousal that was so tight in his pants. Snape was kissing him now, fervently, and Harry's hands found their way up to feel the material of Snape's coat, his fingertips falling over the many buttons, over the strong chest, feeling that heartbeat.

"You're beautiful."

Those words made his eyes open, the blue shimmering violently and he hadn't noticed that Snape had stopped kissing him and those lips were against his ear and Snape's hands were already undoing his belt.

"It's not enough to touch you, Harry," those velvety words swept over him like a graceful wind. "You are so alluring…" Harry shut his eyes tightly because these words were conquering him, making his heart hurt, making the deep ache pinch against the feelings that he had for this man. "I would do anything to have all the time in this world to be with you…" And he relinquished his body and will to that voice.

He hazily watched Snape come away from him, sitting on his knees to unbutton that tight black collar and undo every button of his overcoat and strip the garment off his body and the man's chest was defined against the thin white dress shirt underneath. It was arousing him just to watch the man loosen his cuffs and fold up the sleeves. Harry shut his eyes slowly as Snape's hands returned to his trousers and the button was undone, the zipper came down, he felt Snape's heated hand come under his back lifting his body somewhat to pull down his pants and boxers enough to free his hardened member.

Harry could barely breathe as Snape's hand began to stroke him slowly and he was too embarrassed to look. He hadn't really had time to think that the man was seeing him down there the night before but now it wasn't such a sudden thing and Harry's heart shook in his chest, his hands gripping the couch. He was so aroused it was maddening to try to deal with being self-conscious as well.

"Don't be embarrassed, Harry," Snape spoke and Harry's breath came out in a quick shudder. "I want to do this to you."

And without saying anything else Harry felt that tongue glide up his length all the way to the tip and that desire was coming alive within him with just that and he found himself pleading for more. Before he could try to think of anything else his erection was taken whole by the man's mouth and he gasped silently. The slick motion brought such ecstasy throughout his body and that tongue was brushing against the sensitive nerves around the head. Harry found it felt better than before because all he had to focus on was that mouth and not the shaking in his legs when he had been standing. There was such heat there, searing, wet, Snape's breath against his waist, those dark locks brushing against his naked skin.

Harry's eyes opened lightly, the firelight catching in them and he gazed at the ceiling, and the dim burning light in the lantern-like lamp, his lips were parted, soft silent moans escaping him and the pleasure was so wonderful, so driven, so much as the motion was growing faster and Harry could barely notice his legs that spread wider even with the restriction of his pants. His eyes found Snape's that were closed and the man's hands were stroking his inner thighs slowly and then gripping them as Snape went faster up and down Harry's member.

The pressure in his erection grew easily and Harry tried to fight against the drop that was sure to come now, clenching his jaw, biting his lip, shutting his eyes tightly as his head was brought back, his back arching slightly, his hips rising but he had no control and he gave in. His face was heated, flushed and he gasped mutely, moaning as he came harder than he had before, spilling out quickly and deeply in the man's mouth and Snape was sucking all of him, drinking him down and Harry couldn't take the sight of it but he watched anyway.

Snape came away after a moment, his mouth leaving his length and the man was slightly breathless but those eyes were so perfectly serene and Harry could feel exhaustion taking over his senses as he closed his eyes. Snape had taken out his wand, casting the quick cleaning spell over the area making that tingling sensation rise up to Harry's chest. Snape did up Harry's trousers as Harry's breathing was returning to normal.

And Harry had come to that moment where Snape would leave it at this and that would be it but Harry refused to let that happen. This wouldn't be one sided no matter if something different happened tomorrow. He was scared but he wasn't going to let a juvenile fear get in the way of what he wanted and he wanted it now, more so than he had only hours ago. Snape looked so enticing after what he had done; his lips dark, those eyes shining, that shirt so pressed and collar so tight against that neck. He could do it, he had that personal courage, he wasn't going to shy away or let his nerves dwindle down to nothing. It was just him and Snape, it was their time together, their moments and nothing else had to bother it.

Snape was sitting up now and Harry rose slowly and his shaking hands buttoned up his shirt barely, leaving a few top buttons open. Before Snape could offer him anything like he always did, Harry stood up, his body trembling and he looked right in those black eyes that had watched his every move.

"Harry…" Snape said in that soft but deep caressing voice and something was coming over Harry's body, a determined servitude, a need to just give Snape anything and this scared him.

Harry did it slowly so he wouldn't mess it up because of his clumsiness and his body moved forward, his feet leaving the ground one after the other as his knees placed themselves beside the man's thighs, his hands resting on his own thighs as he sat on the man's lap. All the while Snape was just looking at him with that composed expression and Harry's heart was crashing against his chest. The man was still as Harry leaned in slowly, breathing in the warm scent of that cologne, of Snape's skin. His shaking left hand brushed the black locks behind the man's ear and it was soft, softer than he had thought it would be. He pressed his lips lightly where Snape had kissed him before, his breath against Snape's ear. His right hand was upon the man's chest, moving measurably up and down.

"Harry…" Snape spoke again in just a whisper.

Harry shut his eyes tightly and he bit gently on Snape's earlobe and he really didn't know what he was doing, he was just remembering everything that the man had done to him and he prayed he wasn't horrible at it. Harry came away slowly, raising himself so he could look down upon the man but it really wasn't much of a difference. Harry was about to kiss those lips but Snape's hands came to hold his hips to stop him. Harry was discouraged, thinking he had just been making a fool of himself.

"Harry, what do you want to do?" Snape asked gently.

And Harry was embarrassed, his eyes glistening and he couldn't see the man clearly because he didn't have his glasses on. He tried to come up with the words, to just say it outright but he could only manage to sign as his lips trembled to the silent words:

"The same…"

"Harry, you don't have to do something you are not ready for just because I have done it," Snape said softly. "I told you not to feel pressured."

"I'm not…" Harry signed quickly.

"But you're shaking," Snape said and there was a just smile on the man's face and Harry just wanted to kiss those lips.

"I want to," Harry signed and he made sure his eyes were sincere. "I want to make you feel good too…Please…I…"

"Has this been bothering you all day?" Snape said in almost a whisper. "Have you really thought about this?"

Harry pressed his lips together and swallowed down the blush that threatened to appear on his cheeks.

"Harry, I don't think…" Snape began.

"Don't think then…" Harry signed before the man could say any more. "I want it…Don't you want it?"

And Harry waited for Snape's refusal, waited to be denied but all Snape said with those black eyes glancing away quickly was:

"I would be lying if I said no…"

Harry's confidence grew.

"I have no desire to make you feel uncomfortable, Harry…I…" Snape was saying.

"I'm so attracted to you," Harry signed and he didn't know where the words were coming from. "I'm not really good with…words…and I'm clumsy…and I envy you…"

He couldn't say what he wanted to say, that Snape was good looking, that he liked touching him, that his eyes were so brilliant, so richly black but Harry wouldn't be able to look him in those eyes if those words ever escaped him even if it was only by sign. Instead he leaned in slowly and kissed Snape whose own lips were slightly hesitant and Harry tasted himself but he wasn't embarrassed. He came away and his hands found the pearl colored buttons of the man's collar and he fumbled with them and they came undone and he was able to expose that neck in which he began to kiss gently, trying to fall into the same motion Snape always used and he sucked on that skin knowing Snape wouldn't mind.

He came away, looking at Snape as his right hand reached down to the man's groin and Harry felt the growing bulge there. His hand trembled as he rubbed against it and Snape's breath had quickened just barely and those lips were parted. Harry massaged it, feeling it harden, pressing it against his hot palm through the fabric. He couldn't believe he was doing this, he couldn't believe how he liked doing this. He undid the man's dress pants, finding the two buttons and the zipper and he timidly pulled it down. So far he seemed to be doing alright but he knew there was much more he had to do but he was going to do it, he wanted it.

Harry got off the man and Snape was watching him and again Harry caught that vulnerability in those eyes and it gave him assurance. Snape waited, hesitating and Harry got to his knees, settling himself in-between the man's legs and he could tell those black eyes were taking such a scene in just like he had done the night before. Snape moved forward, still sitting up so straight and Harry knew what he would see now when the man pulled down his dress pants somewhat with those silky black boxers. Harry's eyes broadened somewhat at the sight of Snape's erection and his blurred sight could make out its long length. Harry felt his face flush and his eyes averted themselves to stare at the man's exposed moonlit skin.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Snape's voice broke the sudden silence and Harry let out the breath he had been holding.

He was sure regardless that he was afraid, regardless of the simple truth that he wasn't attracted to anyone but Snape who was obviously a man and older and experienced and he had done nothing like this, nothing so sexual, and he had been learning things he had never known before from Snape and whether he was old enough he didn't care, he didn't care for rules or judgments, he could make his own decisions, he could care about Snape, he could want to be with him no matter what people would say or look like if they knew what they were doing with one another. Because this was his heart, his soul, his body and he had control over this despite the hundreds of other things he did not.

This act was most likely a natural thing, not a big deal but it was a first and for the first time he thought about the future, if he would grow older, if he would marry, and he couldn't see himself with a wife at his side, he couldn't see himself like that, all he could imagine was Snape with him somehow in some way and he begged for it to never change and he fought against the burning in his eyes and the insecurities and the embarrassment and the raw nakedness of it and he knew Snape's heart was beating just as fast as his, he knew he wanted to belong to him, to that heart.

With a shaky breath his right hand took hold of Snape's length feeling the thickness of it, the heat and the soft pulse and his lips hovered over the tip and he closed his eyes as his tongue licked at the head, tasting Snape, the smell of the man's body soap reaching his nose and the heated skin. He heard the quick breath that Snape had let out and he could see Snape's hands that were set on the couch.

Harry swirled his tongue around it, licking quickly, wetting the area and Snape's member twitched in his hold and he tried not to flinch. He took in a breath before opening his mouth and letting the man's erection slip inside, past his tongue, carefully and he knew he wouldn't be able to take in all of it and it was so hot, almost burning in his mouth. Gently he began to move up and down, trying to figure out how to suck upon it like Snape had done and he could hear the slick noises he was making and Snape's barely audible quickened breathing.

Harry learned as he went a long to breathe through his nose and it helped against the feeling in the back of his throat and he went faster, using his hand as well to match his movements. Snape's breaths were more erratic as the minutes past and Harry opened his eyes slowly. The blurred picture before him was something he wished he could see clearly. Snape's composure was slipping as his eyes were glazed over with that pleasure, blinking and then staying closed and there was a born color in the man's face, his lips parted, his hands pressing into the couch.

And Harry took the man's member deeper, ignoring the tears that it brought to his eyes and the fire in his cheeks, he sped up the motion, tasting that skin, using his tongue like Snape had done although clumsily and even though his jaw was hurting and he was dizzy from the lack of air he kept going and he was determined to bring out any kind of noise from Snape.

"Harry…" Snape hissed out softly and Harry wanted to hear more, he wanted to make the man slip, that refinement stumble.

It was a noise that came from somewhere deep in the man's throat, it wasn't really a moan just a noise but Harry saw the man lean back against the couch. Harry kept going, his face flushed, his jaw burning, eyes shut tight and Snape made the noise again and Harry, through the tears could see Snape close his eyes slowly, could see the pleasure in them, could see the man letting himself go and it was all because of what Harry was doing to him.

"Harry…" Snape let out again and Harry shut his eyes and the man had moved forward and Harry shivered when he felt a strong hand brush through his hair. "Look at me…"

Harry opened his eyes to stare up at those black pools, the man's eyes were half open, shining against the shadowed face and Harry was lost in that deep dark and he knew it was messy and clumsy of what he was doing but he ignored the embarrassment and dizziness and it was starting to make him feel good to just do this, to have Snape in his mouth, thick and full and he didn't know when he had begun to think such proactive words and he wondered if anyone else thought like him, of secret, private things such as this.

"Harry…I…"

And Harry knew it was a warning that Snape was going to finish and he could even feel the pressure building up in the man's erection and Harry's heart was thumping so loudly in his ears. Snape's hand that had been in his hair came away and the man's hands held onto the couch and there was something still so dominant about the man, maybe it was his height or that powerful trembling in his body or the shadows that cast over the man's form but Harry didn't really know as Snape let out a short gasp. The hot substance spilled into the back of Harry's throat and he shut his eyes against the salty, different taste and he fought against the need to choke and swallowed, forcing his throat to work and it was so much and he couldn't breathe. And it was over and he felt Snape's hand against his face as his member slipped out of Harry's mouth, his jaw aching, his face aflame and the back of Harry's hand wiped at his lips and chin, he was out of breath and he coughed. He heard the man do up his slacks and then those warm hands were holding his face. Harry's lips were buzzing, his mouth felt numb.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked gently.

Harry nodded shortly.

Snape had helped him sit down upon the couch and put on his glasses and the next moment Harry was being handed a glass of chilled juice. Harry drank as he was thirsty. He looked to Snape who was staring at him. There were no words that really needed to be said and Harry found himself feeling rather sleepy, his body just seemed to be floating and it was warm.

Their time was up and Snape helped him dress as he buttoned up his uniform shirt and knotted his Gryffindor tie and as Harry tucked in his shirt and put his cardigan back on Snape buttoned his collar and put on his black coat with so many buttons. They put on their robes and like always just before Snape's office door Snape held Harry against him and kissed him deeply with such affection. Snape patted Harry's hair down and they left, walking through the icy dungeon air. Harry's heart was so filled with all the emotions he had felt that night.

* * *

He found himself staring out the windows of the Charms classroom while Professor Flitwick lectured on. He held his quill limply in his hand and his thoughts were flying lazily with the puffs of clouds in the sky outside. Ron was asleep next to him and Lavender Brown kept glancing back at the ginger haired boy. Harry's mind was inevitably on Snape, remembering the man's face from the night before; he just couldn't get it out of his head.

When class had let out Harry had decided it best to try to visit Hagrid again. Ron had agreed to come with him and Hermione had left to Ancient Runes. He had seen Hagrid here and there but the half-giant wasn't always at meals at the Staff table and he hadn't run into Hagrid at all in the castle. They had gone up to the common room to their dorm to change out of their uniforms. Harry wore a fitting light blue t-shirt with gray stripes and dark jeans, his white and gray trainers and a warm dark gray jumper. Ron wore a light green jumper over a white shirt and jeans with brown trainers.

They hurried down the floors of the castle and made their way out of the large heavy front doors. He and Ron hurried along the sloping, grassy hills down to the man's hut and Harry could see the smoke rising in the sky that meant Hagrid had a fire going inside. Harry's nose was already cold from the strong winds.

Harry skidded to a halt before the wooden door, hopped up the few steps and knocked. The door swung open and there stood the Hogwarts Gamekeeper looking as if he might not have been sleeping much.

"Hello Hagrid," Ron greeted and Harry gave the man a grin and a wave.

"Hello you two, it's good ter see yah," Hagrid said. "Come in, I got some tea ready."

Harry and Ron entered the warm hut and walked past a lounging Fang. They sat in the large wooden chairs with their legs dangling as Hagrid moved about the kitchen area serving them large cups of the light brown liquid. When they had been served Hagrid sat across from them and Harry had brought along his notepad and pen to converse with the man.

"So…how are you?" Ron asked as Harry drank some of the tea that would have been better with milk or sugar, lots of milk and sugar.

"I've been alright…lookin' after Buckbeak and all…" Hagrid muttered.

Harry wondered what was wrong with the man and he had noticed now that Hagrid's eyes were a bit red and puffy.

"Hagrid…what's the matter?" Ron asked before Harry could write the message down.

It looked as if Hagrid had been struggling to keep his face from scrunching up with a pained sorrow and Harry's eyes grew worried until Hagrid practically shouted as large tears built up in his eyes:

"It's Aragog! He's been _ill!_"

Ron had paled slightly at the mention of the giant spider that lived in the Forbidden Forest amongst its many arachnid children. Harry felt bad at the news but honestly he had expected something much worse. Hagrid sniffed loudly and continued:

"He…he got sick over the summer and I've been tryin' ter make him better but it doesn't look good…"

Harry glanced at Ron and nudged him in his side trying to coax the boy to say something.

"It's alright, Hagrid…" Ron started with an uneasy expression. "He's…lived a long…fulfilled life…"

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron's poor tact and Harry watched the man dig into one of his many coat pockets and pull out a polka dotted handkerchief and blow his nose. Harry got up from his seat and went over the man and stood by him and awkwardly patted his back and it was then that he was pulled into a bone crushing hug by the man.

"I guess he won't be sufferin' much longer…" Hagrid sobbed and Harry couldn't breathe but the man let him go and Harry fell to the floor. He stood quickly, brushing the dust off. Ron sipped at the tea that was growing cold and gave Harry a shrug.

Harry let out a sigh and waited as the man collected himself. Harry really didn't have any good feelings when he thought of the giant spider, actually the memories he had of the Acromantula were quite horrifying. After a few minutes Hagrid hugged them both and thanked them for visiting and Harry wrote Hagrid an encouraging message and Hagrid had told Harry tearfully that he hoped his voice would return. It was almost lunch time when they headed back into the castle and when Harry walked into the Great Hall he had not expected to see Ms. Gardiner sitting at the Gryffindor table amongst the group of his friends.

She wore light red thin robes and black heels and her hair was let down. She was smiling and signing to them all and there was laughter from that part of the table and Cho and Luna were sitting in the group as well. Harry and Ron hurried over to the table and Ms. Gardiner had turned to them and gave them a kind smile.

"Harry, there you are. How are you?" she said.

"Fine, thank you," Harry signed with a smile.

"You're wondering why I'm here, well, you weren't able to have your session last Wednesday and its important we don't skip them so I know Fridays aren't busy for you so I decided it would be the best time for it," Ms. Gardiner explained as Harry sat down next to her and Ron next to him. "I was just teaching everyone some helpful tips."

Harry looked around at everyone's grinning faces and his smile grew. He hadn't really thought about having a session that week since all that happened with him being cursed but it was good that she was here to help Harry get back on track with his recovery. So they had eaten lunch when it was served and chatted about simple things. Harry's eyes had glanced up at the Staff table to see Snape's slightly annoyed expression and Professor Royle kept his eyes on Ms. Gardiner.

When they were finished Ms. Gardiner put on the black coat she had brought with her and they said their goodbyes getting signed replies from everyone and Harry was laughing as they exited the castle. Harry didn't mind the cold wind as he kept his hands in his jumper's pockets that had a soft fuzz in them.

"So how have you been Harry? Have you been feeling well?" Ms. Gardiner asked.

"I've been ok," Harry signed, his hands leaving the warm pockets.

"And how have you been dealing with what happened?" she asked softly as they strode across the grounds toward the beech tree.

"I don't know really, I know it happened…I know what I did to everyone…" Harry signed. "But it's not really bothering me…like people would have guessed it would…if that makes sense."

"It does," Ms. Gardiner said gently. "You've been through a lot Harry…you've seen a lot…You're just better at handling it because of that…I'm just glad you're alright…"

"I'm sorry if I worried you," Harry signed.

"It's alright, Harry, just so long as you don't go anywhere by yourself," Ms. Gardiner said. "Is Professor Snape doing a good job looking after you?"

Harry felt the small tinge of heat reach his cheeks in spite of the cold wind.

"Yeah…he is…" Harry signed.

They reached the beech tree and Harry sat down with Ms. Gardiner under the towering limbs. The wind blew through the changing leaves and Harry tried not to be reminded of Snape as a teenager sitting under this very same tree the day Harry's father had bullied him. He held his knees to his chest, holding the sleeves of his jumper as he watched the rippling waters of the Black Lake as the gust of winds passed by.

"Harry, I would like to try a new exercise with you today," Ms. Gardiner's light voice called back his attention and Harry waited for her to continue.

"Many trauma patients find this exercise difficult; it's sort of a confrontation really. This exercise is often used when a patient is trying to recover memories that have been forgotten or suppressed by one's subconscious," Ms. Gardiner explained. "I know this doesn't really concern your case however it does help those who have lost someone…"

"What is the exercise exactly?" Harry signed.

"It's best if I just walk you through it," she said and Harry was confused but he waited for whatever was next.

"Let's sit facing each other," Ms. Gardiner said as she moved to her left and sat with her legs underneath her and Harry moved to his right to face her and sat cross-legged. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and keep them closed."

Harry closed his eyes and it felt as if they might just meditate together. All he could hear was the faint voices of students who were on the grounds and the wind rushing past and the rustle of leaves and the lake's waters. He felt her hands take his gently as their arms rested on their knees. Harry waited as his breathing was calm, his nose and cheeks red from the cold.

"Harry…I want you to try to picture your godfather…" she said in almost a whisper but Harry caught the words and he felt his heart give a sudden jolt but he knew he needed to try, he needed to be stronger than the grief, he needed to try to face it. "Picture him in a place familiar to both of you."

Harry forced his mind to work and it took some time for the image to appear, the colors of the dark old house that was Number 12 Grimmauld Place faded in and he found himself standing where he and Sirius had their final real conversation with one another and the man was there with him, blurred first as Harry felt his body tremble and it was getting harder to breathe.

"You're there with him and it's clear and the memory feels real," Ms. Gardiner's voice floated past his ears and in the memory that seemed to be paused there in his mind, still and quiet. Sirius was here with him, standing right before him and it was such a challenge to not just make the man disappear.

"You can see him Harry, you can look at him," Ms. Gardiner continued. "It's just the two of you…"

In his mind he couldn't make himself lift his eyes to see Sirius's face. He knew his hands were holding on to Ms. Gardiner's, holding tighter as the deep ache in his chest was pinching there so hard, it was painful.

"You need to look at him, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said softly.

Harry felt himself shake his head slowly, barely on its own and in his mind he was staring past the man's right shoulder at the wall of the Black Family Tree. He clenched his jaw. He didn't know what this was, what kind of exercise this was and how it would help but he knew it was definitely difficult to do.

"Don't think about the guilt, don't think about anything but looking at him Harry," she said and her voice seemed to carry on through the winds and the cold seemed to reach into the room Harry was picturing and he felt his eyes force themselves, struggling against the unknown force, to see Sirius's face and he was trembling badly, his heart racing, his breath held tensely. He knew he was different now but Sirius wasn't, he was still right there, his life had ended, his time was over but Harry was still changing, day by day, leaving this very memory behind and it brought such sorrow to him to know he would never be with Sirius like this ever again.

"Harry…try to talk to him. What do you want to say to him? Use your voice in your head, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said. "What do you want to say to your godfather?"

Harry felt petrified and he couldn't even begin to think of anything he wanted to say to Sirius, he couldn't look at those eyes anymore and somewhere far off in his thoughts he heard a loud bark and it was like a crack and he opened his eyes quickly, a gasp leaving him and his hands came away from the woman's own. His body was shaking terribly and his hands were quivering and his heart was pounding and his eyes were wet.

"Harry, it's alright," Ms. Gardiner said. "It's new to you; I told you it would be difficult, you're fine, ok? You did well, Harry."

Harry's face was numb but he began to nod and he tried to understand what had just happened, tried to understand why she wanted him to speak to the dead but he could not think of the words he would say to his godfather.

"That's all for today, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said gently.

Harry's heart was calming and he found the energy to stand and he helped her to her feet without really paying attention to the act.

"Harry, we'll try again next time," she said and she gave him a smile.

Harry let out a breath as they began to walk back to the castle, his hands once again in his warm pockets of his jumper. He tried not to think about the exercise, he tried not to think about what he had felt in those moments but he couldn't help but feel like he hadn't tried hard enough.

* * *

His mood got better as the hours past and he had played chess with Ron in the common room trying to help the boy ignore that they had seen Ginny and Dean kissing in a deserted corridor. Before they left for dinner Hermione had returned from the library and they made their way together toward the Great Hall. It was growing darker earlier every day and Harry noticed the gloomy looking clouds in the fading light of the sky.

He ate slowly once again, not taking much interest in his stew and nibbling on the buttery rolls. He waited impatiently until it was 5 minutes till 7 when he got up from the table and left the Hall. Snape met him outside the doors and they made their way to the Room of Requirement. Harry's lesson mirrored the one he had the night before and once again his arm was left to feel sore but he was happy that Snape said it was a good improvement.

They headed down to the dungeons and Harry noticed the sprinkle of rain through the castle's windows. When they reached Snape's personal quarters the man served them tea and after moments Harry found himself laying upon the man's lap on his back with his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the fire and his jumper, of the soft heat on his cheeks as Snape was brushing his fingers through his hair.

"You had a session today, correct?" Snape said gently.

Harry nodded and he wished he could just sleep right here with Snape; it was so comfortable.

"How was it?" Snape's voice was almost a whisper and there was the still silence around the room and the only light was in the sitting room.

"I had a new exercise…" Harry signed and he really had no desire to talk about it; it had shocked him at the reaction he had gotten from what Ms. Gardiner had him do or try to do.

"What was it?" Snape asked.

"I don't know…" Harry signed with his eyes still closed. "I guess…she's just trying to make it easier for me to remember my godfather without feeling…guilty…I don't know…"

Snape left it at that and Harry was grateful for it and his breathing was so relaxed until Snape had leaned down to kiss his lips and those hands were touching him, unzipping his jumper to reveal the tight shirt that had ridden up past his stomach. Harry opened his eyes slowly to stare at Snape whose eyes were glancing over Harry's body, fingertips dancing over his exposed thin waist and Harry felt the tickle all the way to his ears. Harry closed his eyes once more, letting his body enjoy the warming pleasure as Snape's left hand was down his pants, already stroking his growing member.

In the next moment he felt himself fall against the couch, hearing the soft jingle of his jumper's zipper and Snape was already on top of him, his overcoat gone from his body and slung over the couch. Through Harry's half awaken state he felt Snape kissing his neck, sucking softly as a hand was pushing up his shirt, gripping his thigh, his hip hard and when he opened his eyes Snape's body was against him, making their erections rub against each other through his jeans and the man's dress pants. Snape was pulling at his jumper as those lips were kissing him and it felt so good, a floating euphoric pleasured trance like being stuck in a dream and reality in one as they spilled into each other.

Snape was whispering things in his ear, words that only aroused him further and his eyes caught the white of the man's dress shirt, the gray of his own jumper, his hands that were limp at his sides and he wanted that hand around his hard member as their breathing was becoming labored. He had expected them to both feel that wonderful ecstasy together, had expected Snape to undress him and for that white dress shirt to come off and their chests would be naked together once again but he had never expected what did happen and he wished he had only fallen asleep on the man's lap, had only dreamed it…

The man had been kissing him until Snape's body had suddenly tensed, startling Harry out of his dreamlike stupor. Before Harry could do anything Snape came away from him as quick as ever, getting to his feet, leaving Harry's body to miss the weight it had been under, the warmth and desire it had been feeling and Harry sat up quickly, waking up fully and he watched the man tuck in his shirt with such speed, buttoning it and Harry's eyes wavered over the man's groin where there was no trace of arousal there. Harry knew what was happening and he couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe that something like this would happen while they had been pleasuring one another. Snape had been called.

Harry's heart missed a beat as the man took out his wand and those robes and the Death Eater mask appeared out of thin air and those black eyes avoided his stare. Both anger and worry crashed down on his body as he watched Snape just stand there and like the time before it had only been a few seconds.

"Wait…" Harry signed, his lips moving numbly.

But Snape didn't wait, he took out something from his pocket and without saying anything, without even looking at Harry, he was gone from the room and Harry was left to stare at the bookshelf on the wall with his heart thudding in his chest, his jumper slipping off his shoulders, his lips shining, his eyes tearful and he had no idea of what to do. He was angry but he knew he shouldn't be. He was angry that Snape had just left him without saying anything; had just gone like that and he was worried because he didn't know what Snape was doing now and he was scared for the man.

Harry lay down on his back slowly, his body too numb to stand and Snape's overcoat had fallen from the couch onto him and Harry could smell the man's scent, wood fire mixed with that cologne and his body soap. Harry turned onto his side, shutting his eyes tightly and holding onto the long coat, burying his face into it and it was almost like Snape was still here if he tried hard enough to believe it and he knew he had promised to never look into Voldemort's mind and he knew Snape would be furious if he broke his word.

Harry was surprised that he was still hard in spite of Snape being called and he found his right hand slipping down, his breath coming out in a shudder against the pain in his chest. His hand went down his pants, over his boxers and he rubbed at his stiff member. The tears fell from his eyes and he brought his hand away quickly, slamming it down on the couch in frustration and anger and perhaps hatred. He hated Snape's position, he hated worrying so much over it, he hated knowing that Snape was risking his life by being a spy and lay there for many moments holding the man's coat and blinking away tears, his arousal gone.

He grew tired of waiting and he sat up, taking his jumper off and letting it fall on the couch over the man's overcoat. He wandered around the room slowly, looking over the many books, walking from corner to corner, feeling groggy and angry and doing his best to keep down the worry that was boiling in his chest. He found the wooden cabinet with its glass covering and Harry didn't care that he opened it without asking. He stared at what was inside, at the many glass bottles of what Harry guessed to be alcohol and wine and there were different types of glasses.

He didn't know why he reached for a bottle of golden amber liquid that was almost empty. He was feeling reckless and annoyed; his mood had been so good and so had Snape's and then it had all been ruined and his session today had been nothing short of awful. Harry grabbed up a glass. He had never really tried a drink before, only Butterbeer, and he wondered if Snape drank a lot. Harry set the glass down on the high black wooden table and found it difficult to open the glass bottle. It opened with a pop and Harry smelt the drink.

He had seen the label before but had never tasted Scotch whisky. With a shaking hand he poured himself just a little and he set the bottle down. He was hesitant but he brought the glass to his lips and took a quick swig and almost immediately the stuff burned the back of his throat and he was left coughing and sputtering, spilling the drink back into the glass and grimacing at the taste and it filled his nose making his eyes burn. Harry put the glass back on the table and wiped his lips. He wondered how Snape could drink that stuff.

Harry waited in the silence of the man's personal quarters. He wasn't going to leave; he had known that the moment Snape had vanished. He would wait for Snape to come back no matter how long it took. He glanced at the clock on the mantel and it was only 8:30pm. He sighed softly and wandered into Snape's kitchen which lit up when he entered it. He found a few bottles of Butterbeer in the fridge and took one; he needed to get the taste out of his mouth. He found himself walking past the dining room and he felt anxious and very much alone in the quiet hallway.

He entered the man's personal Potions lab slowly, looking around the dim lit room before walking over to the piano and sitting down before it. He set his open Butterbeer bottle beside him and his trembling fingers moved slowly over the keys, hearing the echo of their notes and he couldn't even begin to remember the small pieces that Snape had tried to teach him. Harry sighed once again and rubbed at his face. He was tired and shaken and his stomach was upset from all the worrying. He tried not to think about what might be happening to the man, he tried to settle his jittery heart but it was useless and Harry left the room, slamming the door behind him.

He stood there in the dark hallway and turned to see the very last door at the end. He knew it had to be Snape's bedroom. Harry walked gradually toward the dark wooden door, his eyes on the glint of the metal door handle. His right hand fell over the handle and he pushed down and the door opened silently before him.

It was a large room with the same stoned walls and floor. Upon the ceiling there was another lantern-like metal lamp and the fire inside was small, giving the room a soft glow. There was a large black wooden wardrobe set against the left wall and another door. There was a door to Harry's left. There was a large square black rug with two wingback black chairs and a round wood coffee table by the wall with the entry door. There was a chest of drawers against the right wall and another tall bookshelf.

In the very center of the room against the wall before Harry was Snape's bed. It was a rather large fine looking four poster bed with a polished black wooden frame. The charcoal black curtains were open and tied to the posts. Harry walked with unsure steps toward the big bed. There were a few pillows with black and dark navy blue silk pillow cases and the linen was of that feathery soft same colored silk as well. Folded at the end of the bed was a heavy looking black wool comforter. There was a bedside table with an oil lamp and a thick book beside it. Harry came around to the bed's right side and placed his hands over the shiny silk. The bed looked comfortable and it felt so soft.

This was where the man slept, that thought was obvious to Harry and yet he kept saying it in his head. Harry hesitated as he stared at the fine bed and then toed off his trainers and climbed on top of it. He lay down on his side and it was as if he was sleeping on a cloud and the pillows were soft. Harry wondered if the man slept in the middle or if he had a preferred side. It was a bed big enough for probably three of the man. Harry rolled over onto the left side of the bed and the couple of pillows on this side smelt of the man's shampoo. So Snape favored the left side of the bed. Harry didn't know why he had smiled gently at this discovery. He knew he probably shouldn't have entered the man's bedroom at all let alone lay in his bed.

But Harry really couldn't understand what he was feeling because the anger and fear and worry were mixing in with a loneliness he had never really known before. He had been terribly lonely for most of his life with having no friends and never truly being cared for and he knew what it was like to miss friends, to miss family but it was different with Snape. Because he couldn't bear not ever seeing the man again. He realized this as he was gazing at the bedside table with the thick book and gray cover, the thin marker ribbon somewhere in the middle. Harry wanted to be with Snape more than anything and he accepted this, he understood it, he wanted to be in the man's life, an important part of the man's life, the most important part.

If it was wishful thinking he didn't want to believe that it was. He wanted it to be possible, to be able to sleep next to the man, to be special to Snape and not just become something the man would regret. Harry rolled over again onto his right side and curled up, enjoying the comfort of the bed, the warmth his own body was creating upon it. He was afraid for the man, he had always been afraid for Snape because he was a servant to Lord Voldemort and he found himself caring more and more about the man's well being and he didn't like the expression on Snape's face when he had been called; it looked pained, an old pain that Snape was all too familiar with.

He wanted to free Severus Snape from that demon, from this wicked servitude. He didn't know how he would do it but he was determined to help the man in some way. Snape had saved his life many times before, had saved his sanity now, and in this moment when only months ago he probably wouldn't have thought twice about it, probably wouldn't have the slightest drop of worry, but in this moment he prayed for all that he was worth that Snape was alright, that those black eyes would remain searching for his, that he would have the courage to always be waiting for the man's safe return.

* * *

It had surprised him when his forearm had started to burn. It was as if he had been ripped away from Harry and the idyllic pleasure his body had been under when he had been called and all desire and aroused emotions had been stripped away from him. He had used his portkey to leave the school like before and had Apparated to wherever he was being called to. He wore his Death Eater robes and the mask, easily letting all thought go in his mind, his expression blank and properly composed behind it. He knew how crucial it was to not think of how he had left the boy alone, had left without saying anything but he had been worried that if he looked into those bright eyes he wouldn't leave in time.

And now he stood in the very same spot the last meeting had been; upon the grassy hilltops cast in the darkness of night, the mountains looking black against the sky. Severus was alone however in this meeting. The Dark Lord was standing only feet from him and as routine Severus came before the cloaked man and bowed deeply at his master's feet.

"Stand, Severus," the Dark Lord said lowly.

Severus stood gracefully, meeting the Dark Lord's eyes, that steady gaze that burrowed into his own eyes through the mask.

"I have called you tonight, Severus because I am need of your expert skills," the Dark Lord slithered out his words in that breathy voice. "I have a task for you that shouldn't prove difficult for a man of your…occupation."

Severus continued to look forward, staying silent and poised; it was easy since he had mastered it so well.

The Dark Lord's skeletal white hand slipped into his cloak's pocket and slowly pulled out a piece of parchment. Severus's eyes did not move but remained focused and a rushed wind passed through the hilltops, picking up their cloaks that brushed against the high grass.

"This is a list of ingredients that I require you to collect for me, Severus," the Dark Lord spoke in that low light tone, that slight hissing of the man's breath that Severus knew he despised. The parchment paper was held out to him, moving in the wind. Severus's left hand reached out automatically and took it from the man's hand. He brought it down at his side, not daring to look at it.

"You will gather what is on the list and deliver the ingredients to me. You have forty eight hours and then I will call for your return. You will speak nothing of this to Dumbledore. If he questions your absence I am sure you can come up with a good excuse. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said with a dull, emotionless tone.

"Has Harry Potter found his voice?" the Dark Lord asked with some amusement to those words.

"No, my Lord," Severus answered.

The Dark Lord put on a wicked smile; those light eyes glinting. It had begun to rain and Severus stood still. He thought of nothing, his mind blank, only seeing what was in front of him.

"He's a worthless child, isn't he, Severus?" he said. The Dark Lord had his eyes on the shadowy sky; his head lifted just slightly, the raindrops catching on his pale face.

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said almost mechanically. "Pathetic…" The way he sounded, if he had been thinking in this moment, was strange to him, the nature of his voice, he hadn't heard it used that way in a while now. He would never speak this way to Harry.

The Dark Lord laughed once, a deep, barely audible noise in the man's throat. The air was freezing to Severus's body but he didn't notice; he didn't feel anything as he stood there.

"Do not fail me, Severus…" the Dark Lord spoke tightly with his eyes facing Severus once more. "Now go."

"Yes, my Lord." And he vanished with a loud crack.

When he had used the portkey to come back to his office he had rid himself of the Death Eater attire and looked at the list he had been given and his mind was quickly calculating the ingredients. He had no sort of idea of why these ingredients were needed but they were listed very precisely and Severus understood one thing at least; that he _would_ be absent in the next 48 hours because he would need to leave the school to obtain most of these rare ingredients that he himself did not own enough of or any of that matter.

He walked numbly to the Headmaster's office, knowing the man would be awake and knowing it was of the utmost importance to explain his new task the Dark Lord had given him to Dumbledore. He entered the man's office and found the Headmaster sitting at his desk with cup of tea before him, his hands folded under his chin.

"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"I was summoned," Severus spoke quickly; ignoring the man's greeting. He stood before the desk and held out the parchment to the old wizard who gazed at it and took it from him gently. "It was the same location as before. I am to gather these ingredients in forty eight hours time, no less, and present them to the Dark Lord. I have read over them. I do not know what sort of potion these ingredients can concoct. I have never seen these specific ingredients utilized at one time together and I am definitely not aware of how they are brewed."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment as he read over the ingredients.

"Well Severus…your guess is as good as mine…" the man said in a faint whisper; Dumbledore looked worn.

"I believe this has to have something to do with the information that Fortescue knew and that he was tortured for," Severus said grimly. "The Dark Lord did not inform me if I would be required to brew whatever potion these ingredients are for and as you know I wouldn't dare to question him."

"I understand," Dumbledore said softly. "You have no choice but to obey, Severus. I trust you know where to go?"

"I do…Some of them will be a challenge to acquire but I have had my fair share of ingredient explorations in the past," Severus said and Dumbledore handed him back the list.

"I can do nothing to sabotage this, Headmaster…" Severus said and he knew the man was already aware of it but he needed to say it to confirm it to himself.

"Was that all he asked for?" Dumbledore said as those old blue eyes gazed into his own.

"No, he questioned if Harry could speak again," Severus answered.

He heard the man sigh lightly and Severus knew there was nothing they could do but make a copy of the list and do research on the possible potions or other concoctions the ingredients could create and he would need to study them thoroughly seeing if it really was just one potion that these ingredients could make.

"It's just a matter of time, Severus…You can do your best to gather information but if nothing is presented to us…we just have to be ready," Dumbledore said quietly.

"And what you plan to do with the boy…will _that_ make him _ready?_" Severus said and couldn't help it that it sounded forced and slightly cruel.

"I trust that it will," Dumbledore said gently.

"Whenever you do decide to tell me what it is that you are planning against the Dark Lord…be sure to inform me of it before you carry it out," Severus said slowly and tensely. "So I am not left to just deal with the mess of its aftermath."

Something flashed in the old wizard's tired eyes and Severus's mouth was dry. He let out a breath and waited a moment but the Headmaster did not say anything more.

"This stays between you and I until it is needed that others should know," Severus said quickly. "I will be going now. I bid you a good night."

"Good night, Severus…" Dumbledore said softly after a short hesitation.

Severus turned swiftly and hurried out of the man's office. He knew his heart was racing and he knew it wasn't like him to be bothered much by certain jobs the Dark Lord had asked of him but the week had been a long one, a tortured one and so much had happened and Severus was on edge despite the good night he had with the boy the day before. He just couldn't stop thinking of Harry and what would happen to him and of what the Dark Lord was planning and he just wanted to know but there was no way to know unless he wanted to die trying to find out.

Severus cleared his mind as he pocketed the list, gathering himself and focusing on the task at hand. He knew he would need to get ready to leave the castle. He entered his personal chambers prepared to deal with the loneliness he would feel in the next two days he would spend without the boy and hating the way he had left Harry like he had done. However when he stepped inside he noticed immediately the few things that were out of place. The bottle of Scotch whisky was out on the table a long with a short glass of the amber liquid. Severus stood there staring at it not believing what most definitely happened with it.

He walked over to the couch and found Harry's jumper atop his overcoat. Severus smirked and he strode over to the long hallway noticing his bedroom door was left ajar. He took slow strides to the door, every worry leaving his thoughts. It was silent in his private quarters and dark. He opened the door gently and walked in, closing it noiselessly behind him. His black eyes took in the sight before him; the sight of Harry asleep on his bed.

The boy was on his right side, curled up, sleeping soundlessly, his face looking so relaxed. The shirt that Severus had admired the way it hugged the boy's body had ridden up, exposing Harry's thin waist, those jeans noticeably low and slipping against his hips. If he could have this to return to every time he was summoned by the Dark Lord it would definitely help his sanity. Severus moved slowly, silently, easily taking off his dress shoes and he didn't care about anything but Harry in this moment, he didn't care for the job he had to do, all he cared about was getting as close as possible to that body. He had been somewhat surprised at Harry as the boy had allowed himself to enter Severus's bedroom, to sleep on his bed. Harry usually wasn't so forward.

He was at the end of the bed as he slowly climbed upon it, on his hands and knees. In this still, frail glowing moment as his eyes were gleaming from the soft light in the room Severus was pretending again. He imagined such a room to be their room, that there was not a castle outside these walls, that he hadn't just been given such a task by the most darkest wizard of all time, that he had just come home perhaps to find the one he loved asleep already, the one he loved who had tried to wait up for him but gave in to the warmth of sleep. He was good at pretending.

He sat up against the headboard and pillows looking down upon Harry's calm face, of the way those eyelashes fell against those reddened cheeks, the way he could see the boy's shoulder blades through the tight cotton fabric of the shirt, the exposed skin that he longed to touch. His body felt so weightless, so lost in this scene between them, practically laying in bed together and how he had wanted this, how he had thought about it in simple moments while he watched his students work over their cauldrons, in simple seconds where his eyes would catch the boy's own across the room, and he was so obsessed with it, divinely obsessed with wanting them to be together.

His right hand reached out and he brushed his fingertips through the boy's hair, along the side of Harry's face, so gently against those lips. Harry's eyes flickered open after a moment, blinking and the boy sat up on his elbows quickly taking in a breath and turning his body slightly to see Severus there staring into those bleary blue eyes. Harry's eyes widened, those cheeks reddening further and it was an enjoyable embarrassed expression that the boy was giving him.

And at once the boy was about to get up from the bed but Severus wouldn't have any of that and he grabbed the boy's upper arm, maneuvering his own body in one swift movement as he was over Harry's body now, on his hands and knees once more. He enjoyed this position very much. Harry's lips were parted as he stayed quite still, those eyes still broadened behind the frames of his glasses.

But then Harry was glaring at him, his jaw tensing and so suddenly the boy's hand reached for one of the pillows. It was such a quick movement as the pillow struck the side of his head, filling the room with the odd sound. He hadn't expected such a reaction from Harry and the blow hadn't hurt at all and when he opened his eyes Harry's expression was anger mixed with concern which just made Severus want to laugh. The boy held the pillow up still, clutching it in his hand. Severus took the arm with his own hand carefully.

"Harry, I'm sorry…" Severus began and he didn't want to waste time dealing with the boy's frustration and he certainly didn't want to see any tears. He leaned in quickly to kiss Harry but the boy had grabbed another pillow from underneath his head, bringing it up against Severus's face and filling the room with that sound again. The pillow came away slowly and Severus was left staring at Harry's fearful eyes. The pillows fell from the boy's hands.

"Perhaps you can just tell me why it is you are upset with me," Severus said with narrowed eyes.

Severus noticed the soft tremble in the boy's body as his hands were at his sides now and Severus's eyes couldn't help but linger over the boy's bare stomach but he came back to staring at Harry's face.

"Must I wait much longer for you to explain it to me? Or shall I start guessing?" Severus whispered.

And those timid eyes were bright and he really didn't mind Harry's childlike reactions but he did care that he had hurt the boy in some way, that behind those eyes there was that deep sorrow, that grief and guilt and that this body was capable of a mean temper.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you know what I have to do, you know I cannot hesitate…" Severus said softly.

Harry's eyes saddened but there was still that slight irritation there.

"Just say something next time…" Harry signed as he had brought his hands up and before him. "If it happens again…say something…just let me believe you'll be alright…If it isn't too much to ask…" Those lips were quivering softly.

Severus bowed his head slightly, closing his eyes as his hands pressed into the bed. No one had really truly worried over him the way this boy did and he wanted to tell the boy so many things, gentle things, things that Harry would like to hear because he knew what the boy liked to hear. He opened his eyes to stare into Harry's and he wanted the night to be forever, for time to stop, but he felt like that in every moment like this one. Perhaps it was different here, perhaps he needed it this time.

"I will remember it…for next time," Severus said quietly.

"I'm sorry…for coming in here without permission…" Harry signed.

"That I do not care for much," Severus said. "But you are not to drink any alcoholic beverage without my consent, is that understood?"

"Yes…" Harry signed. "It tasted horrible anyway…"

Severus couldn't stop the slight smile that came to his face.

"Is it late?" Harry signed.

Severus looked over the boy's face and those blushing cheeks and his right hand brushed through the boy's hair as he leaned in.

"Not too late," Severus whispered and his lips fell over the boy's and it was heavenly as his heart that had felt so constricted earlier was now free to beat as fast as it wanted. He kissed Harry greedily, making the boy gasp for breath when he came away and began to kiss all along that neck sucking for a long moment upon the skin as his left hand pushed the boy's tight shirt up. He felt all along the boy's torso, making the muscle tense and shudder.

He knew he would need to leave soon but he wouldn't go without pleasuring the boy first. He returned to kissing those lips and his left hand fell over Harry's forming erection that he could feel through those jeans. He thought quickly of what way he wanted to satisfy the boy.

"I'll be right back," Severus whispered against the boy's lips. He came away from Harry and off the bed, walking over to the restroom quickly. Once inside he opened one of the cabinets and found the white bottle, grabbing it and he returned to the bed where Harry had sat up with his legs underneath him, looking at Severus with a curious expression.

"What's that?" Harry signed and the boy's cheeks were flushed, eyes shy.

Severus took pleasure in the way Harry was looking at him; he could tell the boy was somewhat scared at the sight of the bottle in his hand, obviously wondering what he was going to do with it.

"You don't have to look so frightened," Severus said with a smirk as he stood at the side of his bed and placed the bottle on the table beside it. His heart was shivering with anticipation and he was surprised that he looked forward to what he was about to do, how he wanted it and that he had known for a while now that no one had touched Harry in the ways he had done, no one had taken his sweet virtue. He didn't really know how he felt that he had been the first to do these things with Harry but it did give him a sense of relief and unruliness about his body.

Severus moved on to the bed and Harry was just sitting there looking at him, waiting nervously. Severus's hands reached out and lifted the boy's shirt up and he smiled softly when Harry realized he was trying to take it off and hurried to raise his arms and Severus pulled the shirt off and let it fall upon the bed. He let his eyes linger over the boy's upper body and the soft trembling in those shoulders.

"And your jeans too," Severus said in just a whisper and watched the red in those cheeks burn. "Harry, don't be embarrassed." He had lost count of how many times he had said those words to the boy.

Harry leaned back, his legs coming out from under him and Severus unbuttoned the boy's pant's, unzipped them, and began to pull them off as Harry lifted his body slightly. Severus was gentle about it and almost agonizingly slow as he watched those eyes shut tightly. He exposed those thighs and the toned muscle in them, those knees and the boy's legs. He took off the jeans and Harry's dark gray socks came with them and it was the first time he had seen the boy with only his boxers on and those black boxers were short, hugging the boy's skin and the noticeable bulge there. Harry hands were holding tight to the silk sheets, his eyes on Severus, staring with such sweet innocence but there was that want there, that desire trying not to show itself. Harry needed to learn not to be ashamed of what his body wanted.

Severus needed to learn it as well.

"Lie down, on your stomach," Severus said and Harry obeyed although slowly.

The boy was on his stomach, his head supported on the pillows, turned to keep his eyes on Severus, arms up by his shoulders, fingers shivering somewhat. Harry's body, those colors, looked right with the colors of his bed and those blue eyes burned into him in the golden glow of the room and those lips were parted, tongue slipping out to lick them nervously.

"Just relax, Harry," Severus said in a gentle yet desirable tone. "I can make up for the worry I put you under."

Harry blinked quickly as he watched Severus reach for the bottle. It was body massage lotion. Severus pushed the cap down and he was met with the smell of white citrus. Severus had never cared to use it before but he had probably purchased it on some sort of whim he had forgotten about. But it would be useful now.

He came to the boy's side, his legs underneath him and dispensed a good amount in his left palm. He set the bottle back on the table.

"It might be a bit cold," Severus said softly as he placed his hands down upon Harry's naked back. Harry's body tensed, barely flinching and those eyes shut tightly once more and those hands grabbed the sheets.

Severus began to work his strong hands along the boy's skin, the muscles of his back, massaging gently, only pressing with a minimal amount of force and he could feel the tension leaving the boy's body in seconds and those eyes fluttered opened, staring forward at nothing, feeling Severus's hands mold him and he knew it felt good to the boy. He massaged those shoulders in a slow rhythm and Harry's breathing was so relaxed now to Severus's ears. He blended in the lotion that was now warming up with his touching into that heated skin, finely, almost worshiping it.

And his dark eyes were lost in the sensual movements of his hands, of the way the shadows played about Harry's body, the way the skin moved and felt so tight. His hands looked big to him on the boy's back. The boy had squirmed somewhat when he had gone further down to his lower back and his sides and Severus had enjoyed it. He moved to sit in-between Harry's laid out legs and the boy had flinched when he spread them wider to be able to get his hands on the boy's thighs and he used more of the lotion. He began to move his hands against the skin, feeling those thighs, pressing into them. It was easy to notice Harry was struggling now, eyes squeezing shut, hands gripping at the pillow underneath his head, legs trembling, and body shaking with a light vibration. When he thought he had put in a good amount of attention he began to touch the boy more provocatively, coming over the boy's body on his hands and knees and Harry was panting now, legs spreading further. There was a heat in his chest as his right hand was now stroking in-between the boy's thighs, coming underneath the bulge there to feel the growing warmth.

Harry's face was so flushed, muscles tense now and Severus knew he needed to quicken his pace.

"Get on your knees, Harry," Severus said and there was a slight quiver in his voice.

Harry hesitated for a short moment before hiding his face in the pillow and lifting himself on his elbows and knees. Severus's own breath came out in a faint shudder. And he had no idea how he could be doing this when he felt shamed by it but he hardly worried for it in the back of his mind, not when Harry was in such a position, not when he wanted it as those eyes found his, shaking, shining, glistening with fear and need, deciding whether or not this was right or wrong, deciding if it was worth it to care, wondering how he would deal with it tomorrow, not caring for tomorrow, begging for tonight, begging for he knew what was going to come, and trying so hard not to look afraid.

Harry was so striking in this moment, in the moment where Severus knew how vulnerable Harry's heart was, how trusting, how timid, how self-conscious and those eyes were praying that he was good enough, scared to realize that he wanted Severus to find the boy's body attractive, asking him quietly, mutely if this was good enough and it was so private, such raw intimacy, and he didn't care how they had come to this point together, he didn't care of the things he had done in the past, he didn't care that he was afraid of the things he would have to do, that he would need to leave soon, to succumb to such loneliness, that his thoughts would try to focus on the job he had to do and not yield to this memory.

But he lived for these stolen minutes.

"You're stunning, Harry," Severus whispered as he bent over the boy's body. A small gasp escaped the boy's lips. Severus was on his knees, his hands coming around Harry's waist, his body pressing down somewhat and the boy's body trembled.

He pulled the front of Harry's boxers down, letting the stiff member free. He reached over and applied more of the lotion in his right palm. Harry's back arched against him when Severus wrapped the hand around Harry's heated erection, the lotion warmed quickly from it as he began to stroke it in a slow motion. Severus could see the boy bite down hard on his lip and Severus leaned down to kiss Harry's neck, his lips dancing over the flesh. Harry's face was aflame when Severus began to pump him harder, not caring for the mess it was making over the silk sheets. Harry's lips were shimmering as he was gasping out in pleasure, those dark brown locks messy on the boy's forehead.

It was so quick, the speed of it and his eyes were locked on Harry's face, the expression he made, the brilliant light in those eyes, his tensing jaw. Harry's hands were in a vice grip on the pillow as he stroked him, the lotion making a fine lubricant and he rubbed Harry's genitals making the boy's back arch once again.

"Look at me," Severus said and it was barely audible.

But Harry's eyes glanced at him. And how he had fallen for those eyes, how he loved the way Harry's body was pressed up against him and he knew he was heavy on it, and the love was so heavy in his heart that it ached, his throat ached and he wanted to say so many things but he couldn't. Harry was moving underneath him, those legs tensing, body coming closer to the bed as he buried his face in the pillow again, looking away.

Severus was quick to kiss Harry's neck again, biting down softly as his hand was stroking Harry's member. Through his black eyes he could see the glow in the room, he could feel his body temperature, how warm it was, the warmth that they shared together, the wonderful life in the body underneath him, the numb desperation of it, and he wanted to forget all the darkness that there had been between them, the splintered hatred, and he believed in their struggles, all that it took to get here, the moments they had shared in that restaurant, in that office, in that sitting room, and it was as if the sun was inside his body and he wanted to hold onto Harry so tightly, too tightly, to live within that body, that soul behind those blessed eyes.

"_Harry_..." he hissed out with such emotion.

This love was going to drive him insane.

Harry's body stiffened as he came, moving his head to the side quickly, gasping out harshly, eyes closed shut, teeth clenched, hands holding on for dear life against the sheets. Severus could feel the silent moan through Harry's hot back and his own muscles were quivering justly, his heart beating like a drum. The lucid white substance spilled out against his hand, dripping upon the sheets and Severus slowed his movements, taking in the scent of Harry's skin and that lotion. And with this dying moment he hadn't realized that he was so capable of loving this boy so desperately.

* * *

Harry sat in the hot bath wondering faintly when the heat in his cheeks would go away. He was still dizzy from everything that had happened on that bed and so embarrassed even if Snape had used the simple cleaning spell on the expensive silk sheets. His whole body felt so relaxed from the blissful and arousing massage. He had gotten painfully hard because of those working hands.

He had definitely been angry and emotional when he had opened his eyes to see that Snape had returned looking perfectly fine and Harry hated how he was so quick to forgive the man despite how silly he must have looked hitting the man with his pillows. He hadn't been able to control those actions or the war that was going on his mind to not let the man off easy and it had been the stress he was under and the horrible worry and the humiliation he felt for Snape finding him in the man's bed. He hadn't wanted to fall asleep but of course it had happened.

Harry was done washing his body and he let the water drain and grabbed the towel on the stool. The man had teased him and said they could shower together but Harry couldn't take much more embarrassment and he had felt faint just by the man suggesting such a thing and had chosen to take a bath in the guest restroom. It was almost 10 at night so he hurried to get dressed and dried off his hair and zipped up his jumper and put on his trainers. He came out of the restroom and Snape was in the sitting room dressed in his usual school attire and black robes.

Harry walked over to the man and glanced at him shyly.

"Harry," Snape said softly as he came over to Harry. The man took his hands into his own.

"You won't be seeing me this weekend," Snape said quietly. "I cannot tell you where I am going but just know I will be fine…"

Harry's expression grew worried.

"Is it…because you were called?" Harry signed, slipping his hands out of the man's own.

"Yes…" Snape answered. "I will be back Sunday night. What I am doing is not terribly dangerous. I will be alone."

Harry hesitated and his heart beat had quickened.

"But…is it…bad…I mean…" Harry didn't know how to ask the question.

"Harry, I will be fine," Snape said and he took Harry's hands once again. "Do not worry over me, do not stress over it. I am sorry I have to go and I know you will be wondering what it is I am doing and I apologize but it is not safe to tell you."

Harry pushed down the lump in his throat and tried his damndest to accept that Snape was a spy and this was the position he was in, Harry had always known this.

"Now, promise me you will be careful, that you will tend to your studies, that you will get your rest, eat well, and not wander around the school by yourself," Snape said in that velvet-like voice.

Harry blinked quickly trying to not feel how quickly this was going by as Snape let go of his hands.

"I promise," Harry signed numbly.

"Just know I will be thinking of you," Snape whispered and Harry closed his eyes as Snape was kissing him deeply. When those lips came away Harry blinked again trying not to let the tears reach his eyes.

They walked back to Gryffindor Tower and Harry walked fast to keep up with Snape's long strides. Harry was shivering by the time they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and before Snape spoke the password Harry signed quickly:

"Please…just be careful…"

"Of course," Snape said in a whisper. He spoke the password and those shined rich black eyes fell upon him once more. "Good night."

"Good night," Harry signed.

Snape turned swiftly, his robes picking up after him as he walked down the long corridor in the darkness and he was gone.

Harry clambered through the portrait entrance. The common room was deserted except for Hermione who was still in her school uniform and she was sitting at one of the high tables with plenty of books around her doing her homework. Her robes were slung over her chair and her legs were crossed, her right foot moving up and down as if to a tune she might be playing in her head.

Harry smiled softly as he walked over to the table and Hermione turned her head quickly, noticing him and she smiled.

"Hi Harry. You're back a bit late," Hermione said and there was sort of a suggestive tone in her voice.

"It's not even ten thirty," Harry signed and then scratched the back of his head and noticed his hair was still slightly damp.

Hermione's brown eyes were on him, staring somewhat intently as if studying him and Harry looked away and glanced at her homework.

"Ancient Runes?" Harry signed quickly.

"Yes, and Arithmancy and Charms," Hermione said and she sat up straighter, letting her quill down and folding her hands together upon the table and Harry didn't know why he was nervous and his cheeks were still hot.

The common room was warm because of the fire in the hearth and Harry unzipped his jumper, taking it off and feeling the relief from the heat. He slung it over the chair he was standing by.

"Did Professor Snape give you that?" Hermione asked in such a conversational tone.

Harry stared at her all too calm of face in confusion.

"Give me what?" Harry signed.

"The hickey," Hermione said in a dainty whisper.

Harry had been about to sit down in the chair, his body already falling slowly but as soon as she said the words he missed it completely and he fell swiftly to the floor, his foot hitting the leg of the chair. The reaction had been instant, uncontrollable. His right hand clamped over his neck quickly, his eyes wide and he couldn't breathe, his brain was stunned as he was staring up at her calm and knowing face, her hands still folded. And the world felt like it was crashing down around him.

* * *

A/N:

Ok, I hope everyone liked this chapter, I'm sorry if it was a bit slow paced and I hope it didn't disappoint. If you did not like it I apologize. Please review if you have the time, I really appreciate them and they give me a lot of inspiration.

*For those of you who may be wondering why Snape didn't get rid of the mark I would say that in his hurry he didn't realize Harry had one and it was not really noticeable by Harry's jumper's hood and the darkness of the corridors. Just for anyone who may be questioning it. Even Snape makes mistakes however little. And its about time someone knows.

I apologize if there are any errors that I may have missed.

You can PM if you have any questions, concerns, or complaints.

Thank you for reading. I hope everyone is well. : )


	31. Chapter 30: Steadfast

A/N: Hello there, I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter, they were amazing and I appreciate them very much. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter even if it is a bit shorter than the last two have been, the next chapter will be longer and with a faster pace. Well, I hope you enjoy:

**I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.**

**Warning: This chapter contains Graphic and Mature Content and M/M. Don't like it, don't read it, thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter 30: Steadfast **

"Harry, I think we should talk about this…" Hermione said in a whisper.

Harry was praying with his mind to be able to think clearly but the panic was drowning him. He had blown it, he hadn't even been able to come up with some lie or excuse about the mark on his neck, maybe a misfired jinx on Snape's part, it didn't have to sound believable, it could have been anything, anything to just deny what the girl had pointed out but no, Harry hadn't been able to do such a simple thing, hadn't been able to lie like he had been doing to her since he and Snape had started to become close, he hadn't been able to do his part in keeping their relationship a secret and he had felt so desperately now that he had failed the man.

He was so angry with himself for his obvious, idiotic reaction even though her words had been so shocking to him. She knew. But she was Hermione Granger, the know it all. Of course she knew, of course he hadn't been able to make it passed her amazing awareness, of her cursed attention to every single detail and now he was afraid, terrified that it had actually happened, that someone knew and he could feel his eyes burn, his heart shake, and he begged for some sort of mercy inside of his mind, and he was sorry for it all, for the lying, for the mistrust, for the fear that he had felt for so long that no one would accept this, would accept Snape and him together and he couldn't help but think that it would all be destroyed, it would be lost, he would lose Snape…

"I'm very disappointed in you Harry Potter," Hermione began to say but Harry had jumped up so quickly, rushing to her and he covered her mouth with his right hand, holding her shoulder tightly with his left and he was out of breath. Hermione gave him a surprised look at first and she had muttered something against his hand as her eyes narrowed at him.

Harry thought hastily and he brought his hands away and he took out his folded Invisibility Cloak from his back pocket. He threw it around the both of them, took her hand tightly and pulled her along as he rushed to the portrait hole.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione hissed at him but Harry shushed her, his tongue helping him make the noise.

He hurried both of them out of the portrait entrance and began to walk fast, tugging at Hermione's hand as he made her follow him down the corridor. His heart was pounding in his ears.

"Harry, we shouldn't be out of our dorm past curfew!" she whispered tensely at him.

He shushed her again, his anger and fear and frustration growing. Her hand was warm in his and he held on to it, afraid of what she thought of him, afraid to know what she would do now that she knew the truth, knew his secret.

They walked with haste through the dark shadows of the corridors and Harry was shivering since he did not have his jumper on anymore, only the thin, tight shirt. He came to the tapestry of the dancing trolls and began to pace back and forth three times before the empty wall across from it, dragging Hermione a long with him whose face held a look of annoyance as she rolled her eyes.

Once through the doors of the Room of Requirement and in the same room that he and Snape had their lessons in, Harry pulled off the Cloak and turned swiftly to face Hermione with worry filled eyes.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said with her hands on her hips.

"Please…please," Harry signed with trembling hands. "You can't tell anyone…please don't tell anyone, I'll do anything…"

"Harry, would you calm down?" Hermione said quickly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know what you're thinking, I know it's wrong, I know you probably hate me for this…" Harry signed and tears were forming in his eyes and he was shaking so badly.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted so loudly that her voice echoed throughout the room.

She was standing there with her hair pulled back in a pony tail, her cheeks somewhat rosy, her lips pressed together and her brown eyes ablaze with a determined pronouncement. Harry was still, his eyes lost in hers as he could barely feel his feet upon the grated metal floor and the bluish glow was cast over them and his heart was in so much pain because Hermione was his best friend, he loved having her with him, she was always there to support him, to keep his head on straight, to make him smile, to help him when he needed it the most, and he couldn't lose that, he couldn't and he was ashamed of himself that he had lied to her and it was unbearable.

"Please don't cry, Harry," Hermione said softly.

She walked away from him, turning around and he was left to smell the scent of her nice perfume, like flowers and vanilla. She went to the center of the room and it was there that big, red cushions appeared and she sat down gently, folding her skirt under her legs and she turned to face him, motioning for him to join her.

Harry made his legs work as he walked slowly over to her. He was thinking so many things at once. That she was angry with him, that she was going to hate him, that she was disgusted with him, and she would never look at him the same way again…He sat down across from her, bringing his knees to his chest, holding them tightly as if it would bring him any comfort but it did not.

Hermione took in a breath, closing her eyes and let it out softly as she placed her hands on her knees. Harry knew she was pretty; that kind of natural beauty that you could really see when she smiled. Her body had grown from an 11 year old nerdy girl with bushy hair and a bossy tone to a young intelligent woman with a graceful way about her and those authoritative, glossed brown eyes.

She meant so much to him. They were so good to each other, he loved their friendship, the way they were together, the way they understood each other just by looking at each other, the way they always knew what the other was feeling without words, the way they held each other up, kept each other grounded, it was a special love they shared quietly, a bond of friendship that they knew could never be anything more. They knew what the other was to each other, they always knew.

And now Harry didn't know what he would do if this were to die right before him and he wanted to shout at her, to plead with her with his own words to understand because it wasn't enough to just sign them, it wasn't enough to make someone understand what Snape meant to him, it was impossible, he couldn't put it in words, he couldn't put it in writing, it was just the way his heart beat around Snape, it was the way his skin would feel, just the way he could just be alive with Snape, the way the color of the world was so vibrant to his eyes, how he felt like he could actually survive all of this, to breathe against the deep ache in his chest, to have something that was beyond special.

"I don't hate you Harry," Hermione said, breaking the silence around them. "And I'm really hurt that you would think I would because of this."

Harry's shoulders were trembling softly as he lifted his shining eyes to stare into hers.

"But…how…" Harry began to sign not willing to believe what she might have meant by those words; not daring to try.

"You're my _best_ friend, Harry," Hermione said in such a gentle but strong tone. "I'm only angry and hurt because you didn't tell me and I had to discover it in such a way. I was going to confront you either way tonight even if you didn't come back with a hickey." She shook her head, closing her eyes and her face held an expression of that hurt and touchiness.

Harry held his breath as he waited and then signed:

"How…how long have you known?"

"Well, I started to suspect something at the start of term, the way Snape looked at you, how miserable you were when you two were arguing," Hermione said simply. "I was sure you weren't together yet, that you were just friends still but it was before you beat up Malfoy that I really knew it had to be something more with the way you acted and the way Snape looked…"

"Wait," Harry signed quickly. "Why are you saying it in such a casual way…you can't really…I mean…you can't be ok with this…"

"I will admit that I was a little worried at first, well, I was unsure of it and it was quite surprising but honestly I was worried for you Harry…" Hermione said gently.

"What do you mean?" Harry signed nervously.

"Well I was worried that he would hurt you in the end, I mean…I don't really know Professor Snape all that well but obviously he didn't seem like the kind of person to do well in a relationship…I was afraid that you would get too far in and he would back off and wind up hurting you," Hermione said as she was holding her hands together on her lap. "But as I was saying, after what you did to Malfoy…I knew something had changed between the two of you."

Harry tried to calm his racing heart as he sat there.

"I see the way you look at him, Harry, and I see the way he looks at you…" she said with such softness to her voice, like rose petals. "If anyone wanted to notice it, I'm sure they would."

Harry's thoughts stumbled over themselves and he wanted to say something but Hermione continued:

"And I thought ok, this might be a little strange but not unheard of and if it makes him happy, if he is happy…then there's nothing wrong with it…"

Harry's breath came out in a shudder as he felt the tears in his eyes once again and his heart was still shivering in his chest. It felt like something had broken inside of him, shattering like crystal but then instantly rebuilding itself as if it had never happened.

"You're not…disgusted…You're not angry…revolted?" Harry signed and he remembered the dream he had.

"Why would I be? You look so happy when you come back from your lessons, the happiest I've seen you in a long time…especially since…you know," Hermione whispered.

And the relief was just as drowning and overwhelming as the fear had been. He wiped his eyes of the tears, feeling the heat in his cheeks and Hermione was looking at him with that delicacy in her eyes.

"I know it is dangerous…because it is Snape," Hermione continued as her eyes looked down upon the ground. "And I hope…everything will be alright…I won't lie, I am afraid for you Harry…but Snape…he's seems like he's being so good to you, protecting you…"

Harry nodded shortly and after weeks of feeling as if there had been a barrier between him and Hermione he could feel it vanish within the cold air in the room and he thought, and this thought brought more tears to his eyes, that he finally had _someone _in this with him, that he could talk to someone about this, that he wasn't alone. The liberation of it felt so frail, like a spider web but it was comforting, it was a lovely thing.

"Thank you…" it was all he could sign, he couldn't come up with any other words in this moment. Hermione accepting him and Snape together, it seemed impossible in spite of the fact that they were best friends and Harry felt somewhat foolish that he had actually believed that Hermione would come to hate him for it, would end their friendship over it.

"I just wished you could have told me sooner…" Hermione said in that matter-of-fact tone. "I would have been able to help you, to have been there for you…"

Harry smiled gently and even if there wasn't much warmth in his body somehow it felt as if a summer wind was passing across his skin.

"I'm really sorry," Harry signed. "Really…I just…I wanted to tell someone but then I wasn't sure because…it is Snape and I didn't want anything bad to happen…and I didn't know…I thought…"

"That I _would_ be disgusted?" Hermione said.

"Well…yeah…" Harry signed and looked at his knees.

"Harry, you're almost of age," Hermione said quickly. "No one can tell you who to be with and sometimes you can't help it…"

"But it's…Snape," Harry signed with apprehensive eyes.

"So? He's not some monster," Hermione said strictly. "I mean sure, the age difference might be problematic…but considering the fact that wizards and witches age much slower than muggles…it won't seem that way physically…And I know there are quite a few other reasons that may put a great deal of stress on the both of you…I won't mention them, like the whole student and teacher being in a relationship, obviously you know…but…" and she let out a breath, "if it _is_ what you both want…if it is real…I can only wish you two the best."

"So...Are you sure you don't think it's weird?" Harry signed slowly.

"It's somewhat weird…" Hermione began.

Harry's heart sank a little at that.

"You are much too good for him…" she finished.

"What?" Harry signed hastily, his eyes broadening. Perhaps, despite being the girl's best friend for more than 5 years, he didn't know absolutely everything about Hermione but truthfully he could never really understand that astonishing brain of hers.

"I mean, Snape's alright…" Hermione said and Harry caught the flush in her cheeks. "This is very awkward for me to say…" she had muttered under her breath and she took in a breath, eyes closing then opening to look right into Harry's own, "When he's not scowling or sulking in dark corners he's handsome…on the rugged side but still…and he's still young, especially according to a wizard's age…I mean he's changed a lot since last term, I would think it was because of you…"

"You're rambling…" Harry signed with a look of uneasiness.

"What I mean is…clearly you're only sixteen and very handsome...even if your height is below the average male's…" Hermione said and Harry glared at her.

She stopped and took another breath, her hands coming up before her as if to show her apology and then resting again atop her skirt.

"You're so good natured Harry, you're very kind and loyal," Hermione said in a very soft tone with contrite eyes. "And Snape…well…you're almost like complete opposites…and I am _not _saying that it's a bad thing…it's just…Do you want this Harry? I mean…its wrong if you're just…making yourself believe it or if you're confused…"

"I've never wanted something this much in my life…" Harry's eyes were true and it was as if the words signed themselves and he had never admitted this to anyone but himself.

They stared at each other for a moment in genuineness and Harry could feel the cold breaths he was letting out and he thought of Snape and how he already missed him.

"I just want you to be happy, Harry," Hermione whispered. "And now you know I'm here for you."

Harry nodded once and the trembling had slowed in his body and it was just a gentle shiver here and there.

"So…when did _it _start?" Hermione asked.

Harry blinked and wondered why she wanted to know more.

"Well…like you said…after Malfoy…well, before that I knew I was starting to…fall for him…" Harry signed and he felt the heat rise against his cheeks. He couldn't believe he was telling her these things. "And at first…I thought Snape would never feel that way about me and I was scared and didn't know what to do…but after what happened with Malfoy…he confessed to me first…"

"Really?" Hermione said intriguingly.

Harry nodded.

"And?" Hermione said quickly.

"And what?" Harry signed.

"What happened next?" Hermione said and her tone was somewhat urgent.

"Are you really interested in it?" Harry signed.

"Of course I am," Hermione said and her voice had gotten higher. "I'm your best friend after all."

"Does being a girl have anything to do with it?" Harry signed with a slight smirk.

"That's chauvinistic but…possibly," Hermione replied.

"Well…that Saturday…Snape took me to that beach again…" Harry signed. "The one he took me to on my birthday."

"I knew that was salt water I smelled!" Hermione said with an excited tone.

"Well yeah…" Harry signed. "Well…I guess it was a date…and…well…we…you know…kissed…" The heat rose swiftly to his cheeks and he couldn't look her in the eyes.

"Hm…I didn't think Snape could be…" Hermione started.

"Romantic?" Harry signed against his better judgment. "A picnic was involved…"

Hermione let out a short laugh but then pressed her lips together when Harry narrowed his eyes.

"It's…unbelievable really," Hermione said.

"Tell me about it…" Harry signed. "He's…really nice to me…his cooking is amazing and he plays the piano and…" Harry stopped and his cheeks were burning.

"How…far have you two…you know…gone?" Hermione said hesitantly, her voice getting lower with every word until it was a whisper.

"What do you mean?" Harry signed.

Hermione let out a short sigh.

"I mean, have you…had _sex_ yet?" Hermione said in that whisper even if no one could possibly hear them here. Her eyes had glanced away from him when she had said the word "sex".

Harry swallowed hard and it was as if flames were licking at his cheeks and ears. Hermione giggled.

"Of course not," Harry signed quickly feeling such embarrassment.

"It's ok if you haven't, it's a good thing really, it's good to take things slow, it's only been a few weeks," Hermione said in that matter-of-fact tone.

"It's not that…I mean…we've done…other things…that aren't…sex," Harry had paused as he had to remember the sign for "sex".

There was a tinge of red in the girl's cheeks and she giggled again.

"Please stop giggling," Harry signed.

"Sorry," Hermione said.

"Oh god, why am I telling you these things?" Harry signed as he put his head on his knees.

"Punishment for lying to me," Hermione said almost slyly.

"I didn't lie…exactly…" Harry signed but Hermione only narrowed her eyes.

Harry let out a weighted sigh.

"Anyway…what I was trying to say is…" Harry signed quickly. "You should only have sex when you're in love…"

Harry found his heart trembling as he admitted this. Hermione was silent for only a moment before asking gently:

"Do you…love him?"

Harry was staring into those light filled brown eyes and he was having trouble finding his breath. His brain felt stunned once more and for some reason the deep, cold ache in his chest felt like it was suffocating him, tearing at his ribs as if claws were against them.

"I…don't know…" Harry signed while he shook his head slightly.

Did he love Snape?

Love.

And somehow the word felt like a stranger to him. He had loved, he knew what love was, unconditional love, the great love he had shared with Sirius, the love that had filled the deep, deep well in his heart.

He could love.

That was the one thing he had against Voldemort. The power the Dark Lord knows not. But did he love Snape? Could he love Snape? Harry tried to search within himself, within his torn heart but it terrified him as if he were thrown in to some pitch black place where there was no one to lead him through it, no light to be his own guide and he was left to be afraid and wandering in that torturous, never-ending dark. But what really did terrify him above everything else was the question he was suddenly asking himself in the back of his mind like mist creeping up in the night over grassy knolls:

Did Snape love him?

Or better yet:

Could Snape love him?

"Harry?" Hermione's voice swam up to his ears and it felt as if heavy coins had been dropped all over the floor, rattling his attention and shaking out his breath. He knew he cared greatly for Snape, so much so that his heart bled with it, felt twisted, hurt, stabbed, but love? Did he want Snape to love him? Could he expect such a thing? Such a gift? And it was with these flickering thoughts like Christmas lights blinking in a snow storm did he understand one thing: He was afraid of love.

He had loved Sirius; with his whole heart, all that he was without knowing how but just knowing and then he had lost that love in a split, sharp second when his godfather had gone beyond the Veil and something had ripped from Harry's heart, that absolute love, that perfect understanding, something he had never known he could ever have until he had met Sirius and it was gone, stolen, before he even had a chance to live long moments in it, to bask in it, to cry over it, and all he could do now, though he didn't have the strength to, was remember what it had felt like to his body.

Harry had to be honest with himself. He was afraid to begin to even think that he could take that chance. Even though it was different it was still love, that certain kind of love that people could promise forever…He didn't know if he could risk it again, he didn't know at all of what to do…he couldn't even begin to know if Snape wanted Harry to love him. But he wasn't nearly brave enough to ask these questions, to expose himself like that, to hand over his heart; hell, it had taken everything out of him to just let Snape take off his jeans that night and to lie like that before him on the man's bed no less…he was spent for courage at the moment.

"Love isn't always instant, Harry," Hermione said gently.

Harry nodded without feeling his head move.

"You can just take it one day at a time," the girl said and she took Harry's right hand into her own.

Somehow his eyes lifted to meet hers and in spite of these rising, conflicted thoughts he smiled softly because he still had her even if she knew his secret and he couldn't have wished for anything more in this moment. They stood slowly and Harry came forward, hugging her tightly and he felt her wrap her arms around him, holding tightly as well. They came away shyly and Harry knew it was still somewhat awkward for her to know the truth.

"Please…You can't tell anyone, not even Ron," Harry signed quickly, his eyes sincere.

"I know that," Hermione said. "I know how crucial it is to keep this secret, Harry."

Harry nodded in finality.

"We should get back, it must be late," Hermione said lightly.

They walked hand in hand together under the Invisibility Cloak back to Gryffindor Tower and Hermione whispered the password as they were both shivering now. Once inside their warm, fire lit common room Harry took of the Cloak, pocketing it and Hermione had taken out her wand.

Harry had given her a questioning look.

"I can put a glamour charm over that if you'd like," Hermione said. "It'll do for now. It's better than make up, anyway."

Harry smiled at her and nodded.

"Turn your head to the left," Hermione said.

Harry did so and Hermione flicked her wand gracefully.

"There, the hickey is gone," Hermione said with a small smile.

"Thanks," Harry signed.

"What are you doing?"

Both Harry and Hermione turned their heads swiftly to see Ron in his sleeping clothes and a maroon robe coming down the stairs. Harry realized just how close he was standing before Hermione and took a step back in unison with Hermione saying to the boy:

"Homework, Charms, just practicing."

"It's almost midnight…" Ron said in a low tone with narrowed eyes. "I came down because I woke up and you weren't in bed, Harry…got worried…"

Harry tried to look natural as his eyes met Ron's light blue ones.

"I couldn't sleep," Harry signed quickly.

"Right…" Ron said justly.

"I think I could sleep now though…" Harry signed and Hermione had gone quickly to the table where she had been doing her homework on and began to put away her things.

Harry waited under Ron's gaze and then hurried past the boy.

"Good night, Harry," Hermione said gently.

"Good night," Harry signed after he had grabbed up his jumper and he almost ran upstairs to the boy's dormitories.

Harry changed quickly into his sleeping wear in the darkness of his dorm and got under his covers, trying to make the small quake in his body lessen. His heart sped up when he heard Ron return and the boy went back to bed. Harry listened to the soft rain fall outside as he breathed in the chilled air around him. His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts but he tried not to dwell on them all. Instead he thought of Snape and what the man was doing right now, if he was alright, praying he wasn't hurt, believing he would be fine, wishing the next two days would pass by as fast as lightning, and before his eyes drifted closed as sleep captured him, if Snape could be thinking of him this very second.

The sand he stood on was coated in ash. The sky above looked to be smeared in dark gray with blinding patches of sunlight. Everything was so cold around him and the waters of the ocean were such deep shadows of blue, the waves strong, crashing onto the shore and the sound of it filled his ears. He stood still as he watched the quivering ash drift down from the heavens like snowflakes and he could smell something burning but his body did not move.

Harry waited for what seemed like forever just staring out onto the ocean. So suddenly did someone pass by him; walking with long but slow strides. It was Snape dressed in a charcoal black suit and his black trench coat was blowing back from the strong winds. The man was walking toward the shore, his shined dress shoes making prints into the sand and gray powder. Harry's heart was racing as Snape turned his head slowly to look back at him. The wind made those dark locks whip about that composed face. The black pools were empty of emotion. Bits of ash were caught in the man's hair. Snape turned to face forward again, still walking and without hesitation he had begun to walk through the waters, dress shoes and all, walking as if nothing were in his way, walking so naturally, so confident and simple.

And Harry could not make his body move and he could not call out to Snape and everything was so silent despite the sounds of the ocean and the wind but his breath was ragged, his heart pounding, banging in his chest. Snape was so far away now; the man's body was getting deeper and deeper into the ocean and fear was reaching into Harry's heart. He didn't know what Snape was doing and he was confused. The water was up to the man's neck now but still Harry could not move; his body would not respond to the signals his brain was giving his legs.

Snape was gone in the next instant, body and head completely disappeared under the water, so far out and Harry waited, not understanding what or why, waiting for the man to surface but he did not. The next thing he knew he was running so fast to the ocean, to get to the those dark waters and then his body was met with the freezing waters but he was already swimming hard, trying desperately to get to the spot where Snape had disappeared. Alarm was stinging Harry's heart and brain, restricting his breathing. He dived under, ignoring the numbing ice cold water against his body, ignoring the way it made his heart feel as if it had stopped, but all he could see was shadow, black and cavernous and nothing more no matter how far he swam down.

When he felt as if he were about to drown, his lungs burning, he resurfaced, choking and gasping and looking all around him, keeping himself above the water that moved his body about like nothing. Snape was gone as if it had just been a ghost of the man, an apparition in this world he was in where the ash was still falling lightly, dancing in the wind, covering the sand of the shore, sinking into the freezing ocean.

Harry had turned to face the horizon and his eyes were met with white, perfectly white lilies all floating on the surface before him, twirling atop the waves. And Harry was left alone and amongst the flowers, alone in a desolate place where he felt as if he could wait in the cold forever, making his arms and legs work forever to keep him up, breathing, alive, waiting and wishing forever for the sun to break through, for the warmth, for a fire against his skin, for the ashes to vanish, to be buried under the sand, buried along with all of the lonely, guilty, miserable feelings that bled into his heart.

Harry had felt strange when he had woken up from the eerie dream. He was somewhat lightheaded and he was shivering. He lay still for a long moment listening to the sounds of his sleeping dorm mates. His blurred vision was locked on the soft moving dust particles in the room caught in the sunlight that shown through the frosted window. His head felt heavy with just knowing that Snape wasn't in the castle at all and he shut his eyes tightly against the sudden speed of the pain that stretched into his heart.

He didn't want to worry, he didn't want to think about anything really but that was surely impossible because already, in a sudden half second he was already remembering the night before; Snape's strong hands on his back, the heat of the lotion, the feel of it, the look in the man's eyes, it was such a heavy gaze full of that devotion, a desperation, relief, tenderness, an uncontrolled depth that was so dangerous; Harry felt as if he had been falling too fast into those black eyes but he had craved it, craved that want, that need, that anxious affection.

He opened his eyes slowly, his fingertips brushing against his bed sheets and he could still feel the way the silk sheets of Snape's bed felt against his skin; like feathers shined before the sun, spreading out from the weight of their bodies, it had been so soft, such a comforting feeling and the way Snape's body had felt atop his own; it had been heavy, warm, the feel of the man's clothes against his skin had made him so hard; the way the cloth of Snape's dress pants felt against the back of his naked thighs, the fabric of his dress shirt against his back, those _buttons_ against his spine, pressing into it, solid and small but it was there, all of it was against his skin and there had hardly been anything to separate him from Snape, just his boxers, so thin, barely even there and he had wondered if he could have handled it if Snape had taken them off as well, he wondered many things now because things were getting far between them, going far and in the back of his mind he was ashamed because he _wanted _it…

He couldn't help but think what their skin would feel like together, naked together, rubbing, stroking, pressing, shuddering, shivering, trembling, sweating…he wondered what Snape looked like without anything on, just completely, utterly naked. His cheeks were on fire at this point in his thoughts that were flying away from his control and he could feel his member was already stiffening. He shut his eyes tightly but he was curious, too curious as to what it would feel like, what everything would feel like…

He wondered what sex would be like.

Harry shivered.

He wondered if Snape wanted to have sex with him.

Harry bit his lip.

He wondered who Snape had sex with before…Who he could have been with before...What had they looked like? Had it been a woman? Or a man? Why was Snape attracted to him? Why did Snape want to be with him?

Harry let out a breath and stopped his frenzied thinking and barrage of questions. It was no use to dwell on them, how much did they matter really? He needed to be careful, he needed to trust the man, he needed to believe in the two of them even if all it led to was wishful thinking. It was all he had, it was all he could want, it was all he wanted to want. He wouldn't care if they would be accepted, no, he just needed to be by the man's side, to be with Snape, to feel that pull. He let his heart reach out to Snape, lightly, carefully, like the special way the sunlight dances on snow, like the easiness of the moon rising. Or maybe it had been quick, desperate, greedy like the way their breathing was erratic when they would be lost in pleasure; the way sleep would come, unknowing, secret, fast, hushed. Whichever way it had been he could never have saw it coming.

He smiled at that and was asleep again in seconds.

* * *

Severus took a long drink from the water canteen as he was sitting before the mouth of the cave and the sun was bright. He could feel the weak sting of weariness in his eyes but it didn't much bother him. He had spent an hour and a half down in the dark caverns of the caves carefully gathering the anthodite needles that were on the list of ingredients. He put away the canteen and rubbed at his gloved hands, the thin black leather was tight and made his fingers uncomfortable but he had to be cautious with the crystals.

He knew it wasn't aiding him in any way to be taking a break but he had been at this wide search expedition for over 17 hours now and he felt he deserved it. He brushed a hand through his hair that was windswept and wavier than he would have liked and grimaced shortly at the dirt caked at the bottom of his black boots. He could feel that he was agitated, his nerves were stretching themselves again but sitting there on the ground with the smell of cold and damp earth strong to his nose seemed to calm him. He was out amongst the world again and even if he had just been down in the shadows of the caverns it did not feel anything like being in the dungeons.

But this borrowed freedom, these hours of searching and gathering, it did not take his mind away from Harry but he doubted he would have let it happen. He wondered what the boy could be doing and considering time zones the boy's Saturday afternoon was almost done. However the difference in time zones did not matter to him, all that mattered was the hours that had passed by on his own watch timer. All that mattered was finding every ingredient on the list before the 48 hours were up. Severus let out a soft breath and rested his back against the rock. His muscles were tense, his shoulders stiff as he rubbed at them. This sort of scenery before him was dull to his eyes; limestone, dry shrubbery and cacti, rock and the pale blue sky above.

But he knew Harry would enjoy it; Harry could enjoy many things because he had not yet seen nearly as much as Severus had. He found his mind drifting once again, off onto scattered possibilities, the unsure future, but he hoped for it foolishly that he and the boy could travel to far off places, anywhere, no matter if they knew magic, no matter if certain places would be full of muggles, he wanted such things, he wanted time, lots of it, he wanted forever, he wanted to feel every way Harry's heart could beat, he wanted to watch those blue eyes age, if they would change, if he would notice the change. He wanted years, full years of seasons, of calendar schedules, of lazy days where the hours just slipped by and they would do nothing, absolutely nothing…

He was hopeless and perhaps imprudent and just silly but he closed his eyes and he could see Harry so clearly, every movement as the boy had placed himself so slowly on his lap and he could feel the shaking of the boy's limbs, of those fingers, the heat of Harry's kisses upon his neck, the touch against his skin when his collar had been unbuttoned, the feel of the boy's hand brushing up and down against his chest, a simple rhythm, easy and innocent but how arousing and true it had been, how it had put such a weight on his heart, in his very veins, as if the blood in them reacted to it, and he had no sort of beginning to an idea of how Harry could do this to him, how it was possible but it was there, it lived and it was the truth.

Severus could remember it so evidently the way Harry had gotten on his knees in-between his legs and the sight of it had been so enticing, so erotic but those eyes were so lovely; brilliantly vivid, like the sun was now, hot against his eyelids, creating that soft glowing red against them. And Harry's stare had been confident but Severus looked passed it to find the still fear, the gleaming innocence, the wondering thoughts that he wanted so desperately to see.

The sight had made him so achingly hard, ready and greedy for that mouth, those pink lips and he forgot about slowing things down, forgot about hesitancy, about fear and caution, it flew away, vanished as soon as Harry had unbuttoned his pants, he could watch those trembling fingers work forever on those buttons and almost wished Harry had undid his dress shirt. He had to keep telling himself that Harry had wanted this and to know Harry had wanted it, it was mesmerizing to his senses, to his numbing mind and his breath that was quickening as soon as he felt that tongue lapping at his member, wet and unsure but the feeling of it, it made him want to let go, it made his heart pound, it made him want to do so many things to the boy.

The pace of it was so tantalizing and no one had ever done this to him before, he had never felt such a careful pleasure before. Harry was careful, gentle at first but so very uncertain but it felt blissful, too good and he had to control the sounds that wanted to escape his lips as Harry had begun to suck; slowly, he could have been teasing Severus but he knew Harry didn't really know how to do such things, but the sight of the boy, on his knees, cheeks so flushed, throat muscles working tightly, lips so wet, coating his member in saliva, in that heat, feeling the head hitting the back of Harry's throat, he couldn't comprehend how hot it was, how so much pleasure could come from it, sliding in and out, deeply and the boy was trying to take Severus in as far as he could manage and it was too much. The sight was too much for his senses, he could feel his arousal at his fingertips, his toes, everywhere, teasing his skin, even his nipples and his chest was rising and falling in a quick pace.

He had closed his eyes and had leaned back to just bask in the feeling as the speed heightened and he couldn't hold back the noise he had let out and the hiss of the boy's name. The feeling was overpowering, the sounds Harry's mouth was making; he hardly cared for the clumsiness of it, the shyness of it, because Harry was still careful, and that tongue was massaging all the right places, the bundle of sensitive nerves around the head, sliding underneath, long and continuous, it was almost a torture of pleasure.

It was Harry doing this, overcoming his timid body and embarrassment and just going at it with a confidence that made Severus so ready, so attracted to it, he wanted to take it in, consume it. He watched with half open eyes the tears that held at the corners of Harry's own eyes, shut tightly, and the red in those cheeks made him even harder, it hurt to be this hard, this stimulated and he wanted to move his own body, to thrust into that mouth but it was much too soon for such things but all he knew was that he didn't give a damn about any of the consequences, of rules, of self preservation. He only cared for seeing those glossed over blue eyes look up at him while Harry's mouth was full of his cock.

He had lost his composure because of it, his heart was wild, his breath sporadic, his body hot with desire, and those tearful, wanting eyes were his, all of it, the way Harry was, all of him, every detail of that face, the way the dark brown locks were brushed back as he played with Harry's hair, stroking it, his mind and body lost in the speedy rhythm of Harry's motions, the sucking, the pressure, the tight heat in his stomach, knowing he would climax soon and he wanted to spill his come into that mouth, into that throat and he was ashamed, embarrassed, he felt too vulnerable and lost, it was almost painful but his back stiffened, his muscles tensed and quivered and he had never known how good this could be but it wasn't just the act of it, it was just Harry, it was the love in Severus's eyes, the love Harry couldn't understand or know or figure out, whatever it was, it stole his breath from his lungs, it claimed his soul, it made him believe in the love.

And he came, rushing, harsh but all too good, all too pleasant as if he had been so hungry for it and was utterly satisfied and he could feel how sensitive it was when Harry swallowed his seed, drank the most he could as some had escape down his chin and those eyes were positively striking, there was such beauty in them and he loved how careful they were, how delicate but powerful. He knew Harry would always make him lose control. It had always been that way, well before he had cared for the boy, and perhaps that made him love him even more so.

Severus opened his eyes to take in what was now and it was quiet, tranquil, as if the earth were sleeping. He could feel he had gotten aroused from remembering that night but he settled himself, his mind, clearing it, calming it. It had become a guilty pleasure to him now; to allow himself to be lost in fantasy, to pretend but it kept him going, it kept him from being lost in anguished worry, it kept him from living too much in reality and it made this love stronger.

He stood and put his black traveling cloak back on and picked up his bag. He had less than 29 hours left. With a loud crack that echoed across the landscape he Apparated.

* * *

"So, you haven't really talked about things, about the future?" Hermione asked and Harry caught the pause in the question. This was still very awkward to talk about.

"No…I don't know…it's just, he doesn't mention it really…and I'm…not sure if I should," Harry signed. "I get too nervous…you know? It's like…I don't want to mess anything up…and I don't want to bother him about it…"

"I can understand that…he is Snape after all…" Hermione said in a simple tone.

They were in the Room of Requirement and it was just before lunch. Harry lay on his stomach, his legs swinging lazily up in the air, his chin resting on the soft red cushion. Hermione was in the same position before him with _Confronting the Faceless _open before her on the grated floor. She had a quill in her right hand and her notebook open right next to the textbook. Harry had settled to wear a cotton dark red shirt and light jeans and his warm gray jumper again and black trainers. Hermione was wearing one of the sweaters Mrs. Weasley had made; a pattern of white, purple, pink, and blue stripes, as well as dark jeans and white trainers. Harry's eyes were half open, sleepy, staring at the slight curls in the girl's hair, listening to the sound of the quill scratching upon the notepaper.

They had retreated to the Hidden Room after Ron had made it obvious that he was in a bad mood and hadn't talked to them much at all at breakfast, rather preferring to sit with Seamus and Lavender. Harry had glared irritably at the boy then, knowing that Ron was under the influence of the misunderstanding from the night before but not believing the boy could think such a thing, that he was involved with Hermione and keeping it as some sort of secret. He was angry that the boy could treat their friendship in such a way and wanted to laugh as to how wrong Ron was about everything.

He knew Hermione was too annoyed to talk about it and honestly he wasn't really the best type of person to discuss relationships or to figure out how to get either Ron or Hermione to have the proper braveness to talk to each other about how they felt. He was much too depressed to care for it he had to admit, much too anxious and too worried and he knew it was bad of him especially since Hermione had put herself out there to be there for Harry and to be understanding.

"But…he cares about me…I know that much," Harry signed as she looked at him.

"He's said that before?" Hermione asked softly.

"Loads of times…" Harry signed as he lifted his eyes.

"It's just…so different," Hermione said as her eyes looked up and to the right and she smiled and looked back down at her notes. "I can tell when he's worried about you…It's such a change from what he used to be like…Can you believe it most of the time?"

"I don't know…" Harry signed with a small smile of his own. "I don't even know really when it happened…I should feel weird…and I do sometimes…but…it doesn't matter…I just…don't want it to change…"

Hermione's eyes grew brighter as she was looking at him. Harry let out a sigh. The hours of the day were going by so measurably; it was agony on his heart and his patience.

"Do you think he's just as nervous as you? To talk about it?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Harry smirked.

"Snape's hardly nervous…about anything…" Harry signed but he doubted what he told her. He knew Snape could be bothered by things no matter how composed that face was, no matter how refined the man's body acted and truthfully he wished Snape was thinking about the things Harry thought about; about them together, about what would or could happen to them; maybe when it was all over, maybe when Voldemort was finally destroyed…

"Maybe he won't keep everything to himself for long," Hermione said lightly. "Maybe he's just waiting…"

"For what?" Harry signed.

"I don't know, I'm not Snape," Hermione said and laughed gently and continued writing.

Harry snickered silently and then yawned, closing his eyes. It really was nice to have someone to talk to about it all.

"Harry," Hermione called gently.

Harry opened his eyes.

"Don't stress over it though," Hermione said and her brown eyes were strict. "You need to stay away from stress, so you better not be worrying about him right now."

Harry felt the tingle of heat itch at his cheeks as he looked down at his hands that were upon the cushion, his finger picking at the sewn in button. He glanced up at her and she was still staring at him.

"You know Ron is a git, right?" Harry signed.

It brought a tentative smile to her face but Harry could still see the annoyance in her eyes and the nervousness.

"If you want me to talk to him…" Harry signed and was glad he was making an effort at the problem he had known would come up eventually.

"_No_," Hermione said in a whisper, her eyes narrowing.

"You can't expect him to…" Harry began to sign.

"Well I _do_," Hermione said in a strong tone, a blush playing about her cheeks.

Harry gave up after that and waited, his legs swinging lazily still and then falling to rest and he could feel sleep taking him and he just wanted to sleep the day away, to get rid of it as if it meant nothing because Snape wasn't here but Hermione had said they should go to lunch so they did. They sat across from each other once again, Hermione glancing here and there at Ron who was sitting with Lavender. Harry paid little attention to his soup and sandwich and nibbled on some apple slices. His appetite had dwindled like it had at breakfast.

After lunch Harry headed with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team out on to the grounds and to the locker rooms. The winds had died down and the sky was clear albeit for the a few patches of clouds but was cold out. Harry changed into his uniform as Ron was quiet next to him, tying his shin guards. Harry rolled his eyes and gave the boy a light punch to his arm. Ron almost flinched but looked to Harry and he caught the displeasure in the boy's eyes that Ron was trying to hide.

"What?" Ron asked flatly.

"What's up with you and Lavender?" Harry signed. It was the only question he would ask the boy because Hermione's trust was important to him.

"What do you mean?" Ron said. "We're just…friends."

"Fine," Harry signed and Ron looked as if he were going to ask Harry something, something he wouldn't want to answer so he stood quickly and grabbed up his Firebolt and headed out to the pitch and Ginny had caught up to him, the brisk wind blowing her ponytail back as she smiled at him.

"Hey Harry," she said happily.

"Hi," Harry waved at her shortly.

"How are you?" she breathed out and Harry realized how fast he was walking and slowed down his pace.

"Fine…what about you?" Harry signed.

"I'm alright…" she answered.

"You and Dean…you're doing ok?" Harry signed. The wind blew back his bangs and was cold through his hair.

"Yeah…" Ginny said quickly.

"Good…" Harry signed and looked forward once again.

"Hey," Ginny said. "How come you don't have a girlfriend, Harry?"

Harry looked at her quickly and he had stopped walking. He rested his Firebolt against his shoulder and waited for her to say something else. She had stopped as well, standing before him, reminding Harry that she was taller than him.

"It's just…I've seen lots of girls ask you out, are you just not interested or…" Ginny said and she was eyeing him confidently.

"I guess…I'm just not sure if I like them…I mean…" Harry signed and his heartbeat had sped up justly. "It's not a race you know?"

"Sure, I can understand that," Ginny smiled and started off toward the pitch again.

Harry waited for a second just as Ron was by his side suddenly.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

"Nothing…it doesn't matter," Harry signed and grabbed his Firebolt and hurried up the steep slope of the hill.

To Harry's relief practice had gone by in a blur although it had been very tiring. Katie Bell had them doing many drills and practicing out her well drawn up plays. By the time they were done Harry was flushed in the face, his leg hurt from when he had collided with Ginny during one of their drills, and he had been dizzy from dodging bludgers and chasing down the Golden Snitch. He took his time in the shower, noticing the bruise that was forming on the back of his leg and then dressed and headed back to the castle with Ginny and Ron for dinner.

After managing to eat a good amount of his chicken and potatoes he had been ready to go back to the common room to sit by the fire and perhaps study however as he had sat there at the table listening to the chatter throughout the Great Hall Professor McGonagall had walked up to him.

"Hello Potter," McGonagall greeted.

Harry gave her a questioning look.

"You are to serve your last night's worth of detention with me seeing as how Professor Snape is…absent this evening," she said lightly.

Harry's heart sank as he quickly calculated the days in his head and it was indeed the last day of his two weeks of detention and he had started to believe that she would give him some sort of break considering he had been under a deadly curse only days ago but he should hardly expect such a thing from Professor McGonagall.

He got up from the table reluctantly and followed her all the way to the Transfiguration classroom. As he walked he thought of how he hadn't really served an actual detention these past two weeks considering who they were with but now he felt miserable as he knew the night would take longer to end now because of this. And surely enough, with a chipper attitude, McGonagall had him grading exam after exam, 1st Years through 4th Years. His bottom had gone numb and his brain as he sat at a desk at the front listening to Professor McGonagall's scratching quill as she was grading essays.

He fidgeted for the umpteenth in the chair as he marked the grade at the top of one 3rd Year Ravenclaw named Ruby Heatherton. His eyes itched with tiredness, his shoulders hurt, his lower back was sore; he kept brushing his bruised leg against the chair's own leg and wincing. It was so aggravating even if he realized he deserved the punishment and it wasn't anywhere near what Umbridge had put him through obviously. It wasn't the detention exactly, it was just the waiting, the worry, all mixing up with the answer key of a. b. c. and d. and the correct words that belonged in "fill in the blank" and what points the students needed to elaborate in the short answer section…it was dizzying, frustrating work and the red from the ink was making Harry's eyes hurt.

"Doing alright there, Potter?" McGonagall asked softly.

The sound of her voice startled him but he nodded shortly.

"You seem anxious," she continued.

Harry felt the sudden heat reach his cheeks. What would she do if she knew? What would she say? How would she act? He couldn't help but wonder, he always wondered; with Ron, Ginny, the rest of the Weasleys, Dumbledore, Remus…

"Well, it's nine thirty, I would say that is long enough, I'll walk you back to your dorm, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said.

Harry got up on weak legs and set the quill down. He followed her out of the classroom. It was very different to walk back during the night with someone else, someone that wasn't Snape. McGonagall was quiet and slower than Snape. She only said a good night to him after she spoke the password and Harry was left to miss the man more so than before. As he fell asleep under warm blankets that night he thought that he would very much like those strong hands to give him another sensual massage and that he just had to wait less than 24 hours to see Snape again.

* * *

Severus wiped his face of the dry dust that stuck to it with his left hand. It was humid where he was but the rains had given in days ago making things dry like the dirt under his boots and the sparse scrublands around him. He had finished extracting the few teeth and some blood from the Indian wolf that was still somewhat sedated; laying down feet from him letting out soft whines, its wet nose twitching. Severus had given it some pain relievers and had done a quick spell to make the teeth grow back. It had been easy work but the wolf had been difficult to track.

He carefully put the teeth and vial of blood of the _Canis indica _in a small part of his bag and brought out his canteen and drank quickly from it. His body felt sluggish, especially in this sort of humid weather. He had mixed his water with a Strengthening Potion and could feel the effects of it working. Severus knew he should leave if the small canine had a pack but he continued to stare out onto the horizon. It was Sunday now where he was; 9:30 in the morning. It was Sunday morning for Harry as well but quite early, the boy should be sleeping still and hopefully not up worrying about him.

Severus was slightly worried if Harry was alright and if he was keeping his promise. He knew the boy was clumsy and always tended to injure himself one way or another. Severus felt very much out of place as he stood there in mostly all black, his traveling cloak heavy on his stiffening shoulders. He watched the Indian wolf (that looked very much like a mangy mutt) get to its wobbly feet and then take off running with unsure bounds through the shrubbery. Severus took out the list of ingredients and was thankful he only had a little over 16 hours left.

* * *

The clouds were drifting by with the wind; they were huge, towering cumulus clouds that Harry's eyes seemed to be lost in as they had that blanket of perfect blue behind them. The air was chilled and the grass underneath him was too but lying down like this with his breath so calm, it was almost like he was flying through those clouds that his eyes were so attracted to. They reminded him of the sky that was the background to Snape when he had first kissed him, how well those rich black eyes stood out against the blue sky, dark and whole, real and so very still; black pools unmoving, swallowing him up so easily as if the sky right now was doing such a thing. It made the loneliness he felt ache even more.

This Sunday afternoon was wavering past at a snail's pace no matter how much he wanted it to race by. He was out on the castle grounds, lying in the grass on his back a little ways from the shade of the beech tree as Hermione was sitting underneath it studying and rewriting her Charms essay which Harry had finished that morning even if he hadn't the energy or patience for it. He had been thrown into a memory that morning when he had dressed after his shower.

He had picked the same shirt that he had worn the day Snape had lost it in his room and he had remembered exactly where the blood stains had been even though the shirt was spick-and-span now but he had chosen to wear gray jeans and his gray trainers and a charcoal gray long sleeve button up collared shirt over it. He had his dark blue jumper on to keep himself warm but his cheeks and nose were red from the cold as his hands were in his jumper's pockets. Wearing the shirt he had worn on that day made him feel a bit at ease, lessened his worries, but he didn't know why.

His eyes traveled up as his head titled back, his scalp feeling the blades of grass, his nose filled with the scent of earth, the lake's water and autumn air. He watched the changing leaves sway, listened to the sound they made and it almost tickled his chest and they went farther to stare at Hermione as she was upside down to his eyes. Her hair was waved again, a part of it tied back with a little brown clip. She wore a dark gray coat with fine black buttons over a white blouse and dark jeans. Her knees were up, her notebook propped against her thighs, her short light brown boots upon the dirt and grass. Harry smiled as he could see that around her neck was the scarf Ron had gotten her for her birthday. It was knitted, an off white with a light pink star stitched pattern and tassels at the end.

Harry's eyes returned to the clouds and he sighed silently. He asked himself for the thousandth time what was Snape doing now and it was starting to annoy him. He turned his head down to the side as he heard footsteps across the ground and it was Ron walking toward them. His hands were settled deep into his brown jacket's pockets. The jacket was zipped up all the way. There was a hole in the knee of Ron's jeans and his white trainer clad foot kicked at nothing as he made his way over to the beech tree.

Harry watched the boy pass him, give him a glance and then sit down only two feet from Hermione. Harry didn't really question why his ginger haired friend had come over to them but he could tell from Ron's expression he was still in a bad mood. He wondered if he had seen Ginny and Dean together again, perhaps snogging or if he was still convinced that Harry and Hermione were having something together behind his back. Harry turned his eyes back to the sky and his left hand came out from his pocket and to the ground, playing with a blade of grass.

"Did you finish your essay?" Hermione asked suddenly and Harry caught the slight nervous tone in her voice.

"Almost…" Ron muttered.

Harry closed his eyes slowly and his heart felt heavy. It was a long moment before Ron spoke again:

"If you can…do you think you could look it over?"

Harry rolled his eyes as they were still closed.

"Sure…" Hermione said lightly.

Harry smiled softly. He let his thoughts free and they gathered around Snape. He felt a bit different now around Ron and Hermione considering that Hermione knew and Ron did not. It was slightly uncomfortable and it made him feel somewhat guilty but he couldn't tell Ron, who was like a brother to him, who he doubted that he would have the same reaction as Hermione, who he almost believed would stop being his friend, knew that the boy would hate him. It hadn't been so much like that with Hermione when he thought what it would be like if she knew, there had been a lot of doubt there, fear and shame but maybe it was different because she was a girl…

"Harry…do you know why Snape's not here?" Ron asked unexpectedly.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he waited a moment and then turned onto his stomach, the sudden change of position made him feel light headed.

"No," Harry signed. "Why did you think I would know?" Harry guessed the boy just wanted something to talk about, something to bring them back to a normality in their friendship.

"I don't know…" Ron answered after a moment.

Harry narrowed his eyes and noticed the just change in sunlight. He raised himself on his elbows and looked around, spotting a few groups of students here and there, a few innocent 1st Years running about chasing each other, playing with a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product. He folded his arms and lay his head down on them and closed his eyes once again. He listened to Hermione and Ron talk but it was a soft murmur to his ears as his mind was on other things.

He thought about Ms. Gardiner and the previous session he had with her and it only made his chest tighten and brought a dull ache to his head. He knew it was probably something that was serious to his recovery, maybe another big step, but it was so hard to try to do what she had wanted him to do and he didn't want to dare think about it now, it would be too much to worry about and he felt he would need to run somewhere to escape all the worry, all the anxiousness and the grief. He wondered if he really was getting better; he could handle things slightly better now like crowds even though sometimes it would still be hard to breathe and in class he would feel somewhat of that anxiety but it would go away after a few minutes in but his hands still trembled softly and got worse if he was worried or angry.

He lay there wishing for many things; for Snape to be alright, for time to go by faster, for his voice to return, that he wouldn't be apart of the small percent who never recovered, that the future wouldn't always look so grim…An hour or more past as he watched the daylight fade slowly and it got colder and then he was walking back to the castle with Ron and Hermione, his nose a bit stuffy and his eyes itchy. As his body quivered gently while he walked, his cheeks freezing, his heart shuddering, his eyes seeing Professor McGonagall at the front doors making sure the students returned into the castle, he knew he was glad there was only a few hours left and he wished the hardest that Snape would return safely.

* * *

Severus had finished the job by just a few hours ahead of schedule and he stood in the still night on Charles Bridge looking out on the gleaming Vltava River wasting the last hour away. He had grabbed something to eat a while ago but was still hungry and exhausted and he longed to take a rest, to sit by the fireplace and feel the warmth ease into his aching body. He had been to so many places these past two days, had caught many sights, the Egyptian sun, the reflections on the waters in Greenland, the view from Mount Etna, but none of it had been beautiful, none of it had mattered as much as just a quick glance of those eyes, those eyes that told him so much, that held so much that his heart was so full, he could even say he felt more than just human when he looked at them.

And the sight before him now didn't mean anything, it only made him want to think about things that could be, that he wanted to be but they were lost like the mist that formed with every breath he let out, with every minute that faded, with every anticipated second as he waited. He was gone with this love, it had become so painful, but it was a good pain, a divine pain and he didn't understand it and he wouldn't try to. He wanted this love, needed it, he wanted it to grow no matter what it led to, no matter what happened, no matter what moments would come, he couldn't control it. He had become this, he lived in this now, in this love and he would try to treat it with such servitude and gentleness.

If Harry's kindness was endless then his love would be as well; everlasting.

He shuddered out a breath. Fear was creeping into his body. He was so tired and he couldn't keep a composed face as he stood there. Why was this happening? How had this happened? How had he changed so much? How could he hold on to this love? It was killing him it felt, to be so free from the bitterness and hate, the malice and everything ugly. It was too surreal and so very different and strange and it made him breathless but he wouldn't stop this.

He leaned up against the cold stone, the muscles in his legs burned and his shoulders stung with needles of pain but he wanted to feel this, to feel the exhaustion in his eyes and body, to know this sort of tired liveliness, because it was better than being numb, than being drunk or impenetrable, than being nothing. And tears had come to his eyes, burning like fire because his face was cold. He felt like laughing or weeping, he really didn't know but it felt as if he was going mad from everything he felt all at once and he remembered the first day of Harry's therapy, of those words written in chalk, of all those emotions that had lived in that body, that body that he seemed to worship.

His eyes fell over one of the statues upon the old bridge. If he let the emotions free, if he thought about them they were just so unorganized, frantic; he was hungry, exhausted, lonely, angry, hopeful, relieved, confused, anxious, impatient, sore, and he was feeling romantic and that was what made him want to laugh because the sight before him was considered romantic, a sort of fairytale view. He rubbed at his face and he had to tell himself to keep breathing.

He waited as the last seconds ticked by on the timer, clearing his mind, letting all thought go, just staring out onto the calm river, his heart becoming just as calm and then his forearm burned right on time and with a loud crack that filled the area with the sound he vanished.

* * *

Harry had brushed his teeth and was now staring at himself in the mirror in the restroom of the boy's dorm. His heart was racing and he didn't know if Snape was back. The man wasn't at dinner and it was now a little past 9 and he was wide awake, his body full of anticipation, itching with it and he couldn't wait anymore, he couldn't, even if Snape wasn't back yet he couldn't stay still. Snape should be back by now. That was the sentence that kept entering his mind and he wanted to believe it and he was more than desperate but he didn't care.

His dorm was empty as everyone was still down in the common room and he could hear the laughter and chatter through the open door. He knew he shouldn't, he knew he should just wait till morning but it was impossible, he wouldn't last, the reckless streak in him was being fired up and he brought out his Invisibility Cloak and put it over himself. It wasn't past curfew but he didn't want anyone to notice him leaving, he didn't want to be questioned.

Harry hurried down the steps and held his breath as he made his way past his fellow Gryffindors and he was through the portrait hole in a second. He tried not to the rush down the flights of stairs but his heart was pounding. Snape would be back, he had to be, had to be alright. The dungeons were dark as his feet shuffled down the steps and through the passageways he knew all too well now. And he was before Snape's office door, trembling, feeling pathetic but so anxious, worried and his heart was full of such longing that he couldn't bear it and he couldn't believe how badly it hurt.

He knocked harder than he meant to. And he waited, listening to his own breathing, and waited and just when it seemed like he would be terribly and painfully disappointed the heavy door opened and there was Snape and it was as if he had been chasing the man for so long and had finally reached him and his heart felt like it was about to burst and he couldn't control what happened next.

He had tugged the Cloak down so he could reveal his head but he didn't see Snape's expression because he had flung himself forward, embracing the man, crashing into him as if relief and such a happiness had been his springboard. He heard Snape let out a sudden noise, it might have been a grunt and then Harry was falling and Snape was falling, he had lost his footing in that instant and what was vertical went horizontal in a rush of wind and the sound of wisped cloaks.

Then everything was silent. Harry's eyes were shut tight as he was lying on top of the man, his knees hurting from the fall and his heart pounding with a certain fear and embarrassment. His nose was met with a barrage of scents: earth, grass, the outside air, sweat, smoke, and the faint smell of the man's cologne. Harry lifted himself up on his hands and knees shakily and took in the sight of Snape's black eyes and a sudden ringing filled his ears.

Snape's face was composed but those eyes were tired, slightly bloodshot with shadows underneath them and the man's hair was waved and somewhat messy. Snape wore a heavy black traveling cloak and Harry could feel the man had on a thick belt of some sort. Harry realized how hot his face was getting and that he was holding his breath. But Snape was just lying on the stoned floor; those black pools were on Harry's face, staring straight into his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry signed finally. "Did you hit your head?"

"Get off," Snape said but it was barely audible.

Harry did so quickly, the Cloak slipping off him completely and he almost tripped over Snape's leg but he managed to get to his feet.

"Close the door," Snape said.

Harry obeyed, not really knowing if the man was angry with him or annoyed. He shut the door and locked it and then turned to see Snape getting to his feet, fixing his heavy cloak and then his eyes were on Harry. There was something in those eyes, a strain or struggle, Harry couldn't tell and he was worried that Snape would make him leave.

"Come," was all Snape said before he turned and walked toward the door that led to his personal quarters.

Harry hesitated but grabbed up his Cloak and followed the man. Snape didn't stop at the entry way but continued to the sitting room where he took out his wand and flicked it at the fireplace that sprung crackling flames in an instant. The dark room was filled with the bright glow. Harry walked slowly, standing behind the couch and eyeing Snape tentatively.

Snape turned to face him and the man wasn't standing as straight as he always did. And Harry knew he was exhausted.

"I can go…" Harry began to sign as his heart was shaking.

"No…" Snape said. "I apologize…I'm going to take a shower as I am in need of one, just sit…and…wait."

Harry nodded and Snape went off down the hallway. Harry sat gingerly on the couch and even though it had only been two days he had missed it. He bit his lip as he waited in the awkwardness of what had happened. He didn't really understand it but he was embarrassed that he had thrown himself like that on the man who probably wanted nothing more than to just rest. Harry didn't know what the man had been doing but whatever it had been he could tell that it had taken a lot out of Snape.

He heard the faint sounds of the man's shower running and his heart, if it was possible, quickened and he swallowed hard. His cheeks were burning. He took off his jumper, setting it beside him a long with his Cloak and took a breath in. He didn't know what his body was feeling. He was relieved that Snape was alright, exhausted, but fine none-the-less but he still felt that loneliness and he knew he had missed the man horribly, it had been such agony to wait just two days and he hated how desperate it was, how desperate he was just to be with the man, to want to follow him like some dog and he was literally telling himself to s_tay_, to _wait_.

But he couldn't wait anymore. He couldn't stay still. And it was that pull again, that unknown force that brought him to this feet and his heart was banging like a drum in his chest and he walked down the dimly lit hallway. Snape's bedroom door was ajar and he stepped inside slowly. The room was lit, the fire in the lantern-like lamp strong and his eyes fell on the wingback chairs where Snape's clothes had been thrown upon and Harry saw a pair of dusted black work boots on the floor. He took off his own trainers and socks, slipping out of them next to the boots.

He could hear the shower running and the bright glow of the man's restroom could be seen as the door was slightly open. Harry didn't know why he was walking toward it when his brain was telling him to go back to the sitting room and wait but he continued forward, toward the door, his heart pounding so badly he could hear it in his ears. He almost didn't feel like himself when he opened the door and he had stopped breathing when he entered the bathroom.

His eyes could barely take in the fineness of it, the shined granite countertops, the silver, the large white marble and granite tub set away from the shower but his eyes were focused on the shower. It was closed off with a glass door and a dark granite wall. The steam was rising, fogging the glass but Harry could see Snape's form even though it was blurred by the fogged glass. All he could feel was the heat in his face and the cold stone of the floor beneath his feet.

Snape was naked behind that glass door, naked and wet. Harry could make out that Snape was washing his body, the white of the suds visible. Snape was quick about it but Harry could see how broad those shoulders were, the man's long legs, the curve of the man's arse, Snape's flaccid member and it should be wrong that he was looking like this, not caring for the man's privacy but he couldn't turn away and arousal was spreading through his body.

Snape was washing off his body now and Harry was just standing there seeing how the black of the man's hair was so dark in contrast with the white tile and fogged glass.

"If you're just going to stand there perhaps you could get me a towel…"

Snape's voice made him flinch, made him want to die of embarrassment, made him want to run and he felt like an idiot but he moved without feeling his legs to the black cabinet and opened it, grabbing a soft dark blue towel, hesitating with it before walking over to the shower and he felt as if he should shut his eyes as he was so close to the man now, the only thing separating them was the glass door.

And he couldn't really make out how it happened, he just knew it did happen when the glass was gone so quickly but it was just the door opening, and he felt something grab his arm as he dropped the towel to the ground, he felt his feet stumble forward as he was being pulled, and the next moment the spray of hot water was hitting him from above as he gasped silently. He could feel in that instant his hair and clothes becoming soaked, water rushing down his body, tickling his stomach and thighs and legs. And his eyes through the droplets of water upon his glasses caught the clarity of Snape's naked chest and stomach, the muscle, the strong dips of Snape's hips, the darkness of hair below until hands were on him, pushing him hard against the tiled wall.

Then Snape was kissing him, those lips crashing against his own and his eyes were wide as his brain could barely keep up with the speed of it. Snape's tongue forced its way into Harry's mouth and Harry only tasted the heat of it, only felt the man's tongue and the man was kissing him deeply, ravishing him, shaking the breath from his lungs. Snape's hands were feeling him everywhere, rubbing and gripping tightly, a hand brushing harshly through his hair and another pressing against the back of his neck and then Snape's naked body was against his, keeping him against the wall and despite his wet clothes he could feel that he was growing hard. He closed his eyes and it felt like desire was washing down on his body along with the hot shower water.

His back was rubbing against the wet wall, slipping up and down against the slick tile as Snape's hands slid down his chest, his hips and then coming behind his backside, pulling and pressing him against Snape's left thigh. He opened his eyes slowly as the man had quickly began to kiss his neck, biting, his hands filling up Harry's arse. All he could see was skin, Snape's chest and nipples, his ribs as he looked down, looking hazily at the tight muscle, the glisten of the water upon that light skin. He always knew Snape was strong but being able to see the muscle flexing in the man's thighs, in those arms; it kept his eyes moving, searching to take in more regardless that Snape was so close to him.

The man's hand was rubbing quickly against his forming erection, against the soaking wet fabric of his jeans and his clothes were heavy on him now, hot water pouring down his face and his body was so warm and he could smell the scent of the body wash on Snape's skin, the shampoo. Snape was kissing him again, their lips wet from the shower water, dripping and so easily slipping against each other, their faces wet and Harry's eyes blinked quickly as water was getting in them and he was spent for breath and Snape's hands were tugging at his clothes, desperate. Harry could feel the man's aroused member against his stomach.

Snape was rubbing it against him until those strong hands came to the back of his thighs and then Harry was lifted up with such ease, his back sliding upon the wet tile, his hands grabbing on to Snape's shoulders as he wrapped his legs around the man's waist tightly. Snape kissed him greedily and Harry was lost in everything, his ears filled with the sound of the shower, of their frantic kissing.

Snape's lips came away and the man was out of breath, letting it out harshly as his head was bowed, his lips against Harry's ear and Harry was trembling.

"You make me so _impatient_, Harry," Snape said in a hoarse growl.

A shiver went up Harry's spine and his chest was rising and falling quickly, vision wavering, the droplets of water on his glasses were shining with color from the light in the room. He didn't know how to take the man's words but the steam was rising from their bodies and he was already so aroused and in a dizzy confusion of emotions, of need, of eagerness and the pang of longing in his heart and it was as if the water that had soaked him woke up his senses, brought him out of a depressed state, saved him from the worry and all the questions were gone for now.

And so suddenly he was gone from the shower, being carried off into the chill of Snape's bedroom, wet clothes dripping, Snape's naked body dripping, and then he was falling quickly, landing upon man's bed, bouncing slightly and he could see Snape naked and Harry's eyes stayed wide as he took in the man's form. Snape was fast as he had climbed on top of Harry, hands grabbing at his over shirt, yanking it and he heard buttons snapping before those hands slid the wet garment off and Snape was kissing him, biting his lip, everything was done in such haste, such speed and Harry could barely follow the movements. His body just followed with everything, being controlled by Snape's dominant strength and his shirt was off in a split second, his glasses going somewhere with it.

Snape let out a quick growl as his hands came to Harry's belt and Harry was panting as he watched; the fire in his cheeks against the cold everywhere else in his body. His jeans were tugged off and Harry winced as the jean's wet fabric grazed his legs. His eyes were left to stare at Snape as the man's black pools were looking down at Harry's dark blue soaked boxers that were painfully heavy against his erect member. His wet hair was dropping water on Harry's stomach.

It seemed like time had slowed down suddenly to him, like a sunrise, as he could see Snape's naked body under the light from the lamp above, the muscles moving in those arms, wrists, that chest muscular and taut, those light nipples were hard, stomach ripped and shaking with the breaths he shuddered out and he wanted to moan when his eyes fell over Snape's lengthy, hard and thick member and the tension in the man's thighs, those shadowed lines that were the outline of the muscle there.

Those hands and fingers moved, pulling at his boxers and Harry saw nothing but black because he shut his eyes tightly, finally aware that Snape really was completely naked and now he was too and he felt his boxers slip passed his feet and the cold air seem to strike him as he was shivering now and there was nothing for a moment as his own hands were gripping at the damp silk sheets. It was different, being utterly naked for Snape to see, for nothing to be left to conceal some part of him and it was like he could feel the man's dark eyes traveling over every part of him, leaving some sort of caressing ghostly touch.

He felt overly embarrassed and absolutely vulnerable, suddenly afraid and wondering what he was doing, not knowing what he was doing and thinking why, why did his body yield to Snape in such a way when he couldn't handle it, couldn't take the heat in his face or the thoughts racing through his head that he wasn't good enough, that he was an idiot and clumsy and so inadequate. He opened his eyes and they were streaming with light and then Snape was kissing him, a warm hand coming behind his head, the other trailing up his thigh and hip, sliding against his side, his ribs and then back down, fingers tangled in his wet hair, that hand now caressing his inner thigh, massaging it.

It was too much pleasure and his body was drowning in it, in the feelings those hands gave him as if they sent buzzing electricity through his bones, cooling heat through his skin, and he let out a gasped moan as Snape's hand was cupping his genitals, rubbing there and then stroking his member slowly and Harry wanted to thrust his hips up to match the man's movement but he was petrified, so still even though he desired to touch Snape's body, to feel the exposed skin.

They were nude together and he kept thinking it over and over in his head and it was crazy but there was such passion in Snape's kissing, that impatient excitement that he could feel through the man's skin. Snape's hand came away from his member; his lips parted from Harry's bruised and shined ones. The hand came away from under his head and then they were set firmly above Harry's shoulders, lifting Snape up somewhat, and he could feel the weight of the man as he has sat with his thighs spread, legs underneath him, and he gasped when Snape's erect member was touching his own.

And then the man was moving, forward and back, a slow motion as Harry's body tensed. Their hard erections were rubbing against one another, creating a hot friction. It was pleasurable but there was a slight pain because their skin there had dried mostly from the cold air, only droplets of water left. He bit his lip against the want in his body, the sexual urge to find any sort of relief from the aching hardness in his member. He hadn't realized he had shut his eyes again until he opened them to see that Snape had grabbed up the lotion that had still been on the bedside table from Friday night.

What he was seeing next made him almost wish it was just a dream so the great embarrassment he felt wouldn't be real. Snape had squeezed a good amount of the lotion over Harry's member and it was cold and the bottle was dropped on the bed as Snape began to move again, rubbing their erections together, the lotion warming up from the motion and Harry watched as if hypnotized. Snape's member was much bigger than his own, as if it were mimicking their difference in body size, and it was thick and rock hard, pressing against his own erection, the lotion making that fine lubrication, slippery and hot, coating the skin in it with the white cream and it smeared against Harry's waist as Snape was leaning in, pressing himself closer to Harry's body.

At last he was feeling everything; the nervousness was vanishing, the vulnerable insecurity of it was gone because this felt much more than good even if it was something different again. It wasn't one sided, but the two of them. It was new and very intimate, very exposed but his senses were doused in pleasure and burning arousal, it sprung into his body, taking over, and he felt the wonderful weight of Snape's body, his muscled chest and stomach making his own stomach flutter.

His hands were gripping the sheets and Snape was moving in such a pleasurable rhythm and Harry was letting out the silent moans, one after the other as they came up from the burning need in his erection, his eyes half open and he felt the slick friction, the heat as their genitals were rubbing against each other and Snape was going slow, dragging it out like the breaths he was letting go, shuddered but steady somehow and Harry listened, watched those deep black pools gaze into his own, his lips parted and then Snape was kissing him, gently but deeply, his tongue going far into Harry's mouth and then parting.

Snape was everything Harry wanted to see, he wanted to be under the man, always, to have the shadow of that body cast over his naked form, to give Snape pleasure, to make Snape want these things, to be whatever Snape wanted him to be.

"Harry…" Snape whispered as he had come away slightly, arching his back so his lips were by Harry's right ear. "Being away from you…" a shiver skated across the back of Harry's neck, "it was worse than anything I've ever felt…" Snape let out a breath, a soft moan, teasingly, seductively and Harry shut his eyes tightly. "It was torture…If it had been any longer I would have gone mad…" Snape's right hand was caressing Harry's chest, thumbing his nipple, but he had stopped the slow movement of their rubbing erections. "Do you not see what you do to me…You make me hungry for it, desperate for it, to just touch you…I give in so easily…and you don't even have to try…You just stand there and I'm so far gone I don't know how it's even possible…" Harry's heart was shivering, his body trembling against that whispering velvet voice. It was so soft but it was so strong, entering him as if by force, making him want to cry out and beg for Snape to just move, to satisfy him, to do something so that he could come. "You're not even aware of it, are you? You don't even realize how weak you make me feel…I forget everything that I ever was…It doesn't matter when it's you…" Snape bit his earlobe gently and Harry opened his eyes just barely to watch the light in the lamp above. And he realized, with a pinch of humiliation, if he focused enough, he could get off on that voice alone.

"You don't have to believe me…" Snape whispered and Harry could tell the man was smirking. Snape had begun the motion again, rocking his hips slowly and Harry bit down on his lip, shutting his eyes.

"Did you touch yourself while I was away?" Snape said so lightly, his head rising somewhat.

Harry shook his head no, his cheeks burning.

"Good," Snape said and he came away, raising himself with his hands and took up the bottle again, adding more lotion to their erect members before letting the bottle fall again and coming down to kiss Harry sincerely and Harry moaned mutely into the kiss. Snape's lips left his own.

"You can move too, it'll feel good," the man said gently. "Spread your legs."

Harry did so, his legs sliding against the cool silk, his knees bending and he began to push up with his hips and torso slightly, feeling just how good and satisfying the motion was. Snape came close again, pressing their stomachs together, propping himself on his elbows and his face was hovering over Harry's, he quickened the motion but it still wasn't fast enough and Harry could feel how painful his hard member was, engorged with blood from being so stimulated, the head reddening, the feel of the lotion coating their erections, it was messy but it only aroused him further.

"You should see the expressions you make," Snape whispered. Snape's eyes were so full of that desire, the tired look in them somehow made the man more striking to Harry's eyes. Harry felt Snape's fingertips through his hair. Snape's lips blanketed his own and Harry's hands let go of the sheets, trembling as they placed themselves on the man's sides, lightly and carefully, moving in to the man's chest and Snape let out a pleasured breath, moving to kiss Harry's neck, sucking and biting lightly.

The motion grew faster, harder and Harry's member grew more sensitive as he could feel the sudden pressure building, the heat coiling quickly, his hands gripped the sheets and Snape started to thrust his hips faster, breathing heavier and Harry's gasps were quivering out of him as he tried to match the man's speed, rocking his hips, making their stiff erections slide against each other in such a rhythm, rubbing and creating friction against all the right nerves. He could feel the twitching pulse within it, like a heartbeat against the man's own.

Harry's face was so hot; his damp bangs were brushed back with Snape's right hand as the man was kissing him. He knew he was going to finish, his breathing ragged, his muscles tensing, and he let the weighted feeling of Snape's warm body fill him up, the strength of it, the power in those naked limbs, in those hands. Snape brought himself on his hands, his right hand coming to the side of Harry's face, thumb brushing against his bottom lip, sliding over the shine in that pink and Harry's eyes were needy, lustful but embarrassed, chest rising and falling, back arching, reaching against the pleasure between his legs.

Harry let out a harsh gasp as Snape's right hand came to hold both of their members, doubling the pleasure, the speed, the heat, rubbing and stroking, fingertips pressing against the head of Harry's member. Harry brought his hands up by his head, gripping the silk sheets.

"Keep looking at me," Snape said with that heavy velvet tone, low and laced with pleasure.

Harry kept his eyes on Snape, his vision moving because of the motions of their bodies, the euphoria dripping down on his senses, the height rising, rushing, making him so light headed, eyes lost in the shadowed lines of Snape's body, heart bursting with such fondness, letting the feel of Snape's free hand on his skin be the lifeline to everything in his world, the smell of white citrus seemed to whisk against his soul, and he remembered the dream, of Snape in the ocean waters, the darkness of the clouds, the black of the man's clothes, of those eyes, those calm, knowing, mastering eyes that put such force into his very bones.

And then everything was blown away like a bursting firework in the midnight sky, shattering sparks of colorful light everywhere and he was a fool without a voice, drunk off this pleasure, unsure of everything but believing in it still. His eyes were wide, bluer than a perfectly blue sky, fire burning in his cheeks, his head rearing back and with a silent cry, barely hearing Snape's hard intake of breath, as he came violently.

The harsh spurts of their seed coated Harry's stomach and chest and neck. Harry shut his eyes tightly as he rode out the rest of his orgasm, the movement of their bodies slow, his ragged breath wracking him as his jaw was clenched. He could feel the hot substance upon his skin, smelt it, felt it moving down his stomach. Snape came closer, kissing Harry gently and he was once again beyond embarrassed because of what they had done.

* * *

Harry wrapped a towel around his waist after he had gotten out of the shower and dried off. He looked in the mirror and caught the soft tinge of red still in his cheeks. Snape had done the simple cleaning spell again getting rid of the lotion and come from the silk sheets and off of Harry's body though Snape had taken a long look at Harry before he had got his wand out. Harry had just hurried into the restroom to collect himself and decided to take a shower. He couldn't believe himself and he couldn't believe Snape for what he had done even if Harry had walked in on the man showering. Snape had been so…forward and somewhat rough considering his shirt's buttons.

Harry gathered himself and walked out of the restroom. Snape was sitting upon the bed, dressed in only his sleeping pants that were a black silk and he had Harry's long sleeve shirt in his hands, his wand set upon the bed beside him. Harry walked slowly over to the man and his head was once again filled with questions since he could think clearly now.

"I mended it," Snape said as his head turned to face Harry.

"Thanks…" Harry signed.

Snape stood and placed the shirt atop the rest of Harry's clothes that were folded on the wingback chair. Snape's clothes and those boots were gone. Snape smirked as he walked over to Harry and suddenly the man had removed his towel and it slipped quickly against his waist and Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Can't I enjoy seeing you naked? I've missed you terribly," Snape said lightly.

"You've already made that clear, give me back the towel," Harry signed with narrowed eyes. He shivered. It was still cold in the room.

"No," Snape simply replied as he tossed the towel upon the chair. "Now sit."

Harry gave the man a half-hearted glare before he sat upon the soft bed, his feet leaving the ground.

"I got you something while I was…away," Snape said softly.

Harry felt a blush creep upon his cheeks but he was somewhat confused. Snape had gotten him a gift? He had the time to get him a gift while he was doing something for Voldemort?

"You…didn't need to…" Harry began to sign.

"Close your eyes," Snape said and Harry had been staring into the man's composed expression before he let his eyes fall closed.

He heard a soft noise, a tiny jingle of some sort and then felt the brush of Snape's hands upon the back of his neck and something against his neck, and then something cold fell upon the middle of his upper chest making him shiver. Then Snape's hands came away, his lips blanketing over Harry's and then parting.

"Open them," Snape said.

Harry did so and looked down at the necklace Snape had put around his neck. His fingertips brought up the black leather necklace to get a good look at what hung from it. The shape was barely a rectangle and it was made of silver steel with 3 engraved lines on the back, dark in the metal. It had a weight to it though it was thin but what really kept his eyes on it was what was almost in the center of the piece. It was a small circle of iridescent colored glass, a half bead of it set into metal, creating a faint rainbow effect against his index finger.

"Do you like it?" Snape asked gently.

He had never worn jewelry before and never thought to but whether it was because it attracted his eyes so much or if it was somewhat masculine, or just because Snape had chosen it for him, had taken the time to purchase it, to be thinking of him in such a way, it was only an instant before the necklace had become so very precious to him.

Harry nodded, smiling, eyes timid as he looked up at Snape and then he remembered he was naked and was embarrassed again.

"It suits you," Snape said as he walked around the bed to his preferred side and Harry watched him. Snape got on his bed, leaning back against the pillows and headboard. "Come here."

Harry hesitated, his cheeks burning.

"You can put your boxers on if you must," Snape said with a smirk.

Harry hurried over to his clothes, grabbing up his dark blue boxers that were dry and slipped them on.

"I must admit it is nice to watch you dress," Snape said lightly making Harry stiffen. "Now come here."

Harry made his way slowly over to the bed, climbing on top as Snape dressed down the sheets. He didn't know if the man really expected him to sleep here, he really couldn't, everyone would definitely realize he was gone but as he thought more about it the idea of falling asleep in the man's bed with Snape made him want it.

"Lie down," Snape said gently.

Harry got under the sheets, his heart beating quickly as he was shivering. Snape's hand reached out, grabbing the heavy folded comforter at the end of the bed and he got under the silk sheets as well, bringing the comforter up around his waist. And Snape was on his right side, those strong hands pulling Harry closer to his body. Harry's head rested on the pillows as well as Snape's and they were facing each other.

It was very different, being like this with the man in his bed but it was comfortable and his eyes were lost in Snape's own and he wondered if Snape cared that he wasn't in his dorm right now, that it was past curfew but it didn't seem like it as Snape's left hand was caressing the side of Harry's face slowly. Snape looked tired, those black pools were still.

"How was your weekend?" Snape asked in almost a whisper.

Harry thought about Hermione and how she knew their secret but he wasn't going to tell Snape, not yet anyway, he didn't want to bother the man with it and he didn't want to make the man angry because he had failed to keep their secret between them.

"Sort of awful," Harry signed. "I missed you…" Harry blushed. Snape's hand came away, placing it over Harry's right.

"It was the longest two days of my life," Snape said and moved his head to place a kiss on atop Harry's hand.

"But…it went alright?…I mean…" Harry signed. Even if his signs were a bit difficult to do in this position he knew Snape would understand and read his lips.

"Yes, it was fine," Snape said.

"Where…did you get the necklace?" Harry signed, pointing to the necklace.

"Prague," Snape answered simply.

"Why were you in the Czech Republic?" Harry sighed, his eyebrows moving up.

"I can't say," Snape said and there was something in the man's eyes, a worry of sorts, but Snape came close, lifting himself up somewhat and he kissed Harry with a tenderness that made him shut his eyes slowly, that made him very sleepy. Their body heat was mixing, creating a nice warmth around them. Snape's lips came away.

"Does the bruise on the back of your leg hurt?" Snape asked.

"Not really," Harry signed.

"Quidditch?" Snape suggested.

Harry nodded and nestled the side of his head into the soft pillow more. He was feeling so warm, comfortable and sleepy.

"You have to be more careful," Snape said.

"You didn't get hurt, did you…while you were…gone?" Harry signed.

"No, it was just tiring, that's all," Snape said. "I hope you didn't worry over me."

"I did…" Harry signed. He came closer to the man, moving his body.

"Harry," Snape called softly. "Did you really miss me?"

"Of course I did," Harry signed, his lips moving to those words as his eyes looked away. "I couldn't stop thinking about you…" His heart had started to beat quicker.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked.

It was so silent in the room but for the sound of Snape's voice and Harry's breathing and a slight movement of the bed here or there when Snape would adjust himself or Harry would.

"I don't know…I mean…" Harry signed and he felt the sudden wetness in his eyes, the lump in his throat.

"Harry…" Snape said; the hint of worry evident in the man's voice.

"Sorry…I just…I get scared…I'm scared…" Harry signed and felt a hot tear fall.

"Harry, what is it?" Snape said and he had sat up on his elbows.

"I just…I wish…" Harry signed but he couldn't say what he wanted; it was too painful.

"Harry, it's alright…" Snape whispered.

Harry was looking into those black eyes, falling into them, and he was lost in the scent of Snape's body, of that fine cologne and that shampoo and the heat, the man's very presence, the way they lay together here but it could have been anywhere and how he wanted so badly to speak, to whisper like Snape did, to say the man's name that he was too afraid to even say in his head, too embarrassed and that was silly but he was hopeless.

He wondered if Snape ever loved anyone before but of course he had, he wasn't evil, he was a man, a good man, a gentleman, and of course he had loved before. He didn't know what that kind of love looked like in a person's eyes, but he tried to search for it in Snape's, in those deep black pools and perhaps it could be there, if he hoped for it, if he imagined it, maybe it could be the shine of light in that dark, like the bright moon in the night sky, its light gleaming on a dark lake, it could be that, it could be careful like that…

"Harry…are you alright?" Snape asked softly.

"I don't want this to change…" Harry barely signed but rather came closer to Snape, his lips moving and he tried to hear the words in his head, tried to imagine what they would sound like in the room. "I want to stay with you…to be with you…to make you happy…I just…don't want you to go away…"

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry…" Snape said in that velvet gentleness and he lay down, resting his head against the pillow, his left hand falling over Harry's, holding onto it.

Harry remained still for a moment, closing his eyes, trying to believe in the man's words, trying not to wonder what would happen, trying to forget that there were plenty of things he still didn't know about this man, trying not to think about if Snape loved him, but rather just enjoying what was now, what wasn't changing now, what was here, this night, knowing the waiting was done, that Snape was with him. But he also knew that he couldn't stay here tonight, couldn't risk it.

He opened his eyes and noticed that Snape's eyes were closed and the light from the lamp had dimmed until it was barely there, almost dark and the man's chest was rising and falling calmly. Snape had fallen asleep, his hand holding Harry's still. And he was mesmerized by the sight, by having this chance to witness it, something private about the man, and he wanted this, forever, to live in moments like this one, to be able to watch sleep take Snape away, and they were so close, hands laced together, the warmth between their palms was so real, it was real, it existed, and it was hope, a steadfast hope, perhaps the only thing keeping them together.

He slipped his hand away gently from Snape's and the man did not wake. He dressed in his clothes as silently as he could, his eyes on Snape's sleeping form. Once out of the man's room he rushed to put his jumper on, the light of the fire making his eyes hurt, and he grabbed up his Cloak and headed out of Snape's personal quarters. Under the Invisibility Cloak he walked quickly back up to Gryffindor Tower. He guessed it was past 11 at night.

He waited in the cold corridor before the portrait of the Fat Lady and after a few minutes it opened and there was Hermione. He slipped the Cloak off quickly, making her jump but she let out a sigh of relief and he clambered through the entrance. The common room was deserted, the fire low in the hearth.

They walked up the steps to the where the two staircases were to girls and boys dormitories.

"I told Ron you went to the Hospital Wing because you weren't feeling well," Hermione whispered.

"Thanks…sorry you had to wait up," Harry signed.

"It's alright…" she said in the soft tone, her brown eyes looking over him. "So, is he ok?"

"Yeah…he's fine," Harry signed.

"Well, you should get to bed, I'll see you tomorrow, good night," Hermione said.

"Good night, thanks again," he signed and they headed in opposite directions of the two stairwells.

When he got to his bed he changed into his pajamas quickly, tucking the necklace under his shirt and getting into bed, trying to get warm. He had wished he could have slept in the man's bed, could have stayed but he knew such a thing wasn't possible, well, not now, but maybe one day it wouldn't be a problem, maybe one day it would be a simple routine thing but for now he was left to only dream about it.

* * *

A/N:

Ok, well I was going to add more to this chapter but I realized it would just be longer than the ones I have already written so I left it here for now. I am sorry if it was a bit slow paced and I know a lot didn't happen though its slowly leading up to something big. I hope you enjoyed it and can review if you have the time to let me know what you thought about it, I really appreciate it.

As you may have guessed, I am not following any known potion to the Harry Potter universe, it's just something I've made up on my own and obviously while I didn't explain every ingredient Snape had to find I did want to put a bit of Snape getting the job the Dark Lord gave him done and give a little insight on his thoughts.

I know Snape is sort of acting a bit careless but it will be explained in the next chapter and have a lot to do with further chapters.

I'm sorry if anyone disliked this chapter. I apologize if there are any errors or mistakes. If you catch any don't hesitate to PM or if you have any questions or concerns or complaints.

*To come in the next chapter:A lot of Snape's POV, Hogsmeade, Quidditch, and things get a bit shaken up in Harry's world (but that's not surprising) and much, much more.

**Important: **

I know there are a lot of stories on here being deleted so I'm letting everyone know this now: If my story gets deleted I have posted all the chapters on adultfanfiction. The link to it is on my profile.

My penname is Green_Angel

I hope my story won't be deleted from here but I decided to be prepared if it did. If it does get deleted I do hope no one has a problem with reading it on the other site.


	32. Chapter 31: Hold Back

A/N: Hello there. I would like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I had college midterms these past two weeks as well as projects on top of that.

Also, I make a few time jumps in this chapter, by a couple days here and there like I did in the beginning of this story so I hope that's alright and I wanted to let the readers know so there is no confusion. And I would like to thank everyone for their reviews for the last chapter; they really mean a lot to me and give me a lot of encouragement. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this next chapter:

**I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.**

**Warning: This chapter contains Graphic and Mature Content and M/M. Don't like it, don't read it, thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter 31: Hold Back **

His unfocused vision was met with dancing shined colors of blue and black and the freezing air stung his itchy eyes; he even felt the cold upon his eyelashes. He blinked, taking in the dim light around him, realizing the colors were of his sheets on his bed and there was no one next to him. He blinked again, lips parting, swallowing down the sudden disappointment and recognition of it but it was left to slip down onto his heart, tightening in his chest like the way his muscles felt right now, aching and sore; even his fingertips hurt.

It was a moment before everything that had happened the night before rose over his mind and he was remembering everything; words spoken, the boy's lips moving to those silent words, the lovely silence that surrounded them, everything about Harry's naked body, of how it felt as if he were dreaming because he had been so exhausted; it had all felt so surreal, that it didn't exist, that their bodies couldn't be together in such a way, could feel so connected. It felt as if it were impossible that skin and skin could make his heart surrender, could guide his body in such a way, his hands and how much desire had poured through them to feel, _feel, _to just feel forever.

And he was so entranced by the way the shadow of his own body fell over Harry's, basking the skin in it, covering it like a blanket, lingering, set, steady; he did not know why he loved it so much. He could imagine Harry slipping away in the dark and he knew he had been much too tired to care about common sense, he couldn't think of rules, all he had cared for was wanting to sleep next to him, to give into his pretending, to make it real right then, now, he wanted it now, he was so very impatient but he was awake now, realizing that Harry had done the right thing to leave.

He was awake now and alone and aware.

There was a fire of worry in his mind and his thoughts were much too loud in the silence of the room; it felt like a constant hammering of noise but it kept his eyes open. The Dark Lord did not require his assistance in brewing the mystery potion. This only meant one thing: that Severus was left blindfolded in the dark. He was worried for Harry and lost in the body of emotions that seemed to just attack him without any such warning. It wasn't as if he was falling apart, no, it was just doubt among everything else.

His heart was in a constant battle, a war with _doubt_. He had no true defenses to fight off the feeling. As of now he didn't have that spark of courage, that shield of bravery, that sword of will. He couldn't deny it; doubt had always been right alongside what he felt for the boy. He didn't doubt the great love he had for Harry, no, this sort of love was forever. It was just Harry. He had to admit that he doubted Harry's feelings, that they weren't true. It was painful to know this but he had to be rational with himself even though he hated to rationalize anything between him and the boy.

Harry was broken, his feelings unstable, his mind unsound. He knew this from the very start of summer. He was grieving, he was still lost. He was still silenced. It was the obvious truth and he was afraid of it. He wouldn't hide his own obvious truths but he wished he could hide this doubt. Because this was what doubt did to people; it made them fearful, untrusting, unworthy; it made them second guess their actions, their beliefs, it made faith crumble in on itself, it erased faith completely.

And he was horrible to let doubt in. He was horrible because he didn't have the type of courage to just ask Harry. He had never wanted to be a coward but he had been one plenty of times in his life. He was one now; he couldn't doubt that. He was wretched because when he thought enough about it, when doubt would really sink in, slip past his walls, past the wonderful feelings the boy's eyes gave him, he knew the truths he kept from Harry, chained in a black box, chained up with shame and guilt and regret and old hope and broken whispered desires, of sin, pure burnt sin, and failure and bitter hate and uncontrollable grief.

There were moments when he was with Harry, like last night, when that box would shake, giving him such energy despite how exhausted his bones were, his soul was, and it mixed with arousal and longing to just be so pleasantly rough with the boy, to be so lost in everything, to be so reckless, and he would want to tell Harry everything, to just say it out loud but those eyes, bright, the brightest anything could ever be to his own eyes, those eyes made that box clamp shut, slamming it back into the darkness of his mind, pinning down all rationality, making what was right and honest to do wrong and stupid.

Because how could a person be so perfect even when they were so broken?

There was no coming back from this; even if it was unexplainable, preposterous, complete lunacy, it had happened and Harry had smitten him like a holy angel and he was too greedy and self-centered to do the right thing. He couldn't lose Harry. That was it. There was only one thing to do and that was to wait, wait for Harry to fall in love. And he prayed like a fool that it wasn't so impossible, because if he just kept saying the right words, that were true, if he just kept giving Harry the affection he was so starved for, then he could be the one, things could be possible, a future could be possible.

For now, such a treacherous thing was all he had until his heart was strong enough for confession.

He wasn't ready. He had told himself this so many times already. Or rather it would be a constant whisper in his head while he was with Harry. Perhaps he was just under too much stress, too much worry these past years, these past months, and maybe this was what created the doubt, took away the light, took away reason, plunged his mind into dark possibilities that he wished would never come true.

And if it was wrong to do such things, to justify them with his own gutless reasoning, then he would deal with it, like he had promised, he would fight for them, for Harry in the end. For now, he could only avoid the drowning fear that would threaten his body when he thought about the truth, the confessions. He could leave it be for now.

But doubt would live against the look in Harry's eyes; those kind, eager, curious, innocent eyes; because he had already done the wrong thing to begin with. He had let it all happen even if he hadn't even attempted to stop it. He wouldn't be able to bear it if Harry changed his mind, if he decided he didn't need him in his life, if he decided to cast him away from his side, what if love never entered Harry's heart? If he thought about it he knew he was asking for far too much.

He was a broken man himself; he was hardly anything worth Harry's love, he didn't even know how it was even possible for Harry to see him in the way the boy saw him now; that he was _attracted_ to Severus, that he _envied_ him?

But why should that matter?

They were together still; they had been strong enough to break through the thick hatred that they had built between them; why couldn't love replace it? Why couldn't love exist behind that line?

Severus took in a deep breath, feeling his lungs with the icy air, making his heart and senses come alive. He was done mulling in the noise of his thoughts. He sat up in bed, rolling his stiff shoulders, making the muscles in his back stretch and sting but it felt better. He felt better.

Severus just knew whatever he dug himself into he'd be able to dig himself out.

* * *

Harry tapped his quill against his notebook as he was barely listening to Professor Flitwick's lecture. His head rested on his left hand's palm. His concentration had vanished halfway through his note taking. He felt his eyes travel along the room to see Ron who was sitting next to Lavender in front of him. He could hear Hermione's quill fiercely scratching away next to him. It was difficult not to believe he was one to blame for the rift that had come in-between their friendship with Ron even though he hadn't really done anything to make the boy act like a prat. It was Ron's fault for always assuming the worst of him and that alone had made him angrier than he had expected it to.

It hadn't been a great way to start the day, especially a Monday even though the sky was so deeply blue and the sun was out despite having rain come suddenly during the night. The cold winds had everyone bringing out their scarves and gloves and cloaks with them. Harry had gotten ready early that morning, dressing in his uniform, tucking his necklace secretly under his uniform shirt, and had gone to breakfast with Hermione and Ron as normal routine, well, it would have been if he hadn't been cornered so suddenly by a Gryffindor 5th Year girl.

She had hurried over to him before he could get past the doors of the Great Hall and he backed up against the stoned wall. Her shaky determined hazel eyes had actually scared him. Harry had known what this was even if he hated to accept it. Regardless, he had suffered through it; the blond haired girl had asked so confidently for Harry to be her boyfriend and her sweet perfume seemed to wrap around his body. Her skirt had been too high showing him a bit of skin above her knees and he couldn't deny that her forwardness made a slight heat creep up to his cheeks. Her rosy lips had moved so fast as she spoke, her hands had been on her hips, and she had seemed breathless.

He could tell that Ron and Hermione had stopped to watch as did many other students making their way into the Great Hall. It was easy to know how to answer, he could even swear he was getting used to it, and perhaps he shouldn't have glanced at Hermione with her stern stare before looking back at the girl and rejecting her nervously. He hated to crush the hopefulness that she had been trying to hide in her colorful eyes but she had brushed it off, turning away quickly to rejoin her friends that had been waiting for her.

He had looked to Ron and Hermione and was surprised to see that Ron was glaring at him and Hermione's expression was calm. Ron didn't speak to him once since then. The metal of the necklace had felt heavy and hot on his chest, a reminder he did not need that he was already involved with someone, a secret someone.

Harry bit his lip as he scratched out a sentence he had been trying to write and glanced at Hermione's paper to see if he could follow the lecture still. He gave up and his eyes fell over his own notebook. He didn't understand why girls wouldn't shy away from him knowing who he was; or better yet, be afraid of him. He had seen Snape that morning and let the dark blush come to his face as he was naturally reminded of what had happened the night before. Snape's eyes still looked tired, but better than what they had looked like.

He had seen Snape naked. He had seen his Potions professor naked. His heart still felt like it was stunned, exhausted even for how much it had pounded last night. He averted his eyes to the windows and the sunlight they let in over everyone. He kept thinking about Snape and what it would be like if his voice returned. Snape wanted to hear his voice; the man had said so himself, had said he was waiting. Harry's mind seemed to be lost in a haze even when the bell had rung and he had walked out the doors of the Charms classroom.

It was a harsh shove to his right shoulder that startled him back to attention. His school bag had fallen to the floor and he stood there looking at Malfoy's back as the blond boy was walking away. His heart was racing, eyes slightly widened, hands trembling and a bad sting was left in his shoulder blade.

"Harry," Hermione's voice hit his ears just as abruptly as Malfoy's shove had been. "Are you ok? It's just Malfoy being Malfoy…"

Harry nodded slowly as he bent down to pick up his school bag. He straightened himself and saw Ron walking past them both without a glance.

Lunch had gone by so fast Harry wondered where his head had been when the next thing he knew he was in step with Hermione on their way to the dungeons for Potions. For a small instant he remembered how eager he had been rushing to Snape's office the night before. He glanced at Malfoy whose face was unreadable, hands in his pockets, not talking to his Slytherin classmates.

When Snape had ushered them in the cold dungeon classroom he had been swift to have them all copy down notes that they had missed since they hadn't had class in a week. Snape had chosen to give them a lecture today since class was only an hour and a half long on ingredient properties of the ingredients they had been using this term.

Harry had did his best to listen to the man's in depth explanations however it was difficult to hold on to his concentration when his senses were lost in the rise and fall of that velvet-like voice; the slow rhythm and he was quite sure that his face looked rather slack and mindless. His spacing had gotten so bad to the point where Harry was remembering just what was beneath those black layers over the man. He felt the sudden heat rise into his face and averted his eyes down to burn a gaze upon his notes. What was wrong with him today? Why couldn't he concentrate?

For the last half hour of class they were each assigned a chart and were allowed to work in pairs to determine the correct ingredients given certain characteristics in different boxes. Harry worked with much focus with Hermione and to his relief they were done before the rest of the class. Snape collected their charts to be graded and announced there would be an exam on Wednesday. Harry took his time putting his things back into his school bag as everyone had been dismissed.

As Hermione was the last one to leave he stood and walked slowly over to Snape who was standing at the side of his desk stacking up their charts and setting them upon the desk. Snape turned around to face Harry and those dark pools were enticing.

"Are you feeling alright today, Harry?" Snape asked softly.

"I'm sorry…I should have been…paying attention," Harry signed as his cheeks reddened. "I was spacing out…" He wouldn't dare tell Snape what exactly his mind had been on.

"Has that been happening a lot lately? Like how you were before?" Snape said.

"Sort of…" Harry signed.

Then there was silence and all Harry could see were the images from the night before, those hands that were so powerful stripping him of his wet clothes…

"I apologize…I should have walked you back to your dorm last night…" Snape said in a soft tone.

Harry shook his head gently and signed:

"You were exhausted…I shouldn't even have gone to your office…I mean…not to say that I…"

"I wanted to see you…no matter how exhausted I was…" Snape said gently. "I needed to see you…"

Harry's eyes were on Snape's shined dress shoes and he felt his head nod once, the heat in his face lingered as he was holding the ends of his robes sleeves. His heart was shivering, his lips pressed together.

"I wanted…to stay…to sleep…lying next to you…" Harry signed quickly with trembling hands; his lips moving to the words and they were silent but somehow they echoed in his mind making him feel even more embarrassed. His eyes were on Snape, his vision wavering. "I wanted to…I wish I could have…" He didn't know where he had found this sudden braveness. "I was thinking about it…I couldn't pay attention because all I could think about was last night…" Harry felt almost breathless when he was done. His eyes had retreated back to the ground and he could tell his body was shaking either from the cold in the classroom or from whatever boldness that had swept over his body. Snape could say such things so easily to him, without hesitation and Harry wished he could be like that.

It was startling when Snape's hands had come to hold the sides of his face. They were warm and so were the man's lips as they pressed against his own. It was careful, soft, patient and Harry closed his eyes when Snape parted from the kiss.

"I will see you tonight, Harry," Snape said gently and that was all he said before he picked up their charts and left toward his office door.

Harry had thought the rest of the day would be fine somehow having had a much clearer head now but his luck wasn't so favorable. He had entered the Gryffindor common room with a couple of 4th Years who were returning from their classes and had found Hermione sitting at one of the high tables reading from her Ancient Runes book.

With quick scan of the room he noticed there were a few students hanging about. He also noticed Ron sitting by himself on the sofa before the crackling fire and Ginny and Dean who were sitting together upon a large armchair in a dark corner. They were in a tight embrace and were kissing each other deeply. Harry mentally sighed and chose to sit with Hermione, hanging his book bag and robes upon the chair.

Hermione glanced up at him and then toward Ron and Harry shrugged and took out his Charms notebook ready to copy from Hermione's notes. He had been lost in following the complex way that Hermione organized her color coordinated notes as Hermione was busy reading. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron spring to his feet. Harry turned his head to see the angry look in Ron's face, his fists were clenched.

"Oi!" Ron shouted; his darkening eyes were on Ginny and Dean who broke apart and looked up as did everyone else in the common room that had only a second ago been filled with music and chatter. Harry hated the sudden silence and he dreaded what was about to happen next; what had probably been boiling up these past months in Ron's body was about to erupt.

"What?" Ginny said; her eyes were narrowed.

"Can you find somewhere else to snog my little sister!?" Ron said tightly; his eyes dancing over the both of them.

Dean was looking slightly embarrassed now and all eyes were on Ron who was now red in the face, jaw clenched as he walked around the couch. Harry heard Dean mutter:

"Uh…C'mon Ginny, let's go somewhere else…"

"You go!" Ginny let out and she got to her feet, her long hair swaying. "I want a word with my dear brother!"

Harry's eyes followed Dean as the boy left the common room and then they were on Ron again who hadn't said anything more but was just standing there, his body almost trembling with the anger that Harry knew was coursing through it.

"Let me make this perfectly clear," Ginny said lowly as she walked over to stand before Ron. Harry hadn't seen her look this angry since Ron had admitted that he had read one of Dean's letters. "It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron—"

"Yes it is!" Ron shouted. "Do you think I want people saying my sister's a—"

"A what!?" Ginny snapped and so quickly did she pull out her wand from her robe pocket. "A _what_ exactly? Spit it out, don't be shy!"

Harry had gotten to his feet now instinctively just as Ron took a few steps backward, facing Ginny as if they were in a duel. However, he was silent, glaring at his younger sister, his fists still clenched. Hermione had come away from the table to stand beside Harry.

"Lost your nerve, brother?" Ginny said firmly. "Listen, just because you've never snogged anyone in your life, just because the best kiss you've ever had is from our Auntie Muriel—"

"Shut your mouth!" Ron spat out loudly.

"No!" Ginny yelled. "Not when you go around making it so _obvious _what you want from Lavender, you're a hypocrite and it's _pathetic! _Maybe if you did get some snogging in you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him but couldn't care for it because Ron had pulled out his wand too. Harry's legs moved on their own as they hurried to step swiftly between the two siblings.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron shouted, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry who stood before her with his arms outstretched. "Just because I don't do it in public— !"

And Ginny laughed loudly and mockingly at this as she tried to push Harry out of the way who kept his feet planted though it was difficult.

"Stop it, stop you two," Hermione said in a shaking voice. She had come over to them quickly as did a few other 6th and 7th Year Gryffindors.

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" Ginny shouted and her voice quivered. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

"You—" Ron said through clenched teeth.

A streak of orange light shot out from the tip of Ron's wand and flew under Harry's arm and missed Ginny by inches. Harry didn't know why in the next moment, instead of disarming Ron, he threw himself forward, pushing all of his weight against his best friend who was much taller and stronger than him. If he could have used his words he would have shouted instead; shouted for them to stop this childishness, this useless fighting. But he had settled for force, suddenly angry himself at Ron's behavior, at Ron's anger, at just Ron in general.

However he didn't expect Ron to just drop his wand, grabbing Harry by his arms, forcing him around and throwing him to the floor hard enough that the back of his head smacked against it. His vision was clouded but he knew Ron was on top of him, he knew the boy had grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulling him up swiftly. He heard Hermione and Ginny scream before Ron's fist collided painfully against the side of his face.

"Ron! Stop!" Hermione shouted.

The searing pain had struck him so badly that he forgot everything else. He tasted blood in his mouth and it was like fire was licking at the side of his face. He opened his eyes barely to see Ron whose fist was raised again but it didn't come down. The boy's eyes were wide and Ron was out of breath, face red and dark, locks of his hair sticking to his forehead, his body trembling. Harry had never seen the boy look so angry and something inside him felt a hurt that wasn't physical but he ignored it.

It was Ron's fault, Ron who was blind and inconsiderate and even cruel to think that Harry would sneak around his back, his best friend's back, to be with the girl he was so obviously falling for. And Ginny for being almost cruel to insult him like that no matter if they were brother and sister, no matter who was right or wrong; it was just wrong, just mean…

Harry ripped Ron's hand away from his shirt collar and pushed with all he was worth against Ron's body. Ron responded slowly, getting shakily to his feet and as Harry got to his own feet, dizzyingly, the boy turned and brushed past a stunned looking Ginny and hurried up the stairs to the dormitories.

"Harry…" Ginny said in almost a breathless whisper as she had come over to him. "I'm sorry…it's my fault…" As soon as her hands had touched him he shrugged them off.

"Harry," Hermione called.

Her voice seemed far away, under water, and he was walking fast, hands slamming the portrait door open and he was out onto the corridor, the cold air hitting his body with a striking impact. The pain was a throbbing ache, his fists were clenched so tightly his palms burned and his breathing was harsh. He could hardly see what was in front of him, could hardly tell how his feet were working, hurrying down the many staircases. Everything just seemed to pass him by in quick flashes as if he were falling in and out of where he was, lost in thoughts that hammered at his brain.

They were of Sirius; images that lit up in the pure darkness of his mind, sparking like a struck match. His chest was too tight, he felt too desperate, lost, cold, fragile, but his legs kept moving by memory, an engraved memory and it was like he was drowning, unable to breathe and the taste of blood in his mouth made him want to vomit, and he had felt like a wounded animal running in one last attempt to save its life, running because survival was built in to its very body…

"Harry…"

And that voice was like a hook around his heart, his senses, and those black pools that had worry buried into them made his vision focus and Snape's face seemed to have come out of the shadows under a spotlight and Harry didn't remember going down to the dungeons, didn't remember knocking on the man's office door but he could feel his shaking body now, standing before the man, could feel he was out of breath, could feel the swelling in his face.

He was weak. Those eyes always made him feel so weak, or rather he allowed himself to be weak, to never try to hide from those eyes, to always let himself be overcome.

Harry felt Snape's hand grab his upper arm, felt his feet move as he was pulled into the office and he heard the door shut quickly. Snape's warm fingertips were so gentle under his chin as he lifted up Harry's face. Harry stared in a transfixed sort of way into Snape's eyes; the endless black with that active light sewn in reminding him of midnight streets after a heavy rainfall.

"What happened? Harry?"

Harry was fully aware that he took too much enjoyment from the worry in Snape's quick words. It made him feel guilty, made him think of times where that face was full of nothing but habitual loathing and an anger Harry just could never understand. Snape had sat him by the fire, moving hastily to grab up potion vials and a cloth and Harry's eyes followed the man's movements, reminiscing, floating in the memory only weeks ago when Snape had confessed his feelings.

Snape's face came into view again and Harry concentrated on his heart, on the pounding, the sound of it in his ears instead of the great pain in his face, trying not to think of what it looked like right now to Snape.

"Harry, tell me what happened," Snape said and Harry watched those lips move. "Who did this?"

He felt himself take in a silent, deep breath; taking in the man's cologne, the smell of wood fire, and faint smell of blood.

"Ron…" Harry simply signed the three letters.

Snape's face seem to harden somewhat, those lips pressed together. Then Snape had dipped the cloth into the silver bowl of liquid and Harry winced as the man was carefully dabbing the bruised and swollen area with the cloth that smelt of that strong potion.

"And why would your friend do this to you?" Snape asked simply and he took up a small dark blue vial, handing it to Harry. "Drink." Harry did so, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste and Snape took the glass vial away as soon as he had brought it down.

"We had a row…" Harry signed without looking at Snape. "Or rather…he had a row with his sister…and I wanted to stop it before it got out of hand…he was just angry…"

There was a silence for a moment.

"I won't bother with anymore details…" Snape said in a low tone. "But I'm tired of seeing you injured…"

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed, looking down at his hands. The potion he had taken had made the pain go away almost completely and the fire was warming his body, filling it up with the heat, halting the soft trembling in his muscles.

"Must you always…" Snape began but stopped, letting out a breath.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed again.

Snape didn't respond but only brushed his fingers through Harry's bangs, moving them aside to the left; his hair had grown somewhat, barely, but he could tell that his bangs were longer and he tried not to smile when he realized Snape's hair, despite being washed, was always the same length though he did like how soft it looked, the slight wave in it, or when the wind would pass through it…

"Harry…are you listening?" Snape said but it was with that easy gentleness.

He thought he might have heard Snape speaking before however his voice sounded far off like an echo.

"I don't know what's wrong with me today…I keep spacing out…" Harry signed and glanced at Snape's dress shoes.

"I said the bruising will fade within a few hours and the swelling is already decreasing," Snape said. "Harry…how are you feeling? Tell me, please."

Harry's eyes met Snape's hesitantly.

"I don't know really…" Harry signed and bit his lip softly. "Honest…" he signed when Snape's eyes began to narrow. "Maybe it's stress…"

Harry knew all the worries he had; they were invariable, sticking to the back of his mind, like an annoying itch, although it was more like a stabbing feeling. He knew September was over, knew how long he had been without a voice, knew Voldemort was out there, knew he was stuck in a state of grief, knew guilt ate at his heart when he would wake in the mornings, wake from the empty time of sleep to remember Sirius was gone, dead; how many times would he have to say it to himself? How many times would those words, in whatever unguided order, ring themselves away in his head?

It felt like his soul had been stripped, felt naked, frayed. And he knew he could never go back to the person he was; he would have to build on what he had, grow from it, live and be strong enough to get to that point, whatever point, that would surrender his voice. There was just too much but he was looking at Snape and understanding that when he was with the man, things didn't feel so heavy, so disastrous, so doomed. He didn't know how he could understand it when only months ago if he looked at Snape things would feel very much the opposite.

"Is it me?" Snape spoke the words suddenly.

It had been silent for a while in spite of the crackling flames which was calming Harry's heart.

"You? What do you mean?" Harry signed with a confused expression.

"Have I been…taking things too quickly…between us? Has it been worrying you?" Snape said. His hands were at his sides, his voice was staid and strong, his eyes set hard on Harry. "You are sixteen…perhaps I am being too physical...I know we do not have much time to spend with each other…I am sorry for that…but I'm sure you understand…"

"Stop," Harry signed. "You think…you're the reason I'm stressed?"

"Well…part of the reason, you obviously have other things…" Snape began to state, still holding his gaze upon Harry.

Harry smiled and Snape stopped speaking. He wanted to laugh; he wanted to laugh for many reasons: one, because Snape looked justly surprised at his smile, two, because Ron had hit him, three, because he wanted nothing more but to kiss Snape, and four, because he suddenly felt so much better.

"Haven't I told you before...?" Harry signed, not looking at the man and he could feel the touch of heated color rising in his cheeks. "But I guess it's not really a distraction anymore…When I'm with you…everything feels…right…When I'm with you…I feel right…"

He thought of Sirius again; another image flickering as if against smoke or a fire in the pitch darkness of natured night. His face, when he smiled, took years off of it; that bark of laughter that could lift his spirit no matter what, that was a permanent resonance to his very soul, that had sprung love from a childhood of neglect, of loneliness that could kill, that made his own existence feel just inches more of worth.

"It's like you hold back everything…everything that I would die from otherwise…" Harry signed with a weighted heart. "If you weren't here…I'd be dead…"

It could have been the most blatant thing in the world to admit but he had to tell Snape that, needed to.

"Harry…" Snape began to protest lightly.

"It's true…" Harry didn't sign this but his lips moved to the words that he knew Snape would read easily. "Don't deny it…" He signed. He felt embarrassed and foolish. "What you made me feel…happy, safe, cared-for…I didn't look for it in anyone else…I didn't even try to…"

He knew his own gaze was strong upon the man, he was aware he was holding his breath, aware his heart was shaking. He had lied to this man many times in his years at Hogwarts and was horrible at it; could tell when Snape knew he was lying but that was then, and now he just wanted to speak what was true, even if he couldn't bring himself to tell the man everything he wanted to know, the questions, but maybe sometime soon…

Snape didn't say anything right away. He just stood there, black eyes unreadable but Harry could tell what he had said to Snape was sinking in and somehow he had thought Snape should have known such a thing by now.

"We…can have dinner together," Snape said too softly. "If anyone asks…you can say you were in the Hospital Wing…"

Harry could tell that right now Snape really didn't care if questions arose, if someone would wonder where he was, if someone bothered to question why Snape wasn't at dinner; he didn't have to have dinner in the Great Hall, he could be absent just like Dumbledore, but honestly he knew Snape just wanted them to be with each other even if they didn't have solid alibis, it could happen, even if it was just once; it couldn't hurt.

Harry nodded once and in the next moment he found himself in Snape's kitchen carefully chopping up potatoes, onions and carrots as Snape prepared the meat. Harry had decided on something simple; beef stew. He enjoyed watching Snape cook and breathed in deeply when the aroma of the cooking stew filled the kitchen as the black pot was on the stove. He liked the way Snape added the seasonings, stirring the soup with that carefulness, liked how simple Snape did everything, how refined.

When the stew was done and the salad was served and the rolls were piping hot and buttery they sat down and ate at the table. It was almost 6. Harry loved the way everything tasted, especially the stew, it warmed his body, made him realize how hungry he was and he looked up from his soup bowl often to stare at Snape who ate slow like always and Harry would find himself smiling, find himself thinking of how this setting could be so homely to him, how Snape could treat him with such a tenderness, could treat a meal with such attention and he was happy.

When they were done the dishes were sent away with a flick of Snape's wand. They spent almost an hour on the couch with Harry laying his head upon Snape's lap and he was lost, like many times before, in the comforting feelings as Snape brushed his hand through Harry's hair and he barely heard Snape ask him if he was in any pain and he wasn't. And after a long moment of silence, of Harry staring with half open eyes into the dancing, jumping flames in the hearth, of the shine on the glass table, Snape asked if he would like to go to the bedroom and Harry enjoyed the buzzing shiver that went through his whole body because of that question, the slight tightness that came from somewhere under his ribcage.

Snape led him to his bedroom and it was a bit cold but smelt fresh, like clean linen and Harry couldn't understand how such a smell could send arousal through his body but it had. Nothing was done quickly this time. Snape had been behind Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist slowly and pressing Harry against him for a long moment before Snape started to kiss the back of Harry's neck, so gentle and it tickled but it had felt so good, sending warm sensations through his body.

Harry's body felt much too light when Snape's strong hands began to caress and massage it gently; it was too slow, too careful, too perfect the way the man's hands were on him; the attention was studied, calculated, those hands made him feel everything he wanted to feel and much more. Harry didn't know why he wanted to let those hands control him, desired it fully, craved it. It was just the way those hands moved, the difference in weight they would press upon his body, lightly over his arms, heavier against the back of his thighs, heavier still against his stomach, heaviest against his chest, rubbing and tracing, and the lightest, the gentlest upon his neck.

He didn't know if he was breathing and the burning heat in his cheeks felt like it was spilling down throughout his whole body, racing soft streams of that special heat over his skin, circling his heart, making his brain foggy, making him think there was no better bliss than this. The man's hands undid his tie and it fell to the floor and his glasses were off in the second following, his Gryffindor sweater came next and he closed his eyes when the woolen fabric brushed against his face and hair, and the cold in the room hardened his nipples that showed through his uniform shirt.

He was just standing there as the man was undressing him. He slipped his shoes off himself without knowing how when Snape slipped off his belt. He hadn't realized he was breathing harder, nervous, Snape always made him feel so intimidated, embarrassed, inadequate, incomparable and Snape was whispering things against his ear, the softest warm wind carrying words that amplified the arousal in his body. It made him feel what the sound of leaves carrying across the ground did to him; as if he were being touched by nature and it was difficult to focus on Snape undressing him and the words he was speaking.

The clear buttons of his shirt were undone one by one, slow, teasingly, and the touch of Snape's fingers over his chest sped up his heart. The shirt was gone now and he was painfully hard and Snape was holding him so close to his body and his own body was trembling against it. Fingertips graced over his chest, over the metal of his necklace, traced over his abdomen, making it shudder and then his trousers were unbuttoned, the zipper came down and Harry didn't realize he had laid his head back upon Snape's chest, waiting, his eyes closed.

They stayed closed as Snape guided his body to bed and he felt himself sit, felt the man take his pants and socks off. When he opened his eyes he was light headed and Snape was taking off his own black overcoat, all those buttons undone; the man slipped off his shoes and Harry watched Snape's face as the man told him to lie down on his back. Harry did so, turning and bringing his legs upon the bed, he lay down, his legs parted somewhat, and stared at his toes, the pillows propping his head and then Snape was on top of him, giving Harry warmth and kissing him deeply, numbing his thoughts, spiking the desire in his very skin.

He shut his eyes tightly when Snape removed his boxers and the man had moved down over his body, and Harry could barely take it when Snape was in-between his legs, spreading them and those hands were under his thighs, bringing them up and the bottom of Harry's bare feet felt the coolness of the silk and he didn't dare see what it looked like, what he looked like with his legs spread like that, his knees up like that, Snape's hands caressing his thighs in such a way, not understanding how his body just complied the way it did, how it could just follow without any kind of resistance.

And his hands gripped the sheets like before, his heart pounding, his eyes unblinking and staring up at the ceiling, his mind flickering, trying to form full sentences in his thoughts but he couldn't, it was impossible and his breath hitched as soon as his erection was taken deep into the man's mouth; there had been nothing before that, just Snape's hands on his thighs, pressing into his skin. He didn't stop the silent moans or the mute gasping or his panted breaths, he didn't know why he let his right hand let go of the sheets to come so delicately over atop of the man's head, brushing his fingertips through those soft black locks, letting them tickle his stomach.

He watched for a long moment as Snape was sucking his member; watched in a daze, saw how hard his nipples were, saw how Snape looked with his eyes closed, heard the noises, slipping, wet, so slick and Harry's chest was rising and falling quickly and colors around him were blurred, the light above was bright, bathing Snape's body in it, over that black and white and his heart was powered by what he saw, what he felt, the rising gloried pleasure that this man was giving him.

It was very timid when it happened, very small and barely audible and he knew fear had been attached to it but he was looking at the man and those eyes opened, that rich black caught the fevered light filled blue and he tried, he tried to say it but nothing came, just the pressure in his throat, the muscles tightening, the pain, the burning in his eyes, and his lips were left unmoving, parted, and he felt the tenseness build up in his chest, and a gentle, warming ache broke in his head and he stared into those eyes and thought the one word instead:

_Severus…_

His head reared back, his eyes were shut tightly, and he came, rushing, hard and breathless. Snape swallowed him, drinking him down quickly. What had happened next Harry had done very clumsily. He had sat up slowly as Snape was sitting on his knees, that light color in his cheeks and his lips dark and Harry got to his knees, reaching out with his hands and his fumbling fingers managed to unbutton Snape's white and perfectly pressed dress shirt. Snape was still, face calm and Harry's eyes did not take themselves away from the man's naked chest as he slipped down the open dress shirt over the man's strong shoulders, his arms, and then the garment was off.

Harry swallowed down his insecurities and the embarrassment and placed his hands over the man's chest, really feeling this time, not lightly, not barely, but really feeling the skin, the muscle, trying his best to mimic the way Snape would touch him, pressing with a weight into that skin, eyes traveling over the man's stomach. All the while Snape was silent and Harry was grateful because surely that voice would make him falter, would chase away his boldness, this braveness. His fingertips brushed against a nipple and Harry shivered and he came close, his breath held, to press his lips to the middle of Snape's chest; soft and he planted kisses in a rising line till the last fell just above the man's heart.

Through his flat palm he could feel the lively beating of it, the heat, the drumming rhythm, thumping, the pace was somewhat fast and Harry brought his hands away, face red with embarrassment, eyes cast down, and it was weird to sign "lie down" to the man, his lips barely moving but Snape did so without speaking and Harry was left to stare at the man lying on his back, black eyes gazing into his own. Harry didn't know if his heart could last much longer; it was thumping furiously in his chest but he got on top of the man, on his hands and knees with the necklace twirling as it hovered inches above the man's chest. He stiffened when Snape's hands began to feel up his arse.

He was naked, he knew that, he was completely naked and those hands were rubbing, caressing his thighs and he tried to focus on what he was doing rather than to be somehow aroused again by those hands. Harry shut his eyes tightly and leaned down and kissed Snape. The kiss deepened in seconds and he knew his body was trembling but he forced his mind to think past that, to not care for the heat in his face.

He kissed Snape's neck gently and sucking a bit harder at one point and he heard Snape take in a breath, felt Snape's hands move up to his waist and Harry came away and he moved as carefully as he could to settle himself between Snape's legs that were spread like his had been. Harry noticed the bulge in the man's slacks and without thinking he placed his right hand over it, rubbing up and down gently, feeling how stiff it felt through the black fabric, feeling how tightly it was constricted.

Harry undid the two buttons and pulled down the zipper and he tugged lightly at the pants while looking at Snape who helped slide them past his waist and he watched as the man's long, hardened member was in perfect view now, erect and ready for what Harry wanted to do.

It took a moment for Harry to get the hang of it again since he had only done it once before but after a few minutes he got used to the new position and was taking Snape's member as far as he could, his right hand wrapped around the thick erection to match his movements, wet with saliva and his left hand was pressed against Snape's inner thigh.

He listened to Snape's breathing, a harsh intake of breath here or there, his name spoken with a heaviness of pleasure, could feel when a muscle in the man's body would tense, could smell Snape's skin, knowing in the back of his mind that it was Snape's member that filled his mouth, Snape's hand that was atop his head now, Snape whose eyes were closed and his hips where giving small thrusts in such a slow way, up then down, not forceful, but it made tears come to Harry's eyes as he had to take the man deeper than before.

When his jaw was burning and sore and his lips were tingling Snape's velvety voice met his ears, a short breathy sentence of impulse, words that put heat at the bottom of his stomach, a pool of arousal that he tried to ignore:

"I'm going to come, Harry…"

Harry's eyes were open halfway, almost squinting as he kept the rhythm, blinking away tears, and he was spent for breath. He could hear his heart in his ears, feel it, he felt dizzy, aroused, embarrassed but he wondered how much Snape liked it, how much it pleased him, wondered if he was as good looking as all those girls thought he was, wondered if Snape thought it, wondered how much he wanted such a thing as this…

The warm liquid hit the back of his throat and he stayed still for that moment, keeping Snape as deep as he could, swallowing down the bitter salty taste, telling himself over and over it was Snape's come, ashamed of how much he liked that, ashamed that he wanted it to happen again, ashamed that he had never thought it was wrong, remembering when he had realized how he had fallen for this man…

* * *

It was almost 9 when Harry opened his eyes. He felt so warm. He was naked still; the heavy black wool comforter of Snape's bed was over him. He had fallen asleep with his body close to Snape's right side, his head atop the man's chest. Snape was awake, shirtless still, holding a thin book before him. Through his blurred vision he could see those black eyes skimming across the pages. Harry let his eyes fall to stare at his right hand that was placed over the man's chest. It felt hot upon the skin.

He could feel Snape's right hand on his side, could feel the slow caressing of fingertips over his skin, the pattern of a circle and Harry felt stunned almost as he lay there. He had known for months now that Snape was capable of kindness, of empathy, of humor and compassion, and he knew he could remember easily when Snape had hated him; those snarky comments, bitter eyes, dark scowls, cold manner, could remember the low dangerous sound of the man's voice, how it felt to feel threatened, to feel targeted.

But he could feel the warmth between them, what they created together, how possible it was now that they fit together and it was easy to care about Snape, easy to get lost when he was with the man, to forget about time, to forget himself completely, who he had been and he had never concentrated so deeply on anything before. He could feel the way Snape's chest rose and fell, could hear the man's faint breathing, could smell their scents together, mixed, becoming one, could feel the way his naked self felt against Snape's body, the shapes under the blanket, and he took it all in, burying it as far as it could go within himself, telling himself it was real.

"Are you alright?" Snape spoke in a low, gentle tone and Harry felt the vibrations of the man's voice against his ear.

Harry nodded and lifted himself gradually from the man's side, sitting up as Snape's hand slipped away from his side.

"I suppose it is time I walk you to your dorm," Snape said.

Harry heard the book close. Snape got up from the bed and Harry did so as well, shivering from having lost the warmth and he dressed in time with Snape who helped Harry with his glasses and tie when he was done. Harry went to the restroom and made sure his hair wasn't messy and his clothes looked right. The bruising in his face was almost gone.

Like always, Snape gave him a kiss before he found himself shivering in response to the cold, dreary dungeons walking along side the man. Snape was silent and all Harry could hear was their footsteps and the sound of Snape's cloak being picked up behind the man. When they arrived before the portrait of the Fat Lady Snape spoke the password and they told each other good night and Snape had told Harry to be careful.

Harry entered the common room and he didn't spot Hermione anywhere among the small group of Gryffindors still hanging out so he went upstairs to the boy's dorms. He didn't know what he felt when he saw Ron sitting up in bed reading a Quidditch magazine. Harry walked over to his four-poster bed and opened his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of gray sweats and a light blue t-shirt. Before he could take a step toward the dorm's restrooms Ron spoke:

"Harry…" His voice was slightly forced, nervous.

Harry turned slowly, leaning somewhat against the wood post. Ron was on his feet, still dressed in his own uniform and Harry could see the light bruising on the boy's knuckles of his right hand.

"Look…mate…I don't know…what happened…" Ron said. His worried expression was mixed with uncertainty and his eyes would look up at Harry's face and then off to the side. "I just…lost it…I didn't mean…"

"Yes you did…" Harry signed after he had set down his sleeping clothes. Harry's face was solemn, his eyes shining from the fire lamps in the dim dorm room.

Ron's eyes broadened a bit.

"No, I didn't mean to hit you, I'd never…" Ron kept going and his voice was becoming strained.

"Yes, you did," Harry signed again.

"Come on, mate, don't…" Ron started, his eyes focused on Harry.

"You meant it, you know you did," Harry signed. "You've probably wanted to do it for a while now…I'm not clueless you know…"

"What's your problem? I was just angry—" Ron's voice grew in volume.

"Stop making excuses…stop being an idiot and be honest with yourself," Harry signed and his heart beat had sped up.

"What—" Ron let out.

Harry shook his head, closing his eyes; this was just making him feel frustrated.

"Just forget it," Harry signed.

"Harry…" Ron said.

Harry grabbed up his sleeping clothes and toiletry bag and headed off to the bathroom where he changed and brushed his teeth and washed his face. He left the restroom just as Neville and Seamus entered and Harry smiled as they greeted him. He folded his uniform and put it away. He ignored Ron as he climbed into bed, bringing the blankets over him. The metal of his necklace was lukewarm and he placed a hand over it and closed his eyes. After a few moments the lamps were doused and darkness fell over the room.

It was the end of September; Sirius had been dead for almost 4 months, he had been mute for almost 4 months, the deep ache in his chest had been there for almost 4 months. So much had happened but he told himself to be patient, to be strong, to believe, to keep doubt away from his heart, to have that faith; he wouldn't lose it again.

And he prayed before he took refuge in sleep that Snape would always be by his side.

* * *

The next few days of the beginning of October past Harry by in a routine way. The only thing different about them was he didn't talk to Ron much. Tuesday was packed with classes, with studying and focusing hard during Defense as Royle had them all in the Great Hall working on elemental defensive spells and Harry had only managed to produce fire from his wand, envious of Hermione who managed ice although she was capable of _speaking _the spells while Harry was not.

He was caught up in homework, pages of reading in his Defense book and studying for Snape's exam, and Transfiguration because McGonagall had announced that there would be an exam that week as well. The weather was dreary as rain clouds had rolled in again and the winds were mercilessly cold. He had actually been proud of himself for staying up late with Hermione that Tuesday night to study.

On Wednesday Harry's session with Ms. Gardiner had been just as awful as the one before. They had been in Dumbledore's office, just the two of them, and had done the same exercise and it had matched his first attempt; whatever Ms. Gardiner was trying to have him do it wasn't working and it felt like it was crushing his very soul. They worked with Occlumency afterward and Harry had said his goodbyes halfheartedly. It wasn't as if he was angry with her but rather with himself and she wasn't really explaining why she was having him do this, as if she wasn't supposed to which confused Harry.

There was hostility between Gryffindor and Slytherin that week because the first Quidditch match of the year was to take place Saturday morning. Harry was used to it however but it was like Malfoy was the most hostile having shoved Harry once again when they had past each other in the corridors.

Snape's exam hadn't been easy to say the least though he knew a lot of the questions, knew his answers were worth an E at most. His determination was paying off during his lessons with Snape in the Room of Requirement. Harry's speed was improving but he was still getting headaches afterward. They had been ending their lessons early however since Harry's detentions had ended and their time with each other had been cut almost in half.

It was during that time that the stress would be lifted; during the moment where Snape had stroked him to completion on the couch after he had undressed Harry quickly, sitting him atop his lap, letting Harry's back rest against his firm chest. Wednesday night Harry had sucked the man off after they had tea and Snape had been sitting in the armchair.

Those deep black pools had looked so enthralling and throughout the past few days Harry had been studying the man's eyes more so than he had before. He didn't really know why but he felt as if he had to catch every single way they could look, every emotion buried under that set composure. It was difficult, almost a struggle to find any flicker of interruption; he thought he might have seen the man looked worried for just a second while he had glanced at Snape during the exam. Snape had been looking over something at his desk, a piece of parchment and the long black feathered quill in his hand seemed to tighten in his hold but then Snape had looked up to take a quick view of the class and Harry had ducked his head, forcing his eyes to pay attention to the next question.

Thursday had been another stressful day of keeping up with his classes. He had felt sleepy all through Herbology but with a great effort and a tad bit of vigor he kept his eyes open, almost glaring at Professor Sprout to focus on her lecture before she had asked for their weekly charts on their Snargaluff Plants.

Professor Royle had them studying mostly historical points in Defense Against the Dark Arts; it was a long lecture of old curses and wizarding duels and torture methods; by the time the class had been over almost everyone was on the edge of their seats. Harry supposed it was just the way the man spoke; that raspy sound in his voice that could change from being so laid back to absolutely serious and deep was uncanny and his young handsome face had an effect on the girls in the classroom. Harry still couldn't figure the man out but he knew he was itching to discover more about Royle and Ms. Gardiner.

Harry was sure he had failed his Transfiguration exam. He had sensed the tension in the room, heard the small groans his fellow classmates let out during the long hour and a half. Hearing Ron's groaning was the worst; it had sounded angry more than anything. Only Hermione had taken the sufferable test in stride; Harry had seen her quill flying across the paper, had seen how quick she circled her answers and he envied her in a good way.

Quidditch practice had been tiring. Katie had them all working twice as hard for the game on Saturday, had them all getting used to being up in the air with each other since half of them were new to the team. Harry, though he tried not to, was growing annoyed with Ginny. All week she had tried to get him alone to talk to him, to apologize for what had happened with Ron, but Harry had kept telling her it was nothing and to leave it alone. Harry really had no idea how to deal with it and he could tell that despite her being with Dean Thomas, she was beginning to fancy him; whatever admiration she had for him throughout the years seemed to have warped into an attraction.

He had a few more encounters with other girls who asked him out; around 3 or 4 and Seamus and Neville had joked about it, wondering when a Slytherin would throw herself at him, trying to guess what the count was now, joking that Harry should start a raffle of some sort or trial week of dating with each girl, wondering when a bloke would gather his courage to confess to Harry. It was ridiculous really but Harry had laughed a long with them, feeling the necklace around his neck more than ever during those moments.

That night's lesson he had a duel with Snape who had him running around the Room of Requirement to dodge jinxes and throw back counter jinxes and curses and defensive spells and shields. Harry guessed it was just the left over adrenaline that had them kissing each other deeply before they had a chance to walk back to the man's office. So they had stayed in the Hidden Room, stroking each other on a bed that appeared, neither one caring who had asked for it. Afterward they had made sure to clean up with quick spells and made sure their clothes and hair were neat before exiting the room.

They hadn't talked much throughout the week; only casual conversation, talking about their day or how Harry was feeling and Harry knew it was wrong to avoid talking about his session with the man but he did, only telling the man they had practiced Occlumency again. Harry had not heard from Dumbledore, had not heard anything about the old wizard from Snape, had not brought up Snape's prior mission, had avoided anything personal, had just taken the time, the moments they had, to look at Snape as if trying to make up for the time where he hadn't really tried to see the man.

And Friday had come, a frozen morning where Harry's feet had felt numb and he put on thicker socks. It was a day he spent in the library mostly after he had seen Ron sitting in the common room with Lavender yet again. He did homework with Hermione, actually enjoying the silence around them, the hushed whispers, though there was a group of Third Year girls who kept giggling in a corner and glancing at Harry which Hermione had rolled her eyes in response.

After his lesson with Snape where the man had told him his focus was improving they had tea together and these lemon tea cakes that Snape had brought out which Harry found delicious and then they had spent time at the piano, Snape playing quicker pieces that had more of a lift to them, that had Harry tapping his foot and nodding his head, that had Snape smiling so slightly; Harry was still waiting for the man to really smile, waiting for a laugh, wondering what he would have to do to make the man laugh.

There were a lot of scrolls folded up and many stacks of parchment on Snape's workbench in his private lab. Harry wondered what it was; maybe just research. He knew Snape often worked on potions to restock the Hospital Wing with and the classroom and his personal storage room but he didn't think Snape needed notes for potions he made all the time. He didn't ask about it though. They had only kissed that night and sat close to each other, Harry resting his head on the man's chest.

Harry had been staring at the empty tea cups, the gold lining bright against the background of the crackling flames. These cups were slightly square tonight with dark red roses painted on the white china. There was one tea cake left, the lemon jelly almost glowing from the light. He had felt so relaxed, his shoes off, his knees against him, his Gryffindor cardigan keeping the warmth around his chest, his fingers laced together around his ankles. Snape was quietly reading, Harry would hear him turn a page after half a minute or so; the man read so fast…

"Who will you cheer for?" Harry signed suddenly with a soft smile as he turned to face Snape.

Snape had caught it out of the corner of his eyes; Harry knew Snape always had some of his attention on Harry when they weren't necessarily looking at each other.

"I do not cheer, Harry," Snape said in that velvety tone.

"You know what I mean," Harry signed.

Snape only stared at him with those tranquil eyes as he still held his book open with both of his hands. Harry's eyes glanced over the taut white collar. Harry turned to face the man better, bringing his legs underneath him to sit on his knees.

"So you're telling me you don't have it out for Gryffindor anymore?" Harry signed.

"I have never…" Snape began but Harry narrowed his eyes, remembering all the point deductions, remembering just how much Snape had favored his House, the looks he would put on when Gryffindor was victorious over anything, when Harry was victorious of anything. However, that was in the past, before Snape had changed, before Voldemort had returned, before Sirius had died. Snape didn't cling to such things anymore, didn't hate Harry anymore. But still, he wanted to know who Snape really wanted to win even if Harry was unsure how well he would actually be capable of playing tomorrow, how much his competitive spirit had dwindled since he had lost Sirius.

"I am not going to worry over who wins, I will worry over your well being," Snape said.

"I'm not clumsy when I'm flying," Harry signed in his defense.

"I know that," Snape said. "What I mean is you have no control over how others will act around you, especially when people can become overly competitive, like yourself."

"I'll be alright," Harry signed. "I might even impress you for the first time ever."

The man sighed lightly, putting on that very calm smile, his eyes shining from the firelight and he shook his head once and before Harry could put on a confused expression Snape leaned towards him, brushing the fingers of his right hand through Harry's bangs.

"You really have no idea," Snape whispered against his lips before he kissed Harry gently.

* * *

The Great Hall that Saturday morning sprung at Harry's eyes in colors of red and gold and green and silver and the loud sounds emitting from it were a mixture of cheers and hand pounding from the Gryffindor table and boos and hisses from Slytherin. Harry smiled brightly at Luna Lovegood who was sitting at the Gryffindor Table next to Cho Chang. Luna was wearing her lion top hat and Cho had a Gryffindor flag painted on her right cheek.

Every Gryffindor was clad in their uniform scarves, Gryffindor t-shirts under their coats and jumpers, faces painted, and red and gold flags in their hands. Harry sat down amongst his team: Katie Bell, Jimmy Peakes, Ritchie Coote, Demelza Robbins, and Ginny. His eyes found Hermione who was sitting next to Cormac McLaggen. She wore the scarf and mittens that Harry and Ron had given her, a black cotton coat over a Gryffindor t-shirt, jeans, and brown boots. She looked a bit unhappy but Parvarti seemed to by trying to make her laugh.

He hardly heard Seamus and Dean tell him that they were bound to win when Ron had walked in looking very pale and grimacing somewhat at the sight of all the scarlet and gold. The Slytherin table booed and hissed the loudest when they spotted Ron. Harry found Malfoy, whose face was shadowed, his eyes meeting Harry and glaring at him. Harry glared back and then went back to watching Ron who sat down heavily at the table.

Katie and Demelza did their best to cheer the boy up, to encourage him, to give him confidence and Harry felt a tad guilty at how he had been acting towards the boy the past week. He took a look out the windows that lined the Hall and could see the sky was a crisp blue, wisps of clouds here and there; he hoped the wind wouldn't be too strong.

He glanced up at the Staff table and found Snape who was glowering at Professor Royle who, to Harry's surprise, had a Gryffindor and Slytherin flag painted on both sides of his face. Harry couldn't help but grin at the sight. He ate a light breakfast, a slice of toast with jam, eggs, and juice. He tried to keep up with everyone's conversations and the hyped energy was making him feel anxious.

"Cheer up, Ron!" he heard Lavender Brown almost squeal as she had run up to Ron, her eyes wide and her hands laced together before her. "I know you'll be brilliant!" Her red and gold hair piece was very glittery.

When it was almost time to head out onto the grounds the Staff began to lead the students out of the Great Hall. Professor Dumbledore past the Gryffindor table and caught Harry's stare and smiled at him. The man's hands were gloved and Harry could tell he looked wearier than he had before; it splashed worry in the back of his mind but before he could think on it he felt a warm hand take his.

It was Cho who was smiling at him. Harry's eyes wavered over the gold hairclip she had used to pull her bangs to the side before catching Snape's eyes; the man had been a few feet behind Dumbledore. Those black pools faced forward as soon as Harry blinked. He faced Cho, his breath held, his ears filled with the sound of laughter and loud voices and the chants of "Gryffindor!" and his heart had sped up so suddenly.

"Good luck, Harry," Cho said so softly; her dark brown eyes were lit up somehow. "I'll be cheering for you."

Harry could only nod, could only manage a half smile and in the next moment he was walking across the wet grass in stride with the rest of his teammates, Peakes's hand slapping him on the back, Ritchie Coote's arm slung around his shoulder and Katie was repeating the plays she had been stabbing their brains with during every practice. The winds were mild but freezing and Harry's hands wore the new Quidditch gloves that Tonks had gotten him and they gripped at the end of his jumper's sleeves.

He didn't know what he was feeling but it wasn't a good time to start spacing out again so he collected himself, taking in a deep breath and focusing his mind on the game. They entered the boy's locker room and Harry stood next to Ron as they changed into their Quidditch uniforms. Harry could almost feel how nervous and worried Ron was. He finished tying his uniform boots and stood up, facing Ron and he slapped a hand on the boy's shoulder to get him to pay attention. Ron flinched, clutching at his knee pad as he looked up at Harry.

"Look," Harry signed animatedly. "You'll be fine; just think of it as practice, you're good during practice. Just focus on not letting that Quaffle get past you, forget about everything else. Have a little faith in yourself, have some grit, I know more than anyone that you're capable of that."

He wasn't that great at inspiring people, wasn't the best leader there could be but Ron was his friend, his family, one of the first people to ever be kind to him in his life. He looked at Ron for a moment and some color seemed to have returned to his face. Ron nodded, only a slight trace of anxiousness left in his eyes and Harry closed his locker and went to the broom shed to grab his Firebolt.

In a minute he was in the middle of the small line of his team as they were all walking toward the Quidditch pitch. The wind stung his cheeks and he was getting himself ready in the proper mind set. He hadn't played a match in a while since he had been band the year before but he could already feel how much he wanted to win; he didn't know why but the willingness seemed to jump up to his heart.

When they arrived at the pitch Harry's ears were ringing from how much noise was around the two teams. Half the stadium was a sea of red and gold; the other half green and silver; everyone seemed to be cheering as loud as they could, their feet stomping. He heard the distinctive roar of Luna's lion-topped hat. Harry locked eyes with Malfoy whose expression mirrored the rest of his team: cold and indomitable.

Madame Hooch was in the center of the pitch of dark sand with the large chest that held the Quidditch balls. Harry glanced up at the section where the Staff was seated high but it was too far for him to make out anyone's faces.

"Captains shake hands," Madame Hooch said.

Harry watched Katie step beside the woman and the Slytherin Captain, a tall, burly boy named Urquhart came to stand before her. They shook hands, stiffly. Urquhart's eyes were menacing as he stared down at Katie.

"Mount your brooms!" Hooch called.

In one movement both teams simultaneously mounted their brooms. Harry's heart shivered in anticipation.

"On the whistle! Three, two…one!"

The shriek of the silver whistle sounded and Harry kicked off hard in sync with the rest of the players who soared high into the air. Harry climbed higher than everyone else, feeling the chilled winds rush past his body. His eyes scanned the area for the Golden Snitch. He knew Malfoy was below him. It wasn't long before the commentator's voice hit Harry's ears.

"There they go. Looks like Captain and Chaser Katie Bell has kept Ronald Weasley as Keeper this year despite his patchy performance as Keeper last year. I don't think he as a spark of Wood's talent in him if you ask me; the rest of Gryffindor team might have to play twice as hard to pick up the slack…"

Harry turned swiftly on his broom and squinted to see who was behind the commentator's box. It was a Hufflepuff, Zacharias Smith whom Harry had taken a heavy dislike towards. Harry was about to return his attention back to the pitch but his eyes traveled up to see the Staff.

Ms. Gardiner was sitting with the Staff. Her white coat and red wool scarf stood out and her hair was down and waved. In her white gloved hand she held a Gryffindor flag in which she was waving, the other hand was waving vigorously at Harry as she was smiling brightly, the morning sun making her dark green eyes shine. Harry grinned widely and waved back at her. Professor Royle was seated in the row above her next to Snape.

Harry put his hand back upon his broom, holding it lightly as he hovered in the air; the winds picking up the back of his jersey, his boots placed in the metal foot pedals. Snape was looking at him and Harry thought that the sound around him had gone down a few octaves. Snape wore a dark gray scarf and his black robes. The wind was playing with the dark locks of his hair, giving it that slight wave as it was outlined by the sun and those obsidian eyes stood out amongst everything else. Harry's eyes didn't want to look away until:

"Oh, here comes Slytherin's first attempt to score, it's Urquhart streaking down the pitch and—"

Harry's heart gave a jolt, his stomach tightening as he looked over to where Ron was.

"And that's ten points to Slytherin!"

Harry gripped his broom handle as he had watched Ron miss the Quaffle by inches. He soared over to Gryffindor's goal posts as the Slytherins in the stands cheered and whistled. Harry was above Ron who looked up at him, his face apprehensive, almost scared.

"It's ok," Harry signed. "Just focus." Harry took off, soaring higher and his eyes found Malfoy who was making zigzags across the pitch.

Harry dived lower; passing Ginny who had just stole the Quaffle from Slytherin and was heading toward their Keeper. Harry turned just as the girl scored and the Gryffindors erupted in cheers.

A half an hour had past and Ron seemed to have recovered from his first mishap. He had made some nail biting saves, even knocking the Quaffle away with his helmeted head and Ginny and Katie and Demelza had tallied up 6 goals. Gryffindor was in the lead: 60 to 20 despite Smith's badgering commentary on the Gryffindor team's merits.

Harry's cheeks were numb from the cold and his eyes a bit sore from keeping them open for so long as he had been searching for the tiny gold ball. The Chasers and Beaters and blundgers were just a blur across the field as Harry circled around, dipping low now and again. It was when he had just barely dodged one of Peakes's blundgers that had been aimed at a Slytherin Chaser did he hear someone call at him:

"Getting lonely, Potter?"

Harry glanced down to see Malfoy who was heading toward him. Harry sped away quickly, toward the other end of the pitch just as he heard Slytherin score. Harry looked back, the wind whipping his bangs up, and saw Malfoy who was tailing after him. Harry rolled his eyes and dived down quickly. Malfoy followed him. Harry knew the blond Slytherin was just trying to distract him from finding the Snitch but he turned swiftly, getting away from the boy again and rising high in the air, looking all around, watching Ginny score from the corner of his eye, hearing Smith announce the present score.

"You think you're going to be a mute forever, Potter?" Malfoy had come up beside him, smirking. "Therapy helping at all? Are you coping well? Got a guilty conscience?"

Harry had rounded on Malfoy so quickly the boy almost flinched. Harry had turned swiftly, halting so hard before the blond boy his broom had titled sharply down. His eyes were glaring, piercingly into the boy's shadowed gray ones. His jaw was tight. Slytherin scored again. A glint of gold was caught in the sun and Harry reacted automatically, diving under Malfoy and soaring with such speed, the wind hissing past his ears, his eyes watering. Malfoy was behind him in a second and the Golden Snitch was zooming past, curving as it turned at the corner of the pitch.

Harry and Malfoy were neck in neck, flying with intense speed as they chased the golden winged ball that was creating quick serpentine patterns through the air. Harry kept his eyes on the Snitch as he tried to push his Firebolt to go faster. The stadium was a sea of people on their feet, cheering and crying out to both Harry and Malfoy. The Snitch was turning right again, streaking high just above the stadium section of Gryffindors. Harry caught Luna's hat in his peripherals, could feel how close Malfoy was to him, saw the flashes of scarlet and gold streak below him and just as the Snitch seemed to go into hyper drive Malfoy had gotten feet away to Harry's right and then, before Harry could react, the boy's side hammered into him.

It happened so fast and he guessed he would have stayed on his broom if he had seen it coming, could have braced himself for it but instead he had flung hard, sideways through the air, his left hand stripped away from the broom handle, his body uplifted because of the speed he was going at. The next thing he knew besides hearing screaming in his left ear was the pain from the sudden harsh collision into the stands.

He had been thrown into the stands, almost landing atop a shocked 3rd Year Gryffindor. It would have been better to have landed on her, to have had some sort of cushioning but instead he had lost his broom, his side crashing into the wood. He heard a cracking noise, his head slammed against the hard surface of the row of wood. When his body settled and the stadium around him was full of noise and booing he didn't have time to check how badly he was hurt, all he knew was that his body was still capable of movement and that he wanted to kill Malfoy.

Harry managed to free his leg from under a seat and he got to his knees and looked up in a daze, the sun glaring. His left lens of his glasses was cracked. He felt the warmness of blood dripping down the side of his face. He saw Malfoy soaring up in the air but the Snitch was many feet away. Harry looked around for his broom, his left arm burning, an unbelievable amount of pain stabbing at his side and he could barely breathe.

And then his Firebolt was placed in his hands as he stood up shakily and then he mounted it and with a desperate kick of his right leg he was airborne again. It was crazy but he wasn't about to let Malfoy get away for playing dirty and he was somehow flying faster than he had ever flown before and the adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he caught up to Malfoy in seconds just as the Golden Snitch made a sharp dive toward the pitch.

It hurt, hurt beyond reason, to make such a nosedive down and he knew he had broken a rib or two or three and his vision was blurred, his eyes tearful, his hands stinging and grazed, his arm burning, but he was diving, diving furiously, dangerously and Malfoy couldn't match his speed, wasn't daring enough to dive at such speed toward the ground but Harry had done this before, was known for being quite reckless, hardly cared at this point if he suffered another broken bone, his thought process only linked to the golden blur of a thing below him.

Then his right arm was outstretched, his gloved hand spread, the sand was getting closer and closer, the sound around him was gone, his heart was shattering in his chest, his breath wasn't there, and then the grooved metal was clasped in his hand and he pulled his Firebolt up with as much strength as he could gather, the pain was blinding and then he slowed the broom down, went upside down and let his body fall the foot of space to the cold ground below.

He coughed just as the sound around him erupted, deafening, and he heard their screams and cheers and the pounding of their feet and Smith announcing half heartedly that Gryffindor had won but it was drowned out easily. Harry thought it best he shouldn't move since he had broken ribs and it was nice to just stare up at the sky and he felt the Snitch in his hand, struggling to free itself from his hold.

He had felt very alive during that dive, almost weightless regardless of the fiery pain in his left side. He closed his eyes, his head ached and then there were people around him, Madame Hooch had helped him to his feet, he felt himself shake his head when she asked if he needed a stretcher, felt numb on his legs as he was escorted to the Hospital Wing.

It was a quick visit and Harry was thankful that his ribs had been mended and the deep gash on the side of his head was patched up, his glasses repaired. He had broken 2 ribs, had bruised his left arm and leg horribly, but he left the Wing only after 30 minutes of being there. His cheeks were wind burned, his hair was messy, he felt like laughing when he remembered the stunned faces of the people around him when he had hit the stands, and Hermione had met him halfway as she had been delayed by the crowds of students all heading back toward the castle.

Harry walked, smiling with Hermione whose cheeks were also red. He had hoped that because of their uplifted spirits and because Ron had saved so many goals that morning that their friendship would be mended. Ron hadn't spoken to Hermione at all the past week and it had of course left Harry feeling like there had been something missing. But his hopes were shattered.

A party was being thrown in the Gryffindor common room. Harry had been met with a barrage of shouts and laughter and congratulations. He could barely hear the questions they were trying to ask him about his fall as he attempted to make his way through the crowd. There was loud music playing and people cheering and singing and passing around open Butterbeer bottles and sweets. Seamus and Neville were holding up a long Gryffindor banner. Harry spotted Ron atop Jimmy and Ritchie's shoulders as they had him hoisted up.

The boy was red in the face with excitement, dressed in muggle clothes a long with the rest of the team who had a chance to change. There was red and gold confetti flittering through the air and people had begun to chant Ron's name. Harry and Hermione had pushed their way through the crowd, Harry trying to keep Romilda Vane from latching herself to his side, trying not to grimace at her overjoyed, make up done face.

It was then that Ron had jumped down, out of breath and Lavender Brown threw her arms around the boy and began to kiss him fiercely and Ron followed suit, wrapping his arms around her and as they were locked at the lips the crowd around them exploded in cat calls and whistles and howls. Harry was staring almost wide eyed at the display as Ron and Lavender's hands were all over each other.

Hermione was gone from his side, almost floating away and Harry turned quickly, brushing confetti out of his hair, side stepping Romilda Vane, brushing past more people who were trying to praise him loudly. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stepped outside of the common room. Hermione was nowhere in sight. He searched for her, rushing down the corridor, turning left down another corridor.

She was sitting on top of a desk in the first room he walked by. It was an empty classroom with its shades drawn and the light in the room almost seemed too bright, heavenly bright as it was cast over the many different style desks. Someone had drawn a giant heart on the chalkboard with an arrow through it and it read: John and Heather _Forever. _There were other chalk drawings on the board, some obscene doodles and silly faces.

Her head was down, her curled hair hiding her face but Harry could see the soft hitching in her shoulders, could hear that she was crying quietly and her hands were laced gently together on her lap. Harry had seen the girl cry plenty of times but he knew she had never cried over a broken heart before. His own heart stung as he was looking at her and he was unable to move at first, wondering what he should do, knowing he could never come up with the right words to say to her. All that was playing in his head was that Ron was an idiot and he should have just told the boy that Hermione fancied him.

He walked forward, slowly, his legs were sore and he stopped in front of her. He thought of how kind she was, how smart and witty, how bossy she was, how magnificent, how pretty, how passionate she could be and he thought that perhaps in another world, in another time, if circumstances had been different, if he had met her first, he would have fallen in love with her, had wanted to be with her in that way.

And all he could truly feel was sorry. Even though he couldn't control the way Ron's mind worked or bad timing or girls named Lavender Brown he felt at some sort of fault for what had happened.

He could see the tears falling down her blushed cheeks, could remember the many times he had cried and the way Snape had comforted him. It pained him and he knew they were only teenagers, knew there were much worse things in the world…

He took her hands in his, pulled her to her feet as her head was down, and he brought her to him, and she held onto him tightly, crying on his shoulder, and he knew she could have done her best to hide her drowning heart ache, could have dealt with it with a strong façade but Harry knew that sometimes you just can't hold it in, sometimes you just didn't care, didn't want to even try to ignore it.

"I'm sorry…" she had muttered, sniffing as she came away from him.

It was that moment that Ron had decided to come bursting through the room, laughing and pulling Lavender by the hand and Harry thought for a second he was going to throw one of the desk chairs at the boy.

"Oh…" Ron let out breathlessly as he spotted Ron and Hermione. Harry saw the way his eyes traveled over how he was holding Hermione's hands.

"Oops!" Lavender squeaked, smiling and she backed out of the room and her giggle made Harry's skin crawl.

"Sorry…" Ron muttered in a way that just made Harry yank his wand out of his pants pocket and point it at the boy, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. He knew he couldn't curse Ron but the threat was all he needed to make him leave which the boy did, giving Harry a look before slipping out of the classroom.

It was a while before Hermione had stopped crying and Harry walked back with her to the common room. In his dorm Harry changed out of his Quidditch uniform into dark blue jeans, his long sleeve black cotton shirt and a gray and black fleece hooded jacket and his gray and white trainers. The festivities had died down somewhat but everyone was still talking about what had happened to Harry during the game, wondering how many ribs he did break.

He met up with Hermione who had washed her face and they took a walk to the Great Hall where they found Ms. Gardiner talking with Luna and Cho and a few other Ravenclaws. Harry had almost expected to see Professor Royle but he wasn't around.

Harry spent a few hours talking with Ms. Gardiner and everyone, staying close by Hermione who was silent for most of their conversation. They had eaten lunch and then it was time for Ms. Gardiner to leave. She had congratulated Harry, telling him that she had almost fainted when he had gotten hurt and from the way he had caught the Snitch. He wondered how she had sounded cheering for him.

He spent the rest of the day with Hermione in the library doing more homework. Harry supposed the girl had just wanted to bury herself in books to keep her mind off what had happened. Harry had gone to bed that night, disappointed and somewhat lonesome because he had not been able to see Snape. The joy from winning the game against Slytherin, of once again beating Malfoy, was turning bitter and pointless.

* * *

Severus rubbed at his temples for the umpteenth time that night. It was past midnight and he knew he should sleep but his mind would not let him rest, would not let him cease the mountains of research he had been focusing on the entire week. He had been studying the ingredients that had been on the list thoroughly, trying to figure out any single connection they could have to a possible potion, or potions but everything he had come up had something absent from its formula or didn't add up entirely.

He kept hitting dead ends, kept having to look over book after book, note page after note page of old research but nothing was working and he was frustrated and tired and annoyed.

But his failed research wasn't truly the reason why he felt aggravated, why he was beginning to feel the heavy weight of guilt over him. It was Harry. Harry who had told him such a thing that shook his very soul, Harry who was doing his best to overcome his timid body and touch him without Severus needing to direct his hands, Harry whose eyes made his legs weak and his self control useless. All of that should have been good signs, should have brought him more happiness than it actually did.

And yet all he could think about, all his mind could scream at him was that there were things he needed to tell Harry, things he should tell Harry, things that he was obligated to tell the boy, that if he were wise, would tell the boy but it was as if he were mute himself this past week. He hated himself for it; for his forwardness, his selfishness, his greed.

It was pathetic.

He sat before his workbench in his private lab, his eyes itching, feeling dizzy from how feverish his thoughts were, how they ate at him, leaving his brain frayed and his heart raw. He couldn't stop focusing on it, he couldn't stop obsessing over it, he couldn't stop the crushing, brutal doubt that felt like shackles on his body, like needles in his skin, like ice in his lungs.

And doubt had teamed up with jealousy.

The fire in his chest was back. He had seen so many girls come up to the boy, so many transiently hopeful girls that would hop in front of Harry, batting their eyelashes, showing off just how good adolescence had been to them. It was ridiculous, it was pitiable how jealous he would become when he would witness it; how he actually felt like cursing the lot of them and at the end of each day he would pour himself a drink feeling like he needed to drown himself in the Black Lake.

And nothing before that had been as agonizing as it was when he had seen that Chang girl take the boy's hand, the girl that had been Harry's first kiss, the girl that the boy had crushed over for the whole of Fourth Year and half of last year; he had seen the memories. The way she had looked at him, smiled at him, _spoke_ to him and it made his heart bang against his chest, made his thoughts turn nasty, made a certain kind of evil swell up in his body, made it such a struggle to keep his composure.

It was maddening, it was wrong, and he couldn't understand it but it kept him up at night, kept the gears turning, made him feel so unlike himself, made him feel as if his own body was a stranger.

He had been jealous, many times in his life, had been possessive, had been a monster and he had hated himself then too.

Severus needed to control himself, needed to focus on other things, more important things like keeping the boy safe, to keep his psyche stable in case he was summoned again, to not draw suspicion; he was aware of that but he couldn't live by it entirely.

Because all he wanted, all he needed, was for those eyes to love him.

He leaned back in his chair, hating how he kept replaying the way Harry's body had crashed into the stadium stands. How the boy had clutched his side in pain, how he had seen the spattered blood on the boy's head, the determination and drive that had got the boy back on his feet, however shakily, and on his broom again, how his eyes couldn't take themselves off the way Harry's body had looked, soaring high into sky, the painted blue surrounding him.

And Severus knew he would never be able to return to the man he once was.

* * *

Harry's eyes were stuck on the article of _The Daily Prophet_. There had been another murder of a muggle family and a few more attacks around the country. Harry crumpled the newspaper up.

"I know how that must worry you, Harry," Ms. Gardiner's voice was soft. "But it's good that you talk about it."

It was early Wednesday morning, October 9th and Harry sat across from Ms. Gardiner in Dumbledore's office. She was dressed in dark blue robes with black high heels, her hair done up in a ponytail, her light lipstick shimmering as she was giving him a sad smile.

Harry placed the paper atop the Headmaster's desk and began to fiddle with the end of his uniform sweater. He did not feel much like talking this morning even though Ms. Gardiner said they should take a break with the exercise that Harry had begun to dread. She had a silver pen in her right hand and a clipboard on her lap as she was making notes. Harry tried not to glance at it to read what she was writing.

It had been a jaded and awful week so far. Not only did he have to deal with the sight of Ron and Lavender glued together and snogging in the common room and corridors but Hermione was not herself at all. The girl seemed depressed and hurt and moody and Harry wondered if their friendship would ever be saved. He honestly did not feel up to dealing with such drama; it was drama, teenage hormonal drama.

Things with Snape had been normal for the most part. The man had seemed distracted on Monday and had made sure the bruises on Harry's body from the Quidditch game were healed up. Harry had asked the man if he was alright and Snape had just answered that he was "busy" and not to think twice on it.

Their lesson on Monday night had gone just the same as any but Tuesday night the man had just taken him to his personal quarters and straight to the bedroom, not saying anything before he had stripped Harry of his robes and uniform. Snape filled his ears with that velvety voice, almost humming out the arousing words as their members had rubbed against each other. To Harry, the man almost seemed too eager, almost emotional which worried him. At one point Snape's voice had even quivered, sounding breathless, those deep pools could have looked desperate or it could have been Harry's imagination and somewhere in him, some part of him had the instinct to comfort the man, to tell him something kind, but he couldn't and all Snape had done when they had finished was hold him and it had been too quiet, so quiet that he heard their hearts pound, heavy, and each beat felt like something was twisting inside his stomach.

And sitting here with the woman he could still feel the way the man's body had felt around him, how strong Snape could hold onto him, the heat of his skin, the breath against his cheek like soft cotton flowers against a summer breeze and Snape had taken his hands, placing them atop his own palms, staring down at them for a long moment.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up quickly, feeling the tingle of heat in his cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Ms. Gardiner asked. Her dark green eyes were on him.

Harry nodded once.

"I know you must feel overwhelmed when you think about…Voldemort," Ms. Gardiner said in a low tone. "Do you feel as if it's a responsibility Harry?"

Harry waited for a moment, replaying the words from the prophecy over in his mind, how it had been Voldemort who had chosen him, how it was because of that demon that he was marked. It was unfair but he was done complaining, done with dwelling over it.

"It feels…more like a burden…but there's nothing I can do to change it," Harry signed. "I try not to think that everything I'm doing now…won't matter because in the end…I'll have to face it no matter what…I don't want to be apathetic about everything in my life because of him…I want to keep living…as much as I can…" Harry's eyes grew pained and he looked down at his shaking hands.

"Don't think that it all falls on you Harry," Ms. Gardiner said. "No matter what people believe in…you have those that will help you Harry, you are not alone in this."

Harry nodded once again and he looked up at her and he realized how much he owed her for all that she had done for him even if it was her job. She was his friend, someone who always wanted him to be real around her, she was the reason that he didn't push it all down in the beginning; she had saved him from that torture.

Ms. Gardiner took her leave after they worked a bit with Occlumency and Harry really was getting the hang of it, being able to block her out quickly and he felt at one point, if he had pushed hard enough, he might have been able to search through the memories that were always on the surface of her mind.

Charms had Harry feeling sleepy that day, doing his best to take notes on Silencing Charms. For the first time ever Hermione seemed to have not have cared much to take many notes or color coordinate them. He had hated the way Lavender would talk to Ron, whispering in his ear, giggling quietly; it made him want to jump in-between them, made him want to throw his text book at the back of Ron's ginger haired head.

* * *

It just wasn't a good day and if he had known what Potions was going to be like that day he wouldn't have bothered showing up to class. He had not seen Hermione at lunch as she had gone off somewhere and when she had returned with her heavy school bag her eyes looked as if they had been crying. They walked in silence to Potions where Snape had let them in and Harry had sat next to the girl as usual.

Snape had them brewing a new potion in_ Advanced Potion Making_. It was a Fire-Protection Potion. It was mildly difficult and they had an hour and a half to brew it. Harry had set to work a long with the rest of the class as Snape was seated at his desk once again reading some sort of parchment. Harry kept his focus as he sliced up the correct amount of his bursting mushrooms.

It was 30 minutes in when it happened. Snape had left the classroom to his office. Harry was stirring his cauldron, making sure the fire wasn't too high and counting the counter-clockwise stirs noiselessly and watching the potion turn the correct shade of green. And then he heard Hermione's small gasp, heard her knife clatter to the floor and the rattle of her scales that pulled him from his concentration.

It was an instant reaction, like most of the reckless things he did, and all he saw was Hermione's cauldron that was bubbling furiously and there was no time to fumble with his wand because the potion had already exploded and Harry had already flung himself over the girl's body to shield her from the bright red boiling mass that looked too much like a volcanic eruption.

They had been thrown to the cold stoned floor, Harry's entire body covering Hermione's as she had let out a scream and Harry had did his best to use his robes to cover her arms. He thought that by now his pain tolerance would have been high however when the boiling hot liquid had splattered all over his body he could have sworn he had gone blind from the pain. He had let out a silent shout and heard the gasping around him, heard the loud bang of the empty, steaming, broken cauldron hitting the floor.

The next thing he knew he was being grabbed, pulled up and his robes had left him and something like ice felt like it was being doused over his body, his skin and he couldn't breathe, his eyes were shut tightly. When he opened them, through the tears, he saw Snape who was holding him up, his wand in his hand and then he turned to see Hermione who was sitting on the ground, eyes wide and tearful as she was trembling, her chest rising and falling quickly.

All around where their bodies had laid, on the workbench and the workbench in front of them, was a substance that looked like hardened molten lava and it was steaming. Harry briefly wondered what Hermione had done to her potion to cause such a reaction.

With a few flicks of Snape's wand the horrible mess was cleaned up, vanishing and there were singe marks in the wood and on the stoned floor. Harry knew he was still in a bit of pain, he knew he had been burnt but whatever Snape had done had numbed it. With another flick of the man's wand everyone else's cauldrons had been wiped clean of their potions.

As soon as Hermione had got slowly to her feet Harry heard Snape shout from behind him:

"Foolish girl! Explain yourself!"

"I…I…the wartcap powder…" Hermione stammered and Harry had never seen her look this afraid in front of their Potions Master.

"It wasn't just that, you botched the whole potion!" Snape spat and Harry flinched. "Were you even making a small attempt to pay attention!? Where is your head Granger!? I have never witnessed such a First Year blunder from a N.E.W.T. level student!" Snape's face was contorted in anger; the light in those bottomless black eyes looked ominous. "Potter has suffered severe burns because of your incapability to put together a few simple ingredients correctly! But I suppose even insufferable know-it-alls can't always manage—"

Harry had stood quickly, coming before Hermione to face Snape. His body hurt and he felt extremely dizzy.

"Leave her alone," Harry signed. "She's not feeling well, it's not her fault."

Snape was glaring down at him and Harry knew he had not seen the man look at him like that in a long time and it made his heart shake.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor. Detention, Saturday, Potter, and Granger," Snape said lowly and tightly. "Everyone out, now!"

There was a shuffle of book bags and the clinking of scales and pestles before the class had filed out of the Potions classroom. Harry stayed as he watched Hermione, whose face was red, pack up her things quickly and hurry out of the room. Harry didn't like the silence that followed, didn't like the pain he was in or how the cold in the room made his bones ache.

Snape had grabbed his hand, pulling him harshly to his office where he began pulling at Harry's uniform, stripping him of his Gryffindor sweater and it was thrown to the floor. Before Snape could get his hands on his shirt collar Harry backed away from the man, out of breath and shivering.

"I have to tend to your burns," Snape snapped harshly and with two strides he was before Harry again, grabbing at his uniform shirt.

"Stop…" Harry signed.

"I have to heal them now!" Snape let out.

"I'll go to the Hospital Wing," Harry signed, clenching his teeth as he tried to strike away the man's hands. It was as if he was panicking, as if he was angry at the man for how angry he had gotten from what happened. He didn't like Snape's anger, he hated it…

"Insufferable boy…" Snape hissed.

Harry was spun around suddenly and bent over the man's desk, his hands pinned behind his back as Snape's left hand held both his wrists together. Harry could hardly lift his head as his eyes scanned over a few ungraded essays and rolled up pieces of parchment on the wooden surface. Harry tried to squirm out of the man's hold but it was useless. His shirt was pulled up, slowly and it felt damp and cold to his skin. He heard Snape let out a breath and then Snape had begun to pull down his pants and his boxers.

Harry struggled, his wrists in pain as he tried to free them from the man's hold.

"Harry, this can be a lot less embarrassing and easier for you if you stop fighting against it," Snape grounded out.

Harry took a deep breath, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to control his emotions, trying to tell himself that it was Snape he was with, the changed Snape, the man that didn't hate him anymore and he had no idea why his brain and body had reacted that way to the man's anger in the classroom, it was as if he had put himself back during the times where he had been the target for the Potion Master's strict and harsh attitude, as if he had forgotten that just last night Snape had kissed him with such a tenderness against his forehead and told him he was stunning…

Harry's body had calmed and Snape let his wrists go and brought him up from the desk to stand up straight. Snape was silent as he took off Harry's button up shirt and Gryffindor tie and Harry slipped off his shoes and let the man take his trousers and boxers as Harry leaned against the desk.

When he was naked Snape had brought over a jar of salve and Harry stood, with his back to the man, his hands on the desk slightly, as the man applied the salve to the areas where Harry had been burned. There were few on his back, the back of his arms, his right shoulder, and the back of his legs. Harry guessed it was because of his robes that he had avoided the worst of the erupting potion. As Harry shivered the salve healed the burns in minutes, leaving only a slight redness to the skin.

"The redness will disappear in an hour or two," Snape said in almost a whisper. The man seemed to have calmed down now and he had begun to pick up Harry's clothes.

"Come...I will mend these and you can rest on the couch…" Snape said.

Harry felt a bit odd as he was naked and walking behind the mind with his arms wrapped around him in an attempt to keep him warm. Snape had gone down the hallway once they were in his personal quarters and Harry sat on the couch, holding his knees up to his chest. The heat from the fire felt nice against his skin.

The man returned moments later with Harry's uniform and it was clean and dry. Harry dressed quickly and Snape went to the kitchen. As Harry was knotting his tie Snape came back with two cups of tea. The man's face looked almost forlorn.

When Snape sat down at the end of the couch Harry did not.

"Why did you get so angry?" Harry signed as the man was looking at him.

Snape closed his eyes; his back resting against the couch and his left hand came up to rub at his temples.

"Because you always throw yourself into danger…without a second thought…" Snape muttered and let out a weighted breath.

"But Hermione would have been…" Harry started to sign.

"I _know_…" Snape said, his eyes closing. "I apologize…I know how you are, I know you don't hesitate to help others…But when you are hurt, Harry…if someone has hurt you…It's as if I lose all reason…" Those black eyes were on him again.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed.

"Don't be…I should have been paying more attention to the class…" Snape said softly.

"I got angry with you…for insulting her…like before with…" Harry signed.

"You have the right to be…I apologize for that as well," Snape said.

"You're tired…" Harry signed. "You look like you haven't slept much…" Harry came over to couch and sat down at the opposite end.

There was silence for a long moment and Harry didn't know what to make of it. He didn't know how Snape was feeling, he didn't know what was wrong and he felt disappointed in himself that he couldn't figure it out. It was a lonely feeling and it scared him; it scared him that Snape's face didn't look so composed at the moment. Snape looked at him and Harry signed:

"You can lie down on me…if you'd like…"

Snape didn't move, didn't say anything and those black eyes were as still as the hot tea was in their cups. Harry held his breath and then the man turned his body and laid his head down upon Harry's lap slowly. Harry couldn't count all the times when he had been in Snape's position, couldn't explain how good it felt to lie on the man's lap and have that hand brush through his hair.

Snape's eyes were closed and his breath was shallow and Harry, carefully, began to brush his fingers through the man's black locks. It was feathery soft and sent jumps of heated shivers through his arm and chest. It was like he was in another world, and they were different people, never having such different pasts, having met in a different way, perhaps he could be older, a man like Snape was, perhaps taller…maybe even a woman with their shimmering glossed lips and dainty hands, with frilled dresses and pink rose colored cheeks, with grace and beauty, a woman who could belong to a man that was Severus Snape…Instead of a mute 16 year old boy, instead of clumsy and short and average and clueless…instead of Harry Potter who this man had once hated with every fiber of his being.

He hadn't noticed there were tears in his eyes until one had fallen down his cheek and he blinked them away, his hand still stroking the man's hair, his lap feeling the weight of Snape's head. He looked down at the man, his breath held once again. Those lashes were so dark; they were wonderful against the man's light skin and those lips unmoving. Harry bent down, closing his eyes just as he blanketed Snape's lips with his own.

He didn't want to be someone else.

He wanted this, nothing less and he accepted their differences without knowing how, without knowing where he had the courage to do such a thing and he was afraid of what would come. What if he wasn't strong enough? What if Snape wouldn't always feel this way about him? What if he wasn't worth it? What if Snape could never love him? What was it like to fall in love?

* * *

The following two days Harry had noticed just how cold the weather was getting. After what had happened in Potions class Hermione had been in very low spirits around him. She had apologized and said she had understood Snape's anger which surprised Harry. He didn't like how sad she looked and a skip of anger would hit his body whenever he saw Ron and Lavender attached at the lips as if there were a permanent sticking charm placed on the couple; and he despised thinking of them as a _couple_.

He himself felt rather melancholy for some reason. He thought by now he would have heard from Dumbledore, that Snape would have said he needed to meet the man in his office again but nothing happened and he was growing too anxious. His voice seemed like a distant memory now and the thought of actually speaking felt foreign to him and he supposed that was what was getting him down. He tried not to catch any articles in _T__he Daily Prophet_, tried to ignore the conversations about Death Eaters and You-Know-Who, tried not to think about much at all.

He had gotten a letter from Mrs. Weasley on Friday and one from Lupin, both saying much of the same thing, asking how he was, how were his sessions going, to keep his chin up and that they hoped he was feeling better. He had written back shortly afterward though he had trouble coming up with the words he wanted to say to them.

He hadn't dreamed in a while which was different though time with Snape had seemed like he really was dreaming. The nights where he was with the man, warm in front the fire or on the man's bed with Snape kissing him, touching him everywhere, seemed as if time didn't exist, made him forget his name, made him think of things he wanted to tell Snape, had wanted to say all along, had him wondering how Snape was doing, what he was truly feeling, had him remembering how the sun felt on his body through the windows of The Fish Bowl, how Snape had looked then in those expensive clothes, how the man had walked the blocks of muggle London, how he had blended in so well, and most of all, knowing how much he missed how simple things seemed then when they weren't at all…

* * *

Saturday morning, October 12th, Harry found himself getting ready for their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. He didn't feel too much like going though he had felt like he had been in the castle too long. He was sort of glad that students would still be allowed to visit the village even with the tight security measures placed around the school. Harry had heard there were Aurors stationed at Hogsmeade.

It was very strange not talking to Ron who seemed to sometimes forget that they weren't on speaking terms and would ask Harry something and Harry would reply naturally and then they would stare at each other and Harry would lower his eyes in annoyance and Ron would look away sheepishly. Harry felt very foolish in response to their behavior and wondered how long he could keep this up but every time he would see a hickey on the boy's neck it just didn't feel normal to him anymore as if his best friend was a different person. He wished he didn't feel that way because if Ron knew who he really was seeing behind his back then he didn't want to imagine the boy reacting in the very same way. But he hated what Ron being with Lavender was doing to Hermione who wasn't herself at all lately.

Harry hoped to make the girl smile today at least since they had decided to go together; it had taken a while to convince Hermione to go but she had said yes in the end. He was alone in his dorm as he dressed in jeans, a dark red long sleeve thermal shirt, a thin black wool jumper and over that he had put on the charcoal gray leather jacket that Bill and Fleur had gotten him. He put on socks and his black trainers before pocketing his wand and small money bag and heading down to the common room.

There was a group of Gryffindors all heading out of the portrait hole to go to breakfast and most looked to be dressed and ready for the harsh stinging winds outside. It had rained the day before and there had been lightning which had put Harry's body on edge last night and it had taken quite a while to fall asleep.

Hermione gave him a nod as she was standing by the entrance, waiting for him. She wore her wool coat and dark skinny jeans with short heeled black lace up ankle boots. Her knitted scarf, however, was a deep purple.

"Morning," Harry signed and they began to walk down to the Great Hall.

They ate breakfast and Harry couldn't help but laugh at how Seamus and Neville were seeing who was faster at signing numbers backward and he was used to them asking him what a word was when they couldn't remember. Harry was slightly amazed at just how much he had learned with the language.

A few minutes later Harry and Hermione were in the crowd of students that were Third Year and above waiting to get through the large front doors of the castle. Filch was standing before them checking off the names of people who had permission to visit the village. Harry had to stand on his tip toes to be able to see the Hogwarts caretaker going over everyone with a Secrecy Sensor before they were permitted to leave.

Harry shivered somewhat as a gust of cold air came through the open doors and heard everyone else react to it as well. He put on his dark gray cotton gloves as Hermione put on the ones he had gotten her. When they were finally at the front doors Harry's eyes followed the long thin Secrecy Sensor as it was passed over his body and then it was Hermione's turn.

Hermione took Harry's hand as they started the walk to Hogsmeade. The clouds in the sky were gray and rolling along the winds and his eyes stung and his cheeks felt numb and his nose felt stuffy as they walked together. Feet in front of them on the road Harry spotted Ron who was walking hand in hand with Lavender; her pink scarf was whipping in the wind and her bright pink rain boots skipped through puddles.

His eyes fell to look upon his hand that held Hermione's. It was warm but he couldn't help but imagine his hand in someone else's, a much larger hand, strong and he would have to look up to see Snape's face if they were walking together like this but none the less he smiled at the way the wind made Hermione's brown hair float softly up in the air, the light curls.

He heard whispers from behind him. A few girls were remarking at the way he and Hermione were holding hands and he let out a sigh creating that white puff of mist before him.

"Should we not hold hands?" Hermione whispered softly and Harry turned his head to look at her but she was still facing forward, her eyes saddened.

Harry couldn't really sign what he wanted to say without letting her hand go so he gave it a small squeeze letting her know he didn't care at all what girls would think and he thought, in the back of his mind as he heard another girl whisper something that was a bit rude, that any bloke would be lucky to be in his place and that Ron was a git…

When they reached Hogsmeade Harry saw that Zonko's Joke Shop was boarded up but he was happy that everywhere else seemed to be doing well in business. Together they spent time in Honeydukes where the shop was warm and smelt of delicious sweets and filled with a lighthearted atmosphere that seemed to mend Harry's melancholic mood and brightened Hermione's eyes.

They each had made too big of a deal over the deluxe sized sugar quills which were new to the store and Harry purchased a few along with treacle fudge. Hermione had a small smile on her face by the time they left the store.

"Wotcher, Harry."

Harry had turned his head quickly to that familiar voice and his eyes were met with Tonks who was walking up to the two of them. Harry noticed her hair wasn't that bubblegum pink anymore; it was a mousy brown which was odd for her. She wore a thick dark brown coat, a dark green scarf, tight black jeans and high boots.

"Hello Tonks," Hermione said somewhat cheerfully.

"How are you?" Tonks asked lightly.

"Fine," Hermione answered and Harry smiled. "So you're working security here?"

"Yup," Tonks said. "So…you two on a little date?"

"Uh…no!" Hermione said quickly. "Just…"

Tonks chuckled softly and said:

"Alright, I was just wondering," Tonks said. "You should get out of the cold. Take care of yourselves, keep your eyes open." She looked from Hermione to Harry and smiled softly and then turned around and began to walk down the cobblestone street.

"Doesn't she seem a bit sad?" Hermione said as they started to walk toward The Three Broomsticks.

Harry nodded.

"I wonder why…" Hermione said and Harry knew it was in place of what she was most likely thinking: "Maybe it's because of Sirius; he was family." Harry didn't take a moment to think over it however, he didn't have it in him to.

When they entered The Three Broomsticks it was packed but it was warm and had Harry's cheeks and nose tingling. There were lamps lit giving the place a bright glow even though it was noon now. Harry and Hermione waited by the entrance as they looked over the area to see if there was an empty table. Most were filled up with many Hogwarts students already and Harry caught the ironic sight of Ginny and Dean snogging at a table in the far back corner and in the opposite corner by a window sat Ron and Lavender who had their own battle of tongues going on with mugs of frothy Butterbeer before them.

Harry's eyes fell over two unoccupied chairs that were at the bar and then he saw the white coat and the long waved brown hair and smiled. Harry tugged at Hermione's hand and led her over to where Ms. Gardiner was seated next to a woman with long straight black hair. When Harry reached the bar Ms. Gardiner had been in mid-sentence, speaking happily before she turned to look at whoever had come up beside her.

"Harry!" she smiled big and her eyes were sparkling from the fire lit lamps. "I thought I might catch you around after seeing your friend Ron…" She looked over to where the ginger haired boy was and raised her eyebrows.

Hermione sat down and Harry did so as well, still smiling.

"This is my old friend, Anna Earnest, she was in my year at Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw as well," Ms. Gardiner said as she gestured to the woman sitting next to her. She was fair skinned with dark brown eyes and red glossed lips. She wore thin robes like Ms. Gardiner that were black and her dark red coat was slung over her chair. She was a lot like Ms. Gardiner but lacked the same striking beauty Ms. Gardiner had. She was pretty but her smile just didn't light up the room.

"Harry Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you," the woman named Anna said. "Enjoying yourself today?" Harry was surprised when she had signed everything she had said as well.

"Yes, it's really nice to meet you," Harry signed and smiled. "This is my friend, Hermione Granger."

Anna nodded as Hermione had leaned forward to get a better view of her.

"I've just been catching up," Ms. Gardiner said. "I've told her how I've been coming back to the school to have my sessions with you, Harry."

Harry nodded.

"You seem just as sweet as she described you," Anna said softly and Harry felt the heat rise to his cheeks. "I have to say it's strange…I've heard so much about you almost all my life…"

Harry nodded justly and it was then that the bartender, Madame Rosmerta, had asked them kindly if they would like something. Hermione ordered 2 mugs of Butterbeer and they had showed their certificates and Harry was surprised that they actually were accepted.

Harry could see that Ms. Gardiner and her friend Anna were drinking wine. They began to talk about simple things like Hogwarts and how it was like when Ms. Gardiner and Anna were in school. Harry and Hermione listened mostly as the background sound of clinking glasses and plates and chatter was a soft murmur to their ears. The smell of alcohol was a bit strong at the bar and Harry smelt the smoke of cigars and drank his Butterbeer, licking at the creamy foam that would get on his lips.

He was a bit disappointed however because he heard nothing about Ms. Gardiner and Professor Royle; Royle wasn't even mentioned in their conversation though Ms. Gardiner being single still was brought up when the woman had admired Anna's engagement ring. He found out that her fiancé was a muggle. After an hour Harry's cheeks were warm and he found his thoughts drifting toward Snape and how he was looking forward to being able to see the man tonight.

Hermione was looking a bit glum and Harry noticed the few times where she had glanced over at Ron and Lavender who seemed to be having a cozy time snogging and Harry wished Lavender didn't giggle the way she always did at whatever Ron said.

It was when Ms. Gardiner had looked at her small silver watch did she say:

"Well, I have to get going, I usually go out with Emily on Saturdays when I have the day off."

Harry and Hermione stood with her and Anna and they walked out of the inn together. Harry shivered against the cold. They said a few parting words before Ms. Gardiner hugged Harry, kissing him lightly on the cheek, telling him to be safe and hugged Hermione and the two women had Dissaparated.

"Shall we go back to the school, then?" Hermione said.

Harry nodded and once again hand in hand they began to make their way back to Hogwarts. The wind had gotten much stronger.

"Are you having your detention with Snape?" Hermione asked, her voice somewhat raised so Harry would be able to hear her over the wind.

Harry nodded, doing his best to concentrate on the warmth between their gloved linked hands; the only warmth his body was feeling at the moment.

"Mine's with Professor McGonagall…" Hermione said. "She was surprised to know I had gotten detention…"

Harry nodded once more. He knew she was just trying to avoid a silent walk back to the castle. The road was empty and Harry stared at the trees, blinking quickly against the wind.

"Was it weird at all…when he first kissed you?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Harry looked to her and she was looking at the dirt and rock covered ground.

Harry shook his head.

"I didn't think so…" Hermione muttered, looking off into the distance. After a moment she said:

"It was weird…when Viktor kissed me…I mean…I liked it…I liked him…but it wasn't special…like I thought it would be…"

Harry listened and he couldn't help but think just how right it was when Snape had first kissed him or just how wonderful it felt when Snape was looking at him and sometimes there would be a greediness in those eyes and he wondered why Snape would look at him that way, could desire him the way he did.

Hermione had stopped walking and Harry stopped slowly, her hand still in his and he realized that there were tears in her eyes.

"I shouldn't feel this way…about some boy…" Hermione said. "It's pathetic…I shouldn't need him to…I shouldn't want him to…I shouldn't be angry over this…But when I see him with…_her_...it feels like…I just can't stand it…I just want to tear them apart…" Hermione had looked to him quickly as her voice had risen and the puffs of mist had left her lips with every word. Her nose and cheeks were red and her eyes stood out against the tears.

Harry had slipped his hand from hers and he stood before now, he could hear and see his breath, could feel the small shivers of her body as he held her arms and he looked into her eyes and there was a strength in them, a certain determined liveliness like a flower blooming in spring or a butterfly hatching from its chrysalis.

"You really love him, don't you?" Harry signed after a moment.

Hermione looked at him sturdily and then she nodded twice. Somewhere far off a crow took flight. Harry stepped closer to her and thumbed away her tears, took her hand and then they were walking towards the castle again.

* * *

Harry did not see Snape at dinner and he found it hard to pay attention to his chicken and vegetables. Harry saw a lot of energized smiles throughout the Great Hall and he guessed it was because of the trip to the village; he saw a lot of Honeydukes sweets being passed around.

Professor McGonagall had come up to Harry and Hermione and told them she would take Harry down to the dungeons first and be back for Hermione. Harry had his hands in his jacket's pockets as he walked alongside McGonagall in silence. She left him by Snape's office door and Harry knocked upon it.

He was surprised when Snape answered the door wearing muggle clothes: a dark red dress shirt with black slacks and a matching black overcoat, and those shined dress shoes.

"Evening," Snape said quietly.

Harry nodded and the man let him in. Harry could tell that Snape seemed off tonight; not so much in a bad mood, just bothered by something. He followed Snape to his personal quarters and before Harry could ask the man how he was Snape went off to the kitchen to get their tea.

Harry shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it up and went to sit by the fire. The room was a bit dim but the crackling fire set a bright glow over Harry's body as he watched it, feeling a calm peace almost sinking into his skin; he was happy that he had got detention.

Snape returned with the tray of two cups of white tea and set it on the glass table before sitting a little ways away from Harry. Harry took up his tea cup and blew on it justly before taking a sip, enjoying the taste and the heat; it warmed his cold fingertips.

"How was Hogsmeade?" Snape asked tonelessly.

"It was alright…cold though, everyone was crowded in the shops to keep warm…" Harry signed after he put his cup back on the tray.

Snape didn't reply and Harry waited in the sudden awkward silence.

"Why weren't you at dinner?" Harry signed.

Snape's black eyes were on the fire; they made a shiver go up Harry's spine.

"I wasn't hungry…" Snape replied in a low voice and Harry had to lean closer to hear it.

The man was sitting up straight, his hands on his knees, feet planted firmly on the floor and Harry began to worry.

"Are you…alright?" Harry signed slowly.

"May I ask you something?" the man said quickly.

Harry realized his hands had started to quiver slightly.

"Sure…" Harry signed.

"Are you gay, Harry?" Snape asked straightforwardly but he didn't look at him.

Harry's lips parted and he just stared at the man in confusion.

"I'm sorry…what do you mean?" Harry signed nervously.

Snape's eyes closed and they opened and it looked as if the man was struggling against what he was going to speak next. Snape turned to face him swiftly, his eyes almost glaring at Harry; they were very unyielding, demanding.

"I am asking if you are attracted to men…boys," Snape said tightly.

Harry's hands were on his knees and he just stared at the man wondering why in the world would Snape ask him such a thing?

"I…I know what being gay means…" Harry signed, his lips shaking somewhat.

"Well are you or are you not?" Snape asked clearly. His eyes were just too…forceful.

Harry knew he had asked himself this question once before and had answered it as well but he just didn't understand why Snape was asking this of him; he couldn't make sense of it.

"No…I'm not…I mean…I don't feel anything when I look at another boy…if that's what you mean…" Harry struggled to sign; his confused expression was mixed with uncertainty.

"Then you feel some sort of attraction to women…to girls," Snape said and Harry really wished he would stop talking that way; it was formal and strange to his ears.

"No…I mean…I've…had a crush on a girl before…but I don't…" Harry signed. "I don't feel anything towards them…now? I don't know..."

"But you say you are attracted to me…a man," Snape said.

"I…I…am attracted to you…" Harry signed. "I really don't…why are you asking me all this?"

"So you find some attraction towards men," Snape said, ignoring Harry's question.

"No," Harry signed, his eyes narrowing, trying not to feel cornered but failing. "I'm not attracted to men…"

"And yet you say you are attracted to me, how do you explain that?" Snape said quickly and Harry was starting to feel dizzy.

"Why are you asking me this?" Harry signed and he stood because he honestly needed to be standing up. He knew he had this conversation with himself a while back, knew he only felt these sort of strong feelings for Snape, who was a man, Harry obviously knew that little fact, and he didn't know how to explain it.

"Do you notice girls? At all?" Snape said.

Harry let out a breath.

"What do you mean? Of course I notice girls, they're not invisible," Harry signed and then Snape stood.

"I mean do you notice things about them, their faces, if they are ugly or pretty," Snape's voice was rising, "their breasts or their legs or whatever part of their anatomy that has your teenage hormonal body reacting in whatever way that would be considered "an attraction"."

"Yes!" Harry signed and felt like he couldn't breathe, felt like someone had given Snape something to make him act so unlike himself. "Of course I do…but I don't…_feel_ anything when I see…them…" Harry didn't want to have to sign "breasts" or any other part of a girl's body.

"So if you don't _feel _anything toward women or men what is it about me that makes you feel something?" Snape said almost harshly.

Harry just stared at the man. He didn't know how to answer the question just like everything else the man was asking him.

"I…you're…" Harry signed and his hands were shaking as was the rest of his body. He waited and his heart was pounding and a strong heat was rising to his face. "Everything…" It was the only answer he could give otherwise he'd be signing for hours.

"But I am still a man," Snape said and his voice shook just barely.

"I don't know…what else to tell you…" Harry signed. "I don't know why…you're angry…or asking all of these…pointless things…that you know I don't understand…"

"Because you're _sixteen_…" Snape said tensely.

Harry stiffened and his vision wavered over Snape's obstinate gaze. His breath had caught in his throat.

"What does that mean?" Harry signed and he glared at the man. "What does that have to do with anything?" His jaw clenched and he knew he was growing angry.

"You misunderstand me…" Snape said and his voice was lower. "I just mean…If you are attracted to me…you are expressing some sort of homosexuality…and you might just be against it in some way…or you could prefer both men and women…perhaps you just do not realize it…or recognize it…because you are young…" Snape was looking at the floor now. "I know there are…certain things about me…that arouse you…"

"But you're trying to make me prove to you that I _am _attracted to you by putting it under some…specific definition…as if we were something…so common…" Harry signed and let out a breath. "You can't ask that of me…and I won't ask it of you though I have thought about it…I don't even know…if you liked men before me…but I don't want to focus on that…I just…" Harry closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, trying to fight against the embarrassment.

"I hope you know what I mean…" Harry signed. "I don't…understand it myself really…"

"I'm sorry…" Snape said and it with a gentleness though there was still that hardened sound to the man's voice.

Harry waited for more of an explanation but the man didn't say anymore.

"That's it? You start all of this…whatever it is…and then you try to wrap it up like it's nothing?" Harry signed forcibly. "What is it? What's been bugging you lately? I don't understand…what's the matter with you?"

"I went to Hogsmeade today…" Snape said and his dark eyes fell slightly.

"Ok…" Harry signed knowing it was perfectly normal for teachers to visit the village whenever they wanted.

"I saw you…holding hands…with Ms. Granger…" Snape said quietly.

Harry stood there staring at the man in utter disbelief and all he could think about was Ron and it made him feel ill to compare Severus Snape to _Ronald_ _Weasley_ who thought he was _snogging _Hermione, who thought he was _in love_ with the girl who it was so ridiculously obvious to realize she was head over heels in love with _Ron_. And now Snape, _Snape _believed such a thing…after all they had done together? He thought he had been done with calling Snape a git…

Harry turned around and began to walk toward the entrance hall.

"What are you doing?" Snape called.

"I'm leaving," Harry turned and signed and grabbed up his jacket.

Before he could grab the door handle Snape's hand took hold of Harry's upper arm tightly. Harry tried to yank it away hating how fast the man was. In a second his body was pressed against the door, pinned there by Snape's hands and his jacket fell to the floor. Harry tried to struggle but of course his strength was no match for the man's own.

"I saw the way that Chang girl looked at you…how she touched you…" Snape said in almost a whisper and that velvet voice almost shook and Harry's heart was pounding against the wood of the door and the side of his face felt how cold it was to the fire in his face.

"She's pretty…I know you thought she was pretty..." Snape said and Harry shut his eyes as he could feel Snape's grip tighten. The man sounded much different than before; his voice was almost sorrowful and there was fear in it and if Harry wasn't imagining it, Snape was nervous. "And that Weasley girl…she always tries to make you pay attention to her…she _wants _you…"

_Stop…_ The word came on its own in Harry's head. _Stop talking this way…please stop saying these things…_

"How many girls have asked to be yours? In the past week?" They were questions but Snape had said them already knowing the answers and Harry didn't know what he was feeling. Should he be sorry? How could he do anything to stop a girl from asking him out? He couldn't just say he was seeing their Potions Master already.

"I keep having to witness it…I hear them talk about you…" Snape's voice was a whisper now and he had come closer to Harry. "They say you're handsome…and fit…and your eyes are beautiful…that you're flawless…" Snape's hold on him was painful and his body was trembling. "It's pathetic…" Snape's lips were by his ear and Harry couldn't stop the shiver that went across his neck. "I'm a grown man…" Snape's whispered voice entered him slowly, snaking its way through his body, making his muscles tighten. "But I can't stop feeling this way…" The man's voice quivered and Harry shuddered out a breath. "I'm jealous…beyond control…Harry…" Snape's body came closer and Harry was pressed harder against the door; he opened his eyes and blinked quickly. "You must think I'm pathetic…pitiful…wretched and senseless…"

"I cannot stand it…" Snape hissed out and Snape's voice was above him since he was so close to him. "I can't see you miserable…when I picture you with them…" Harry felt like his heart was stopping even though it was beating so fast it hurt. The ache in his chest felt like it was breaking his whole body apart and tears had come to his eyes and he was trembling and Snape was holding on to his arms so tightly and he was terrified. "It's driving me mad…I don't want…you to want them…to need them…and I don't want to give you up…if you decide…if you ever decide…" Harry could feel the beating of Snape's heart through his back; it felt like it was piercing him like a blade. "But you're sixteen…" His voice was barely audible; so hushed and Harry knew it was pained and he couldn't believe it, couldn't believe how much he could make the man feel, that he had such a power over this man, that he was worth that, worth Snape's pain and fear and jealousy... "You're sixteen…" Snape loosened his hold and Harry swallowed hard and it felt like the earth was trembling underneath his feet, felt like he needed Snape to hold him up or he would fall forever, that the agony would swallow him whole. "But I can't hold back…and it's wrong Harry…Don't hate me for it, please don't hate me for it…"

And he wasn't terrified of Snape, he was terrified of what was becoming so very clear to him now against the restraint his body was under but he liked the way it felt, to be this close to the man, so close but it wasn't close enough, to hear such words; they were his words, they were for him, only him and his heart felt like it would rip open, felt like his body couldn't contain what he was feeling, and it overwhelmed him like the sound of thunder, filled his body to the brim, hurt his eyes as if he were looking at the rays of the sun, was as fast as a shooting star but it did not disappear; it was apart of him, growing, spilling in, becoming him, breaking past the fear and landing as soft as a leaf.

He should have known what had happened, what was bound to happen, what was inevitable and impossible to stop.

It was love.

He loved Severus.

Severus. _Severus. Severus. Severus._

"I'm sorry…"

Harry opened his eyes suddenly, not knowing he had closed them and his heart was thumping madly and Severus had pressed his body against Harry's, his right hand letting his arm go and it came under both his thin jumper and shirt, that hand brushing up his stomach and coming down to trace his waist line. Severus was kissing along his neck and Harry could feel himself growing hard and he had no such will to stop the arousal that was coursing through his body.

Severus pulled Harry against him, away from the door and his left hand let go of Harry's arm and then he was turned around swiftly and Severus pushed him up against the door and Harry found himself staring up into those shadowed eyes that held that careful light and it was lovely.

Severus began to kiss him deeply, hungrily and Harry joined in and then their hands were on each other's bodies, feeling up chests and stomachs and thighs and rubbing against their forming erections. Severus lifted Harry up with ease and Harry wrapped his legs around the man's waist and his back was against the door and he had his arms around the man's neck, kissing him and Severus smelt good, his lips felt so good against his own and Harry could hardly breathe.

And the next thing he knew he was on the man's bed and Severus was undressing him quickly as he was taking off his own clothes and Harry loved the way the man's chest moved when he took off his dress shirt, loved the way the muscles worked.

Then they were both naked and Harry loved the weight of Severus's body upon him, loved the warmth they created between them, loved how Severus's hands were all over him, rubbing and gripping and he was embarrassed but he loved the heat in his cheeks, how his body trembled with anticipation.

And he was lost in the immense pleasure as their members rubbed against each other, coated in a slick lubricant that had come from a tiny bottle. He moaned mutely and listened to the harsh breaths Severus let out. He knew nothing but the way the man's strong hand was wrapped around their erections, stroking slowly at first and then much faster until Harry came in time with Severus. Severus had lain atop of Harry's body when they were finished, moving to the side so he wouldn't be heavy on him and Harry could feel the hot come between their skin, could hear how the room was filled with their labored breathing.

There was no cleaning spells afterward, instead they showered together for the first time and Severus washed Harry's body carefully, gently and all Harry could do was follow when Severus had begun to kiss him again, the hot shower water feeling too hot against his skin as the soap suds moved down his body, pleasuring his skin and he let that hand stroke his member, watched how the man's hand moved as Severus kissed his neck, biting softly and whispering such things that only made him harder, kissing him deeply before he came again and Severus held him as he shivered through the pleasure, out of breath, listening to the beat of the man's heart like some kind of song that he wanted to live by.

It was love that had come from it all, from the special way the sun shone through the windows by their booth, from the times when he had to stop himself from looking back at the man in that wheat field, from the waves that rolled onto that shore of the softest sand, from that velvet-like voice that spoke his first name for the first time, from those deep, deep richly black eyes, and from that very first kiss painted against a vibrant blue sky at the end of summer…

It caught his soul, entangled within it, and he wondered just how he could ever begin to be brave enough to tell Severus those words. He hadn't thought it was possible for him to fall in love or call the man by his first name even if it was just in his head but he had done it anyway that night so really…anything was possible now.

* * *

A/N:

Ok. That was a long chapter and I really hope it wasn't bad so please tell me what you think, review if you can, it helps to know what you think. And I apologize again for its lateness.

A few things:

-I'm sorry for putting a whole two weeks in one chapter.

-I hope no one minded the way I had the little fight with Ron and Ginny from book 6 with my own changes.

-I know that Quidditch doesn't usually start till like the end of October but I needed to get things a moving so yeah.

-I hope everyone understands how conflicted Snape is; there is more to the problem than just jealousy obviously.

And Harry is in love! Which is a good thing…sort of.

Anyway, tell me what you think and if you have questions or complaints don't hesitate to message me.

I apologize if there are any errors I may have missed.

It's been a while but I hope you are all doing well and want to keep reading.

The next chapter will be up soon. Thank you for reading.


	33. Chapter 32: Tether this Love Part I

A/N: Hi there. I know I have not been able to update as fast as I would like but things just keep getting busy around here and it's the holiday season.

I want to thank everyone for the reviews for the last chapter.

I wanted to let the readers know the reason for this chapter's lateness is because I have written 2 chapters, a part 1 and a part 2. There was just so much to write and I wanted a lot to happen and a lot is going to happen in these 2 chapters so I hope no one minds it, I am once again compressing a lot of days in and have a few time leaps but it is necessary for the story's progression. I hope everyone accepts this chapter:

**I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.**

**Warning: This chapter contains Graphic and Mature Content and M/M. Don't like it, don't read it, thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter 32: Tether this Love Part I**

_They were tiny yellow flowers that surrounded the girl's body like a halo. The yellow was as thick as pastel and there was a bee floating along the bloomed buds, dipping down and rising up like a simple supple melody. The faint buzzing in her ears reminded her of home, of the summer that had just past and her front yard had been filled with the laughter of her mother and the clapping hands of her sister and the glistening spray of water from the hose that spilled onto the cobblestone walkway, making puddles that mirrored the sky above so beautifully, as if there was a gateway to the magical world, as if she could just jump in and spring out the other side._

_ But instead she had taken a scarlet steaming train. _

_ On her lap sat an old heavy open book that seemed much too big for her 11 year old body but her eyes were skimming across the pages, soaking up the historical facts and dates she needed to know. _

_ "I guess Ravenclaws really do live in books."_

_ Her eyes lowered and she looked up quickly, glaring at the young boy who was standing atop the ring of flowers, crushing them. _

_ "And Slytherins don't care for flowers," she spoke harshly, eyeing the boy's trainers._

_ The boy was taller than her but she had seen him get sorted the week before, knew he was a First Year. His eyes were gray and the sunlight was living in them strongly, reminding her of the puddles she had been thinking about. _

_ "Er…sorry," the boy said and hopped into the little circle. _

_ She rolled her eyes and then went back to reading the book, pulling her white dress further past her knees. The boy stood before her now, hands in his jeans pockets and then he started whistling._

_ She squinted her eyes in annoyance and looked up at the lingering unwanted visitor._

_ "I am trying to read…" she said tightly._

_ "Oh I realize that, it's quite obvious," the boy said and grinned down at her._

_ She slammed the book shut and a puff of dust had come up from the pages, causing her to cough, shutting her eyes against it. The boy began to laugh softly._

_ "Why are you bugging me?" she asked after she heaved the book to her side._

_ "How did you carry that thing all the way out here?" the boy asked lightly as if her question had flown right over his head._

_ "Magic of course, this is a magic school," she said and she took her wand from her pocket and twirled it in her fingers._

_ "Good with levitation charms then?" the boy said and he sat down, cross legged._

_ "They're not that difficult to manage," she said._

_ "Your eyes are really green, greener than grass," he said._

_ She felt a prickling heat upon her ears and then glared at the boy, pressing her lips together. _

_ "So, was there something you wanted?" she said quickly. _

_ "Not really, no. Just saw you out here, fancied a chat," he said simply. "It is a nice lake…" _

_ "A giant squid lives there, you know," she said quietly._

_ "Are you afraid?" he asked and he grinned at her again._

_ "Of course not, that's silly," she said with a hardened tone and looked forward steadily, still wearing a glowering expression._

_ "It won't hurt you, I promise," he said. _

_ "I'm not scared," she said and turned her head swiftly to eye him over again wondering why this boy was bothering her and wondering why she was still talking to him._

_ "Would you be a little bit easier to talk to if I was in a different House?" he asked._

_ She was silent for a short moment and then she said softly:_

_ "The Sorting Hat said I would do well in Slytherin…but I wanted Ravenclaw…" _

_ "Really?" he said. _

_ She nodded and then moved to sit on her knees, fluffing her dress out._

_ "The Hat told me I belonged in Gryffindor…" he said plainly._

_ She blinked many times before saying:_

_ "Then why Slytherin…? Is it because your brother is in Slytherin?" _

_ He nodded and then looked down at the ground. _

_ "I don't really think it matters…what House you're in…" he said. "It's only seven years...When you've graduated you have nothing but you to sort yourself out…" _

_ She didn't say anything and let her eyes fall upon another bee that drifted a long. _

_ "But it's fun I suppose…" he said softly, "belonging somewhere, supporting something, having some spirit…" _

_ She nodded her head once, blinking gently._

_ "What's your name, Ravenclaw?" he asked._

_ She looked up at him and a soft breeze past by, lifting up her long wavy brown hair. _

_ "Sophia, my name is Sophia," she said confidently. "And what's yours, Slyther—oh!"_

_ She had felt that something had landed on her face and it had made her flinch._

_ "It's just a ladybug," he said and he had reached over and plucked one of the small yellow flowers out of the halo. He brought the flower slowly to her cheek and the ladybug crawled upon it._

_ Her heart was livelier in her chest and she stared at him as he held the blossom with the bug._

_ "I'm Liam," he said. _

_ She watched the small ladybug fly away, rising up and up, skipping across the patches of sunlight that shown through the tree leaves above._

* * *

His eyes opened slowly. He didn't know how long he had been asleep for but he knew he had woken up because he was cold. The ice in his half empty glass of whisky had not melted. The amber liquid gleamed like gold coins. Everything was too silent around him. He had succumbed to sleep sitting at the table, his head lying atop his folded arms, unable to fight off the exhaustion in his body any longer though it felt like he needed to stay awake, to suffer some kind of punishment for what he had done, for what he was continuing to do.

He knew what he was doing was wrong, knew that these past two weeks he had been putting up with the growing immense guilt that felt as if it was physically biting him, especially when he would look into the boy's eyes. But he had been the victor against this guilt every single time and he knew that prolonging it would just make the outcome worse, but it would be bad either way, especially since he had kept his confessions from the boy for so long.

But he hadn't known this would happen, he hadn't known he would come to care for Harry so much, hadn't known that he would fall in love. How could he have known? It wasn't possible to know such a thing, to be ready for such a thing and he wouldn't have wanted it but he hadn't any choice in that matter because it had snuck up over him in the dark, in that small part in his wasted heart that could still somehow feel, it had possessed that part without him being aware of it.

And when he had freed himself from the lies, when he had truly looked into that face, and saw who that face belonged to, he didn't know what it had been, something so supernatural perhaps that had swept over his body, bound it and he had no control over what he had begun to feel. Perhaps it was because he had been so alone for many years, living in a splintered cage of bitterness and breathing in the toxic fumes of misery but if he really thought about it, if he really had to be honest, if anyone else had come along it wouldn't have changed him, no, it was just Harry, as a person, another being, another soul, regardless of age or sex, it was Harry who had been the key to saving his skinned and desolate soul.

He had not deserved it and he still did not deserve it.

But he was selfish, so selfish and unbelievably gluttonous.

And if all this wasn't a sin, it should be.

If only he was capable of keeping it in forever, of just going on together day after day without ever letting the truth slip past his lips. If only he could keep it all hidden from that pure heart that shown through those eyes like a comet's light. If only he could be that desperate. If only he could be that cruel.

But he knew what was right to do, what he must soon face and he prayed that somehow love had found the boy's heart, that somehow Harry had looked beyond all the dark things that Severus was, could see past the shadow and the treachery and the lies, that Harry's kindness would be his justification, that would serve for his freedom and for forgiveness, because it was forgiveness, an unearned forgiveness, that he was wishing for from the boy.

He was angry, furious at himself that he had let his walls come down so easily, his armor of composure, of violence, of strength, of that solidarity that he used to know, that had been him for so long, that he had let himself become this, like a servant to such a love, a devote soul to another soul, that he had bowed to it, grown weak because of it, obeyed it without question. The armor had shattered, had been no match, had disappeared by the soft breath from the boy's lips against his ear, had been torn away by the simplest touch of such warm fingertips upon his chest, had murdered it bloody and ragged with just a divine planted kiss over his heart…And he was left with the boy's scent upon his pillow in the dead hours of night where to his tired eyes the fire in the bedside lamp would look like jumping crystals and he hated how it made him suffer to endure this deep concealed love.

It was maddening to know that it was more of a challenge to keep in his confession of such a love than the dark, evil secrets that pushed against it. How he wished, begged to be a different man, a man without sin or doubt, a man without regrets or stolen innocence, a man without burdens or pride or secrets or suffering…

He had done this to himself, he had been the one to not turn away, to not ignore that line, and really, there had been no one else he could have handed his life to, his wicked life. He had put it in those hands, those shivering hands and if only the boy could realize that, could realize how much Severus was risking but he was too young, and he was asking for so much. It was wrong, insane, but it was either that or death and some part of him from the very beginning just couldn't leave the boy alone no matter how much Harry didn't need him.

Severus's body trembled and he opened his eyes and he reached out with his hand and slid the crumpled paper that was upon the dark wooden table toward him. It was the letter that the boy had written him, the letter that had opened his eyes to Harry's truth; that had been the reaching hand that pulled him up from a possible perdition. He wasn't exaggerating, and sometimes he found it very hard to believe in it even in his dreams, though they were few.

So much had happened from this one letter, from the time that they had spent together, and even though he was still against being fully honest with the boy he longed to hear that voice and there were times where he just wished he could shake it from that body, from that throat, could have it rise up, could somehow make it live again and he knew, even now, even now, if he ever did hear that voice, he would truly be devoured by this love.

His fingertips brushed over the slightly neat scrawl, the written words that had come from Harry's head, maybe from his heart as well and it had caused him physical pain to read those words.

He let his head rest against the table, his eyes burning with fatigue, but he did not desire sleep, because when he slept nightmarish dreams would leak through his skull and they would be of Harry's reaction to the confessions he held onto with a vice like grip and they would always be horrible and the boy would always cry, the boy would always look at him with such hatred and agony and he would always run, always leave him in the pitch blackness and such an ache of loneliness that at sometimes he would wake up and realize he had been sobbing in his sleep.

It was pathetic, he had been so pathetic to even go as far as spying on the boy in the village, to go as far as making himself sound like a fool in front of the boy, saying such things, pouring out his feelings as if he were a child and how he regretted it, regretted how he was a hypocrite because he too did not know how he was attracted to Harry and felt nothing of such certain feelings toward anyone else. But he had to know, he had to ask, he had to make Harry realize how much he wanted him, desired him, and he knew he had probably scared the boy by his actions. He was a miserable, shameful person.

He just couldn't stop.

He couldn't let go of that light, of that happiness and he wanted, he needed those illuminating eyes, like bleeding dark topaz. The boy was like the beauty of spring but brought with him the scent of winter.

He shut his eyes, his body was cold and his chest was burning from drinking too much and he was dizzy and yet the letter under his hand felt warm.

If he could be anything to the boy, anything at all, no matter if it were the darkness in his heart, or the mistakes he had made, or the evil presence in his dreams, all he wanted was to always stay in some part of that body's existence.

* * *

He could hardly remember the dream but he had woken up feeling so scared and breathing hard and his face and body had felt hot and sweaty. He might have been running in the dream, chasing after someone. It had been Sirius and he had heard his godfather's distant cries of pain, and there was a whitewashed path of stone that his feet had been pounding against and there had been blood splattered on that path and he felt as if he couldn't run fast enough and there had been shadows of creatures all around him…

Harry was awake now and he had calmed down as he lay upon his back but his breathing was still a bit off. His throat hurt and he felt feverish. Had he gotten sick somehow? Harry shut his eyes tight, cursing his luck, it was not a good way to start a Monday but it seemed that not very many good things happened to him on Mondays.

Harry sat up slowly and a cough escaped him, it stung his chest and he rubbed it slowly. He sighed softly and rubbed at his head that felt heavy and foggy. It was most likely just a cold.

He had stayed out in the courtyard too long the day before. He had felt like getting away from everyone, especially Ron and Lavender since the girl had taken to giving the boy a pet name, "Won Won". He hadn't seen Hermione much yesterday, only at breakfast and dinner. He had wanted to be alone to try to sort out his thoughts, to try to figure out the now obvious realization that he...

_I'm in love with him…_ It must have been the hundredth time that the sentence had skated across his thoughts and each time he would feel his face heat up, would feel his heart jump, would have to hold tightly onto something, his school bag or the end of his jumper's sleeves or his knees. Could being in love with someone be this frightening? He didn't know. And he honestly had no idea of what to do.

Harry fought against the sudden fatigue on his body to get ready for classes that morning, to not have any contact with Ron, and to make his way down to the Great Hall with Hermione who seemed a tad more cheerful than she had been in the last few days.

"Harry…you look feverish," Hermione said softly to him when they had sat down.

Harry felt out of breath as he tried to hold in a cough but couldn't so he covered his mouth with his hands. The sting in his chest made him wince and he realized his ears hurt somewhat.

"It's…just a cold," Harry signed and it hurt to swallow.

"You should go to the Hospital Wing," Hermione said as she grabbed a bagel.

"I'll be fine…" Harry signed. He really didn't want to have Madame Pomfrey fretting over him again, especially since he had just been there last week.

He had no appetite and as he watched Hermione eat he couldn't help but think when he would tell her that he was in love with…

_Severus...Why do I get so embarrassed to even think his name? _Harry thought hotly. It was like shouting at himself. _He says my first name just fine…! _

He shut his eyes and it was as if he hadn't slept at all that night. Why did he have to get sick so suddenly? It was just troublesome and added on to the stress he was already under. He was in love for goodness sake and he felt more like an idiot than ever and he begged that this wasn't what every girl who fancied him felt like…but his love wasn't like that, it couldn't be so…adolescent…It was that kind of love, real love, adult, mature, true, and even if he was only 16 he knew what he felt, knew that this sort of love would never fail, would never hurt anyone but himself, it was loyal and he had no idea, _no idea_ what he was going to do.

Because as much as he wanted to be with _Severus_, for forever, to have a future, as much as he wanted that possibility of a future, this had become more, much more than what it had been, this was his life, this was what was happening to his life.

He couldn't really breathe and he knew it was because he was ill but his heart felt different, it felt heavier in his chest, warmer. His eyes found the Staff table but…Severus wasn't there and Harry returned to staring at his oatmeal which was making him queasy.

And how he felt only got worse in the next few hours. By the end of Charms class after barely being able to listen to Professor Flitwick's lecture because he had been trying to keep himself from coughing, his head hurt and there was a pressuring ache in his eyes. At lunch he paid little attention to his surroundings for he was quite dizzy and felt exhausted and winded even though he was just sitting at the Gryffindor table, lying his head down upon his arms and trying not to fall asleep.

"That's it," Hermione said in a commanding tone. She had been sitting across from him. "I don't know why you're being so stubborn but you need to go to the Hospital Wing, Harry, it's no use to just wait to get better while you're suffering and this is definitely not a cold."

Harry lifted his eyes slightly and nodded weakly. He had to give in; he wasn't going to make it through the rest of the day like this and he knew he couldn't show up to Potions like this either.

"I'll walk you," Hermione said quickly.

Harry made his way to the Hospital Wing grudgingly as he was beginning to feel all sorts of aches and pains in his muscles and by the time he and Hermione came into the ward he was coughing more, doing his best to stifle it, trying not to wonder just how sick he was.

"I'll tell Professor Snape you're ill," Hermione said after Harry was seated on one of the beds and Madame Pomfrey, without a word, had gone off to get what she needed for Harry. Harry gave her a dismal smile before she walked out of the Wing with her heavy school bag in tow.

The next thing he knew a cold metal thermometer was under his tongue and Madame Pomfrey had her wand out that was glowing at the tip as she was performing diagnostics on Harry's body.

"One hundred and two," Madame Pomfrey said while shaking her head slowly. "You are showing symptoms of the flu, Mr. Potter. A few potions and a day's rest and you'll be fine, you'll have to stay here for the day however, we don't want it spreading to the other students."

Harry nodded. He could hardly see straight now. In minutes he was given a few doses of potions and he lay down in the hospital bed reluctantly. The need for sleep was overpowering him and his chest was feeling numb and the heat in his face was lessening. He felt confused or overwhelmed, he really didn't know and after a moment he could only feel how fast he was sinking into the darkness that was sleep.

Night had fallen when he finally awoke and he was aware that he could breathe much easier. He faintly remembered getting up almost like a sleepwalker to use the lavatory but he hadn't known what time that had been. His body felt weak as he was lying on his side, curled up under the white blanket and he could tell that his fever had broken. Everything was silent in the ward and all he could see was the blurriness of the dimly lit room and the whiteness of the other beds.

It felt strange to have missed Potions and he wondered if he had worried the man again. He didn't feel like moving yet and his eyes felt tired still but there was no pain in his body, in fact he felt very light and warm and even though he was alone it was better than a room full of chatter, better than hundreds of people around him, better than feeling their eyes on him.

Because he was in love and it was all he could think about.

And Severus had been jealous and it was very strange to know that the man could be jealous. Harry just couldn't wrap his mind around it and he wondered what were Severus's true feelings about him. It was a mystery, everything about the man was a mystery and yet he was in love with him. Why was he in love with Severus?

It couldn't be a simple answer, could it? Not with such a situation as theirs. They were so different and their relationship, though it did make him so very happy, was unusual and he was aware that others would find it wrong, disgusting. Even so, knowing that, all he wanted was to know how Severus felt and what they would do, together, what they would become, how they could live like this being who they were, with the burdens they carried.

He was trying to understand this love and it felt like the more time that passed by the deeper this love was sinking into him, burying itself, and it was alive inside of him, his heart, his veins, his bones, every part of him. Was this the kind of love his parents had shared? Could his mother have ever felt this way for his father? It made his skin hot, made him feel embarrassed; it made him feel helpless and invincible at the same time. It was crushing him; it was all that he was somehow.

Would people see it in his eyes? Could they see it? Were his eyes like Hermione's? With that quaking strength in them, that tender viciousness behind those eyelashes? He didn't know and he was afraid to know and his body felt different to him and the way he thought about Severus was different to him.

That rich black in those eyes condemned him. It was the very way the man held himself up, his very posture and demanding attitude with that composed face. It was that calmness that seemed to drown him, that strength that seemed to strangle his soul; it was just everything and anything about Severus that he could take in and it was like he couldn't look at the man long enough. It was frightening and it unnerved him.

He could barely describe what it made him feel. He had always known there was something dark within Severus, something that had made him bitter and spiteful and nasty in the past and he couldn't help but wonder what exactly was it that had made Severus Snape become a Death Eater and what had him step away from that sort of life and what part of him had earned the trust of Albus Dumbledore? And he had always known he'd never be able to ask the man about such things. Whether it be because he was scared or just not brave enough he just didn't want something to come between them again, he never wanted that hatred to ever, ever break them apart.

He needed Severus and now he knew why. But how could Severus ever feel the same, ever feel like he needed Harry? Who would ever need him like that? Not in the way to save people or to rid the world of Voldemort or to be some sort symbol for what was good, not like some prophesized hero, but as an equal, someone to love forever, to be with forever, to be able to cherish and promise things to, to never be alone, and to know that without the other they would be nothing.

Harry didn't know how or why he felt that's what love should be like and he didn't know if it was difficult or the easiest thing in the world and he didn't believe in soul mates or something cosmic like that but he could see them, him and Severus, together, walking beside each other, through whatever storm that would pass, but how could he tell Severus these things? How could he know how much hope Severus had in the two of them? He was just a boy, a 16 year old boy with way too many issues that he didn't have the will to try to understand them, to get through them.

And yet he was strong enough to be in love? With an older man? But this was _his _life, this was how he felt and he knew no matter how hard he tried now he'd never be able to love someone that to the eyes of others would be more _compatible, _that would be what was _right_.

This was his love. It was cradled in his heart like a small flame in glass, burning, it was his spirit, and it was true because when his eyes would meet that black, that wonderful depth, he just wanted to choose to live no matter what the future held. He didn't want such a thing to change. He realized above all else he just wanted to belong in those arms, to Severus, it controlled him, it was what gave him that hope.

Harry let out a breath, trying not to over think things, trying to forget how Severus's face had looked when he had admitted how he had seen Harry with Hermione. How could Severus not understand easily that he didn't love Hermione that way? Wouldn't he be able to realize something like that? He was an adult; he must have had others who he had fallen for, when he was in school surely. Or maybe that's just what jealously did, maybe it blinded you to what was obvious, maybe you could only see what was bad.

Harry had never felt that sort of jealousy, at least not to that extreme. He had only been really jealous of his cousin Dudley when they were children and he would never get anything for Christmas or his birthday, he had been jealous of the way his cousin was smothered with affection but it wasn't until he was older that he could see that there was plenty wrong with the Dursleys, with the way they treated not only him but others and still there were certain things he was able to grow fond of in those miserable, neglected years of his childhood. He supposed it was just because human beings always found some way to cope, something to hold onto to help them make it through their life, that anything would somehow be better than death, to a child anyway…

Harry sat up slowly, grabbing up his glasses and putting them on. He was hungry.

"Mr. Potter, you're up, are you feeling better?" Madame Pomfrey's voice made him look up and the mediwitch was walking quickly over to him.

Harry nodded.

"Do you feel well enough to go to dinner?" she asked lightly.

Harry nodded again.

"Well, off you get, make sure to keep warm and I hope I won't be seeing you anytime soon," she smiled at him.

Harry felt the small smile tug at his mouth and he was soon putting on his school shoes and straightening his cardigan and tie and patting down his hair. After putting on his robes and grabbing his school bag he started off to the Great Hall. He took his time however as he did feel a bit feeble. Rather than going through the doors of the Great Hall he took a quick peek, keeping himself hidden behind them. Severus wasn't present at the Staff table again. He felt worried now that he hadn't seen the man at all today and wondered if they would even have their lesson tonight.

His feet moved on their own and he was soon walking down the spiral stoned staircase and through the freezing dungeon corridors. Harry knocked lightly upon the office door and waited in the odd silence around him, thinking if he should have slipped on his Invisibility Cloak or not, feeling his stomach growl with emptiness and worrying that there was something wrong with the man.

The door opened after a moment and Harry was surprised at how fast his heart sped up, at how it suddenly felt like he was out of breath. Severus's eyes looked slightly worn, like he hadn't been sleeping again or he had just woken up, but his clothes still had that pressed look about them and the man's dress shoes still held that shine.

"Harry," Severus said gently. It was a second before he spoke again: "Come in."

Harry did so, holding tighter to his school bag and trying to force himself to relax.

"Are you alright? I thought you'd still be in the Hospital Wing," Severus said. "Are you feeling better?"

Harry nodded once.

"I guess it was just the flu…I had a fever and a bad cough," Harry signed slowly; his hands felt cold and they shook.

"I know...I visited you…" Severus said. They were both standing before the closed door and Harry was finding it hard to look Severus in the eyes and not look at the man's shoes. "You were sleeping…"

"I feel better though…" Harry signed. "Are we going to have a lesson?"

"No, I'd rather not have you strain your body after you've been sick," Severus said softly.

Harry nodded justly and then waited.

"Have you eaten?" Harry signed. "You weren't at the Staff table for breakfast…and I didn't see you…I mean, I didn't go to dinner since you weren't there…I was…worried…"

"I am sorry for worrying you…I've just been busy…" the man said quietly. "Are you hungry? I'll make you something."

Harry noticed Severus hadn't answered if he had eaten or not but he nodded in reply. It was then that Severus took a step a forward, closing the distance between them and a lukewarm hand was brought to his forehead and his breath caught in his throat.

"You must be cold," Severus said as his hand came away.

Harry did feel cold and shivery and tired and it seemed like that hand took away the feeling he had in his legs, whatever energy that had been left in his body just felt like it had been stolen by that hand.

"Come," Severus said and took Harry by the hand.

He was led into the man's personal quarters where Severus sat him down on the couch. The fire was lit and the sitting room was dim. It was only 6:20. Harry set his bag down on the floor and took off his robes as Severus had gone down the hall. It was only seconds before he came back with a pillow atop a folded dark gray cotton blanket.

"Rest, I'll make you something to eat," Severus said gently.

"I'm sorry…if I'm bothering you," Harry signed after he set the pillow and blanket down next to him.

"Nonsense," the man said. "I'll be only a moment."

Harry watched the man walk toward the door that led to the kitchen and then he toed of his school shoes and lay on the couch, putting the pillow underneath his head and bringing the soft blanket over him. It was much better than lying down in the Hospital Wing.

As he watched the crackling flames in the hearth he could faintly hear the man in the kitchen and he wondered what he was cooking, feeling somewhat guilty that he was taking time away from whatever Severus had been busy with. But he felt a bit happy. No one had ever made him anything before when he was sick, not like this, not when he felt at home or this sort of warmth around his body, no one had ever taken care of him this way.

The next thing he knew his eyes were opening and Severus was setting down a silver tray upon the glass table. Harry saw there was bowl of chicken noodle soup, a small plate of buttered rolls, and a glass of chilled juice upon it. The smell made his stomach growl again. Harry sat up straight, bringing the blanket down around him.

"Be careful," Severus said.

"Thank you," Harry signed. "Are you going to have anything?"

"I'm fine, you eat," Severus said. "I'm going to clean up in the lab if that's alright…"

Harry nodded quickly and the man left the sitting room and went into the hallway. Harry ate slowly, blowing on the spoonfuls of soup that tasted delicious. It was somewhat lonely eating alone however for the man hadn't left the potions lab at all and when he was finished eating, the dishes empty, he felt quite sleepy and nervous. He thought about what could be wrong with Severus, if anything or perhaps the man was just tired or busy with potions or something else, something he wasn't allowed to tell Harry…

He lay down again feeling all too comfortable, his eyes heavy and there was a heat in his cheeks and then he was asleep again.

* * *

Through the blurriness he could tell the man was sitting at the edge of the couch and he looked to be reading something or looking at something that he held in his hands. As sleep left his body completely he lifted himself on his elbow and found his glasses on the table, reached for them and put them on.

Severus sat there upon the couch and Harry realized that what he was looking at was one of his school notebooks, his Transfiguration notebook, at the many pages that were full of his ink drawings.

A sudden blush crept over his face and he sat up quickly, getting on his knees and coming close to Severus. The man was on the page where he had drawn Buckbeak, the hippogriff, a Golden Snitch, Hedwig, the classroom window, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall's hat…He must have already seen the handful of ink sketches Harry had done of the man and he was entirely embarrassed.

"As much as I prefer you listening during your classes…I must say…these are very good," Severus spoke with a gentle tone, that velvety voice making Harry's heart shiver, making it as if his very skin could feel that voice.

Harry's eyes wavered over his open school bag.

Severus looked up from the notebook, those black eyes on him now.

"You have talent," the man said softly.

Harry's blush deepened and he stared down at his hands that were on his knees, his legs folded under him.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to go through your notebook, I was just putting in the pages of notes you missed in my class today," Severus said.

Harry shook his head, pressing his lips together.

Severus closed the notebook slowly and placed it back in Harry's school bag. When the man turned to face him again Harry signed:

"Do you…really think they're good?"

"Of course I do, especially since no one really taught you how to draw," Severus answered lightly.

Harry lifted his eyes to stare into those dark pools.

"Thank you," he mouthed the words. "I like…drawing…"

Severus was silent and Harry realized his heart was pounding. Yes, he loved the man before him, truly…

"Do you feel better?" Severus asked, breaking the awkward silence that had just begun to settle around them.

Harry nodded. His eyes found the clock on the mantle and it was almost 8:30. He was so close to the man, close enough to touch him and he could feel his very body desiring to touch Severus and it was different somehow, as if he was more aware of just how much he wanted to feel the man. He wondered, because of what he did next, if he still had a fever, he wondered as his body moved almost on its own, if all of this might have been some foggy delusional dream.

He had come before Severus, his knees on both sides of the man's thighs, his back straight, his hands placed gently on the man's shoulders and now his eyes were lowered, looking down upon Severus's face that held not one emotion and yet those cavernous black eyes seemed to speak something mournful, something in a pleading sort of way, that quiet desperation that the man had mentioned before but that seemed so long ago and if only they could have been together for years in this moment, if only he could find that permanent thing wounded in these eyes.

His hands came away and there was no sound but their own breathing and the banging of his heart in his ears and his fingers undid every button of his cardigan, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, they pulled at his tie, stripping it off as well, and then his white collared shirt, button after button with shaky hands and arousal was pooling into his senses, drowning them, suffocating, sinking and sinking and he felt like he was falling just as the shirt fell to the floor atop his school bag. All the while those eyes were on him; those lips were together, unmoving and perfect. His heart was bursting as he blanketed Severus's lips with his own; his hands gliding up the man's chest, his fingertips tingled from the touch of the coat.

He didn't know how many times he had been greedy in his life but these kisses, they were full of greed and his hands, his brain wasn't controlling them, but they moved up and down, pressing, holding tight, placing themselves with such gentleness upon Severus's face as he kissed the man deeply, his tongue feeling the heat, tasting Severus's tongue, playing with it and he wanted to moan, he was hard already, his cheeks were ablaze with red, his eyes glossed over with longing and a carefulness.

He closed his eyes as he felt Severus's hands travel up the back of his thighs, strong and wonderful sensations rushed up into his chest and down to his groin; finally the man was touching him, finally he didn't have to worry why it seemed like the man was keeping some sort of distance from him. Maybe Severus had been ashamed of his jealousy or nervous still over it but Harry could hardly care since he had no such interest in anyone else, since his heart had already chosen…

Things went by in quick movements next. Severus had taken off his black overcoat and Harry had felt up the man's thighs, starting from his knees, gliding his palms down hard before moving his fingers inward to the man's groin. He felt the bulge in-between, felt the growing warmth there, the desire and his own erection was aching and he had begun to kiss the man's neck as Severus's hands were on his chest, feeling everywhere and there breathing had quickened in pace, becoming uneven and they kissed fervently, and then Severus's tight collar was undone and his dress shirt was open and Harry's trousers were unbuttoned and unzipped and pulled down until somehow they came off along with his boxers.

They were locked at the lips for a long moment and Harry felt the man's hot hand stroking his leaking member and Harry's own hands were on Severus's chest, traveling over the muscle, the feel of the man's stomach making him want to come even more and he didn't know how he could be this aroused when he had just felt ill this morning, how he could be thrusting up into that hand without feeling the embarrassment that was sure to come when all this was over, and if he had a voice in this moment he knew he would be letting out such loud sounds, sounds of pleasure and this pleasure was white hot, making him pant against the man's cheek.

And then he was moved onto his back, his knees up and his legs wrapped around the man's waist and Severus had opened his dress pants, tugging down his boxers to free the thick member that to Harry looked quite painful.

He let the cold air of the room and the warmth of the fire mix onto his skin and parts of him were sweating and the soft blanket underneath him created such heat upon his back. Severus was on top of him, close, crushingly close to be able to fit them somehow on the couch, and Harry's chin was pressed hard onto the man's shoulder, slipping against the fabric of the shirt, and he could feel how tightly his hands were on the man's back, how they gripped at the skin underneath the shirt, he could feel Severus's breath on the crook of his neck, could feel the man's hair, the scent of it burying in his nose, the light from the fire seemed to blind his eyes, making them tearful and he couldn't control his breathing, he could barely breathe, the man was heavy and so strong and their members were so slick against each other, thrusting, he could feel Severus's thrusting, was aware of the tight hold of a hand in his hair, an arm under his back now, and it was like they could be molded together, as one, by body heat, by shuddered breaths, by friction and sweat, by pleasurable sounds in his ears, the struggle of muscles gripping and constricting.

Harry was dizzy and he could feel the edge sweeping up and up, could feel the animalistic need to keep moving against the man's erection, he was so stimulated, so filled up with emotion, wondering how he could do this with another person, wondering how this act was so naked, so exposed and real and bearing; there was no shame or fear or regret, just attraction, just awareness, passion and deliberate affection, and somehow it was still gentle and kind and his heart was bursting and his lungs were empty and he held tightly to the body above…

The hot liquid spilled onto his skin, spilling down his sides and inner thighs and he had cried out mutely as Severus had hissed out a sound, a dragged out breath that was keeping back a moan and they stayed together for only seconds before Severus lifted himself up, Harry's legs slipping away from their hold, feeling weak and his vision was set on the darkness in the man's face, the color and the sweat on his forehead, the tiredness in those eyes, the black locks of hair that were slightly messy and the man was breathless.

"You're so wonderful…" Severus had whispered as his fingertips brushed through Harry's bangs. "Stunning…"

Harry had closed his eyes against the lightheadedness as Severus kissed him and then cleaned them up with a flick of his wand. Harry's skin missed the weight and the heat but he dressed himself a long with the man and all too quickly he was being walked back to Gryffindor Tower, his body shivering and he couldn't help but feel lonely when they had told each other good night, he couldn't help but feel that he should have asked Severus what was on his mind.

* * *

Tuesday dragged on through the morning and Harry had barely listened during Herbology. The cold in the greenhouses was biting and Hermione had been silent throughout the hour and a half and Ron ignored them both. Harry's mind was far off once again, thinking about his love for Severus and struggling with what to do because of it. What did he expect to happen? If Severus loved him too what could come of it? How could he even hope for such a thing? He found himself trying to believe that Severus could love him but a part of him was doubting it, a part of him that he didn't like was dead set on the answer to that question, that Severus couldn't love him, that a man like Severus just couldn't want a future like that.

Somewhere deep inside his heart, maybe at the bottom of that well, he wanted them to belong to each other.

What woke him up from his trance was Defense class. The 6th Year Gryffindors and 6th Year Ravenclaws were all meeting up in the Great Hall that once again had the long wooden tables and benches set aside to accommodate them all.

Royle was at the front of their group, dressed in a black vest with metal buttons over a dark gray dress shirt and black slacks. He had his wand in hand and was grinning at them all. Harry had not expected them to have a guest that morning. Tonks was standing next to Royle, smiling softly with her short mousy hair still. She was dressed in a black thin trench coat over a lightly rose colored corset, black tight pants and a pair of lace up boots.

"Alright, today class, we are going to be perfecting your Patronus Charms and working on your dueling skills again, nonverbally, of course," Professor Royle announced.

There was a small wave of groans throughout the crowd before the man. A jolt of panic hit Harry's body. He hadn't once tried to cast a Patronus Charm since he had become mute; he hadn't even gone over such a lesson with Severus at all. He began to hope that others would find it too difficult to cast the charm nonverbally.

"Now, I would like you all to meet Tonks, she will be helping me today with a demonstration after we are done with our lesson, she will assist you all with your Patronus Charms as well so be sure to pay attention," Royle said lightly and he had gestured to Tonks who gave everyone a small wave and grinned brightly at Harry when their eyes met.

After they had put their school bags on the tables the day's lesson went as Harry had expected it to go. Royle and Tonks had them all splitting up into groups where they first practiced a few defensive spells which Harry had done with ease but after a half an hour when it came to casting the Patronus Charm nonverbally no one was successful at first despite Tonk's loud instructions.

It was when everyone was red in the face from such concentration that Tonks had produced her own Patronus as an example. Harry had been standing next to Hermione, feeling aggravated and watching the sunlight that poured through the wide windows of the Hall, watching the golden effect it created on the wooden tables, not paying attention because he couldn't seem to make himself find a happy memory at the moment, feeling disappointed that he was too afraid to think of Severus to produce a Patronus Charm and then he saw the large four-legged creature of silver and blue wisps bound across the Great Hall, Tonk's Patronus and he was reminded of Sirius, of the big black dog that was the man's Animagus and his chest tightened.

He had never seen Tonk's Patronus before but it was strange that the memory of Sirius had risen in his mind so quickly at the sight of it. He lowered his eyes to the floor and heard the many awes let out by his class mates. He felt that melancholy emotion spreading through him, that grief, and wondered why Tonks looked different to him. Her bubbly, curious personality was not present. She seemed hardened and her smile was fake, she seemed miserable and the lack of bright color in her hair was proof of that. Was she really grieving too?

Harry ignored the chatter that followed, of Royle's voice telling them all to keep practicing, keep concentrating and they were free to speak the incantation if they liked. He held his wand limply in his right hand, thinking of his muteness and how it had changed him; how it had become a weakness to who he was, or who he used to be, but could he really regret it? Could he really hate it? When it had brought him to Severus, had changed them, had killed the hatred, had let him see the true face hidden behind the bitter scowls, had surfaced such a gentle, velvet-like voice from under all that shouting, from that quiet degradation, insults that he could still remember, the time where he had screamed at Harry the night that he had helped Sirius escape the Dementor's Kiss…

At the end of the lesson Royle and Tonks dueled. Their nonverbal duel was almost spectacular and so very fast and Harry had not expected it from Tonks since she was just as clumsy as himself but she was an Auror after all, she had that skill and Harry watched the fluid like motions of their wands and their arms, of how fast shield charms were produced, how swiftly curses flew and everyone seemed inspired, especially Neville who couldn't take his eyes off the two of them.

Royle, he was amazing and sometimes he smiled, not a smirk or grin, but a smile and Harry could see that kindness that Luna had mentioned more so than ever and when they were done they bowed and everyone clapped but him.

He felt breathless, overwhelmed, he felt like he was running out of time, like the more time that passed, the more days that went by, finding his voice seemed more difficult than ever and he needed his voice, he needed it to be able to say those words, those three words…

"Harry."

Harry flinched and he turned to face Hermione who was looking at him with worry filled eyes.

"We're done, we need to leave so Royle can put the tables in order," Hermione said softly. "Are you alright…you look as if…well…"

"I'm fine…" Harry signed.

"We should talk later," Hermione didn't say but signed to him before grabbing up her school bag. Harry nodded and picked up his school bag.

As he was leaving in the group of his class he heard someone call to him:

"Harry!"

Harry turned as Tonks stepped up to him and behind her Royle was standing by Dumbledore's podium, waving his wand and the tables were lifting themselves up.

"I thought we could talk, Molly wanted me to see how you were doing," she said and Harry stared at her, she was taller than him, not by too much but he had to look up slightly to meet her eyes.

Harry nodded. The next thing he knew they had wondered off to the courtyard which was empty and they both sat on a cold stone bench in front of the fountain. Harry took out his notepad and pen, feeling strange because he had not used it in a while to speak to others.

"I'm sorry, I am trying to learn but I'm a bit busy with patrol duty and you know, Order stuff," she said.

Harry wrote quickly:

_Don't be sorry, you don't have to learn, I didn't even expect anyone else to learn really…_

He had held the notepad out to her and she nodded softly as she read his message. She was sitting at his left; he could see the faint gloss of her light lipstick and her soft purple eye shadow.

"Are you alright?" Tonks asked with a gentle tone and she had folded her legs, holding her knees with her laced hands.

Harry nodded and wrote:

_I just get a bit down when I think about what happened too much and it gets frustrating because I can't talk._

Tonks read his words and nodded once, slowly.

"I can't imagine how that must feel…must be maddening," she said and she cast her eyes to the ground and Harry felt cold. "I never told you…but…I'm sorry, really sorry for what happened…and I know I can't tell you anything that will make you feel better but we worry about you, I worry…" Tonks gave him a somewhat sad half smile. "It's painful…but you're strong, Harry, I've always saw that in you, he did too of course, I'm sure you've heard that before…"

Harry didn't write anything down; he just sat still, staring down at his notepad.

"Harry…one day, one day when you hear his voice inside your head, it won't make you sad," Tonks was saying and he caught the uncertainty in it, caught the kindness and truth, "…you'll smile instead…You're strong, Harry…I know that day will come for you…"

Harry could feel the prickling sting in his eyes and he swallowed the lump in his throat and he wrote with a shaking hand:

_You remind me of Remus._

Because she did, she reminded him of that day all those months ago in that circle of chairs, the circle of trust, where Remus Lupin had told him something quite similar to her words.

And Tonks let out a laugh, short and small but it lifted his mood somehow. He waited a moment as the wind around them was cold and he could see his breath, could smell the autumn air, knew how much he missed the scents that summer would bring around the castle and he wrote slowly:

_Is it because of Sirius? Is that what's effecting your Metamorphosing? _

He remembered how Tonks had been the one dueling Bellatrix but he had to stop himself, he didn't want to go further into that memory. He knew it wasn't Tonks's fault, could never even begin to be her fault; if it weren't for Harry that forsaken night no one would have needed rescuing.

"I feel guilty…"

The way she said it wasn't in a sorrowful way at all, it was more of an embarrassed tone and Harry looked to her quickly and she was giving him a tiny smile, almost sheepish.

"Did you think my Patronus was Sirius?" she said.

Harry's expression grew confused.

"Did you know that a Patronus can change from its first form?" Tonks asked quietly.

Harry shook his head slowly. He hadn't known that could be possible.

"Well, it can," Tonks said. "When a person experiences something like a great shock or…a sudden emotional upheaval…it can change your Patronus to reflect that emotion…"

Harry lowered his eyes to stare at his hands. He was still confused. If her Patronus wasn't Sirius's Animagus…

_What was your emotional upheaval? _Harry wrote, having a hard time trying to figure out the sentence so he settled for repeating what she had said.

"Well…" Tonks began but looked down at her folded hands and closed her eyes, letting out a small laugh again. "Love…I'm in love…"

Harry didn't know why heat had risen to his cheeks as he heard her say it.

"I'm sorry…I don't know why I would tell you that," Tonks said quickly. "It's silly…"

Harry wrote quickly:

_Who are you in love with? _

"You can't guess?" Tonks said almost slyly.

Harry waited and before it came to him her index finger of her right hand pointed to a word he had written already, a name: _Remus. _

And Harry's heart beat sped up justly as he stared down at the man's name. Tonks was in love with Remus Lupin. Harry hesitated as she moved her finger away before he wrote:

_Does he know? Have you told him? _

Harry wondered if it was any of his business, it probably wasn't but something inside of him was begging to know what had happened if she had told Remus how she felt.

"He knows…I've told him already…" Tonks said and let out a sigh.

Harry wrote in haste:

_What happened?_

"He rejected me…" Tonks said softly.

Harry's expression fell in disappointment.

"I know he feels the same way," Tonks said suddenly.

Harry lifted his head at those words.

"He said he was too old for me…that he was poor and too dangerous…he said "What kind of life could I give you?"" Tonks spoke calmly and she looked at Harry. "I said I didn't care, it didn't matter. It was easy to look past things like that…when you love a person…But he thinks I could do better…"

And he had never connected with her in this way before, they never really talked to each other this way but Harry was thankful for it because he was sort of in a similar situation, slightly, and he hadn't confessed his love like she had done.

"Sorry…You're kind of easy to talk to Harry, well, you're closer to my age than Molly is," Tonks said.

_I don't mind, we are friends and it's nice to listen to someone else's problems. I'm usually doing the opposite. What will you do now? _

She read what he had written and replied:

"Wait I guess, till he comes around, it's the only thing I can do, and keep pestering him about it." Tonks smiled and Harry smiled with her.

She stood up, grinning truly and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Take care of yourself, Harry," Tonks said with genuineness.

Harry watched as she turned and left and he sat for a long moment on the bench before heading off to have lunch.

* * *

All he could do was stare at her brown high heels rather than look into her dark green eyes, waiting for her to speak, to engage in this session before he did because he didn't want to be the one to start it. She wore thin dark green robes today, her nails painted with that gloss, white at the tips, her hair up in a ponytail. She was writing something down upon her clipboard. Harry slumped further in his chair.

It was Wednesday morning and his head felt too full, he felt stressed and just couldn't work out any of his thoughts and he was worried. He had had a lesson with Severus last night, it had gone normally but Harry didn't tell the man about practicing the Patronus Charm or that Tonks had stopped to talk to him and when they had their tea Severus didn't talk much, in fact, he was still being distant with Harry. It made him feel horrible and Harry had no idea why the man was acting like that.

Harry had even tried to pleasure the man, finding the boldness he needed to kiss Severus and he had wanted to get on his knees and perform that act but Severus had stopped him, had laid Harry down, pushing up his uniform shirt, pulling down his pants and Harry had watched as the man sucked him off instead. He honestly didn't know what to feel because of that and it was starting to scare him and he didn't know why. All of it was too much for him to gather, to focus on and he couldn't confront Severus about it, he just wanted things to go back to how they were when they had first gotten together, when the man would smile at him…

"Harry," Ms. Gardiner called softly.

Harry looked up and sat up in his chair. Being in Dumbledore's office didn't help the stress he felt; it just reminded him that Dumbledore had not asked to see him in a long time, not since Sirius's will.

"I know you must be growing impatient, it's been four months," Ms. Gardiner said with a soft tone. "Is there anything you want to tell me? Or ask me?"

Harry sat there and he felt bad that he was being somewhat difficult, she was just trying to help him, like always but how could anyone understand what he was going through? His situation was at most unique but mostly just bizarre. Should he tell her that he was in love? It wasn't something he should be focusing on, they were here to focus on Sirius, on Harry's guilt, on his grief and yet all Harry could think about was that he was trying to understand the love he felt, wondering if he should even try to understand it.

He looked her over. She was beautiful. He thought about Royle, of how he had said the two of them had been in love, how he had asked her to marry him. Ms. Gardiner had been in love before…but her love was understandable, acceptable, common…

"What do you feel about Royle?" Harry signed without meaning to.

"Uh…Harry, that's…Why would you ask me that?" Ms. Gardiner said and her expression held an uneasiness but she was still smiling.

Harry lowered his eyes, feeling embarrassed and really foolish.

"I don't know…I'm curious," he signed and it was the simple truth.

Ms. Gardiner looked down at her clipboard.

"Well…that's honest," Ms. Gardiner said and her eyes were on Harry's. "So I'll be honest…It's very complicated, what I feel toward Li…toward Professor Royle…"

"You loved him, right?" Harry signed, his hands were trembling softly.

Ms. Gardiner's eyes seemed to darken and Harry knew he had already crossed a line, that it was really none of his business but he needed to know, he needed to know what love did to people…

"I did…yes," Ms. Gardiner said and her voice was low, pleasantly kind but there was a silent sorrow, trying to hide itself.

"But there's something about him, right? Something that's keeping you apart? Something bad or wrong, a secret…" Harry's hands felt numb.

"_Harry…_" Ms. Gardiner said. "We don't…have time for such a…topic…I understand your curiosity but…"

"I'm sorry…" was all he signed and he was looking down, a deep blush in his cheeks. What was wrong with him? How could he tell her things like that? That was too personal. Why did he need to know? He just didn't know what to do with this love; it felt so alive inside of him, like a storm, a monstrous storm at sea, raging and vicious and powerful.

"Do you want to talk about love, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner said softly. "The love you had for your godfather?"

Harry's hands gripped at his knees and his heart felt like it was being pinched, that deep, bottomless ache seemed to scrape at his chest cavity.

"I know it's awful, unbearable…to lose someone you love, loved dearly," Ms. Gardiner spoke and her voice entered him like a careful melody and he could smell her perfume. "I know you must think…why must they go, why must they leave you behind…I know you feel regret, you feel that guilt, you think it's your fault…but it was an accident, Harry…and he died…fighting for what he always fought for, what you always fight for, what is good, what is right, protecting you…You were the same in the way you felt, and you loved him…I'm sure you understand…just how far love can go…"

Harry felt the light tremors that were coursing through his body, could feel the hot tears in his eyes and he looked up at her.

"I didn't want him to die that way…" Harry signed. "Not for me…not because of me…why did it have to be because of me?" He stood up, shaking, feeling such a sudden anger stab at his body, at his insides.

"It's fine Harry, keep going," was all Ms. Gardiner said.

He glared at her, tears building up in his eyes and falling, face reddening, throat aching and body shivering.

"I never got to tell him…that I loved him…that I needed him…" Harry signed forcibly, shutting his eyes tightly.

"Keep your eyes closed, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said calmly.

"I don't even remember…I can't remember the last words he said to me…" Harry signed and he couldn't breathe. "I don't want to remember him…"

"But you have to remember him, Harry, listen to me," Ms. Gardiner's tone was controlled. "You have to be able to see him, clearly, imagine him with you…"

"It hurts too much to do that…I can't do it…" it was getting difficult to sign, difficult to keep his eyes closed.

"Yes you can, think of him, Harry, think of him, it's ok to think of him," her voice seemed so far away and Harry's breath was hitched and the pain in his chest was unbelievable.

"You can see him, he's with you, what do you want to say to him…what do you want to say to him, Harry?"

And Sirius was in his mind, standing before him in that room and the man's voice echoed, the distant memories of when he had hoped, had believed, that such happiness could be forever, that times like this could remain endless, that there would be no such thing as fear, and he always knew that a part of him had kept Sirius living, had made him want to live, that a part of him wanted to live for his godfather, to grow up under those eyes, those watchful eyes, to have such a man to follow, to lead him in this life…

_What can I say to you? You're already dead…you could never hear me…_

And he could hear Sirius's voice as if he were standing right beside him, like the night he fell through the Veil, vanishing, and yet the sun had risen, and yet he was still able to breathe…

_"I want you to take the others and get out of here." _

"_What? No, I'm staying with you!"_

"_You've done…beautifully. Now let me take it from here."_

_I should have told you I was sorry…_

It was as if he couldn't feel the ground underneath him and blood was rushing past his ears, flowing, and things were spinning and the air could not reach his lungs.

"_When all this is over we'll be a proper family. You'll see."_

_I'm sorry…Sirius…I'm so sorry…_

But no matter what the words would not leave his lips and then his godfather's image washed away and he could feel himself falling like the earth was swallowing him, down, down into darkness, the light of dawn smearing into nothing and her voice called him and then he knew nothing else…

* * *

He was awake but his eyes remained closed and he heard rising voices that he recognized:

"What were you having him do!?"

It was Severus.

"It's just the exercise we've been working on, it's very challenging…"

It was Ms. Gardiner.

"Challenging? The boy fainted! His nose was bleeding!"

"It's hard for him, but he's trying, he just pushed himself too far…"

"To the point of collapsing! Whatever it is you are making him do it ends now, do you understand me?"

"Lower your voices, _please_."

It was Madame Pomfrey's voice that hissed at them.

"Really, Professor Snape, there is no reason to shout," Ms. Gardiner said in a quieter voice but it was still forceful.

"I cannot believe your carelessness," Severus snapped. "Whatever this exercise is…it's _unhealthy_, it's detrimental."

"It is not, it's a very general practice, it's like hypnosis," Ms. Gardiner said tightly. "And it's working…for the most part; it just takes time, especially with the disorder he has…It's a slow progression…"

"Progression? So I can expect_ this_ to happen again? I will not allow...!"

"Severus, your _voice_," Madame Pomfrey said and her voice had risen justly.

He heard the man let out an annoyed breath.

"It's stressful, that part of the exercise is unavoidable," Ms. Gardiner said calmly. "I am sorry, but it's going to take a lot out of him no matter what…Harry is very empathetic, it's just his nature…Perhaps it could be easier for him if you might take some time to talk more with him, it's helpful if others are willing to listen to him other than myself, he needs emotional release, if he doesn't have that then all of this will just grow more and more difficult for him…"

Severus was silent and it was then that Harry opened his eyes. He knew he was in the Hospital Wing, he was aware that he had lost consciousness but he didn't know for how long. The sun was bright in the ward and Madame Pomfrey was tending to another boy who was asleep a few beds away from Harry's bed and Severus and Ms. Gardiner were standing in front of each other, their eyes locked and darkened.

Harry sat up slowly, feeling very dizzy and shivery. The man had noticed this movement right away and turned quickly to face Harry and walked to his bedside with swift strides.

"How are you feeling? You collapsed during your session," Severus said.

"I know…" Harry signed. He looked to Ms. Gardiner whose eyes had worry in them and a bit of relief. "I'm fine…You don't need to argue…it's not her fault…"

Severus didn't respond to this. Ms. Gardiner came to the other side of the bed and took his hand gently.

"You did well, Harry…I want you to know that," she said kindly. "I am sorry, I know how much of a struggle it is…but you'll be fine…I have to go, you just rest ok? I will see you next week, please rest."

Harry nodded slowly and then she turned to look at Severus and then she was heading toward the doors.

Harry kept his eyes on his hands, pulling at the ends of his uniform sweater and as he was looking down he noticed the small blotches of dried blood on the sweater. His nose had bled. He knew people could get nosebleeds from stress or overworking their bodies…had he really been that stressed that morning?

"What happened?" Severus almost whispered.

Harry didn't look at the man as he signed:

"I have to picture my godfather…alive…and I'm with him…Ms. Gardiner says I really have to concentrate…I have to make it real…I have to say what I want to say to him…" Harry remembered how he had tried to use the voice in his head, had heard him speak the words of his apology. "It's torture…to remember him…I thought it was getting easier…but it's not…I keep seeing him disappear…and my voice just won't work…" He could feel the itchiness in his eyes, he had cried in front of her again. "I said I was sorry to him…I was sorry I fell for that trap…I guess…it just wasn't the right words…" Harry bit his lip and then looked to Severus. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do…It's like…I can't move forward…What if my voice is gone, what if its gone forever?"

"It's not, Harry, don't think that way," Severus said quickly. "You can't force yourself; you have to take it slow…"

"I'm sorry," Harry signed, feeling very much defeated. "I'm bothering you with this, and you've been…busy…"

"I'm here for you," Severus said and that velvet tone sunk into Harry's heart. "I would never want you to feel like this…I wish I could make it better for you…"

Harry's eyes looked over the man's face, that composed concern, those black eyes looking more tired than Harry had seen them previously. Why wasn't the man sleeping enough?

"Are you ok?" Harry signed. "You look like you haven't slept…"

"I'm fine…I've just been…busy," Severus said and his eyes looked away from Harry's. "I'm afraid I must go, I have a class at the moment…If you do not feel well enough you can miss my class, you need to rest…"

Harry nodded.

"I will see you tonight…" Severus said softly.

Harry nodded once more and he watched the man go and his heart felt like it was sinking because he knew the man was not "fine", Severus was lying, he was avoiding something and Harry feared it greatly.

He went to Potions that day and it was an hour and half of Severus lecturing, informing them all briefly of the history of Potion Masters of the world and at the end of the class they were all assigned an essay to research a given potion, who had first created it and a short biography on its creator. Harry had taken his notes with much disinterest. He should have just steered the conversation he had with Ms. Gardiner that morning in a very different direction, maybe he should have talked about art, about his drawings…something much less miserable.

When class was dismissed Harry didn't hang around to converse with Severus. He chose to leave with Hermione who had been worried over Harry after he had told her what had happened during his session and he led her to the Room of Requirement where they sat on the cushions again, facing each other.

"What's been bothering you?" Hermione asked, getting straight to the point.

Harry felt hesitant and somewhat embarrassed but he had to tell someone, otherwise he'd go mad.

"I found out something…" Harry signed. "And don't think that I'm rubbing it in, ok?"

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione pressed.

Harry felt his heart flutter and a heat trickled up to his cheeks and he felt slightly pathetic or dramatic, whatever one fit the occasion and he wondered if Tonks had felt like this, wondered how she could have such a bravery to confess her feelings so strongly.

"I love him…I'm in love with him," Harry signed with quaking hands.

"Well…that's good, isn't it?" Hermione said slowly, her eyes unblinking.

"I don't know…" Harry signed, feeling such apprehensiveness in his body. "I don't know if he loves me…What if he doesn't love me? I don't know what to do!" He shook his head, feeling almost frantic.

"Harry…you should know what the only thing you can do is," Hermione said, leaning forward as she was sitting on her knees.

"What's that?" Harry asked in sign even though he already knew the dreaded answer:

"You have to tell him…you have to confess," Hermione said with serene eyes.

"But…if he did love me…wouldn't he have said so by now?" Harry signed and his lips shook as he mouthed the words.

"I can't say, Harry…I don't know if he's that kind of a person…" she said, folding her hands upon her lap.

"But I can't do it, I just can't, I know I can't…" Harry signed quickly.

"You have to try at least…I mean, things are ok with you two, right?" Hermione said.

"Yes…Well…something seems a bit off with him lately…he's been…quiet…" Harry signed, lowering his eyes.

"Are you still…intimate?" Hermione said in almost a whisper.

Harry nodded once.

"Has he tried…to…have sex with you yet?" she asked slowly and a light blush fell over her cheeks.

"No…" Harry signed. "I mean…"

"You do know…how men…do _that_…right?" Hermione said, her eyes widened a bit when she had said "that".

"Of course I do, it's obvious," Harry signed, narrowing his eyes and his jaw was clenched and his face was burning with embarrassment.

"I think you really should talk to him about it, about how you feel…" Hermione said. "I know Snape's an adult and…most likely has experience…but…he might be feeling…unsure…because he is a teacher and you're a student and sex is…a big deal…"

"But we've done other things that are definitely…prohibited," Harry signed.

"Yes but…you said it yourself…You'd have to be in love or you wouldn't do it, right?" she said with a tenseness in her voice.

"Right…" Harry signed.

"You have to tell him how you feel, communication is key to any working relationship," Hermione said.

Harry nodded but he didn't know if he had it in him. There were so many things he wished to know about Severus but it all seemed so forbidden and he couldn't understand why.

He could barely concentrate on his food at dinner; he was feeling very anxious and Hermione kept glancing up at him and then to Severus who was finally having a meal at the Staff table. Harry couldn't bring himself to look at the man; whatever was wrong with Severus was unnerving him. He envied everyone around him who all chatted about like normal, he wished to have that content, to not have to worry about so many things, to not have to feel responsible for their lives…

Severus met him outside the Great Hall after Harry was finished eating. But rather than make their way to the 7th Floor the man led him to his office. Harry wanted to sigh. He knew he should be practicing no matter if he was already excelling with nonverbal spells; his speed wasn't up to par to Severus's own of course though for some spells he could cast right away, even under the pressure of a duel. He kept his thoughts to himself though as he entered the man's personal quarters.

It almost surprised him as his robes were removed and he heard Severus hang them up and he wrapped his arms around Harry, strong hands over his chest, pressing against the firmness of it. He could feel his back against the man's front, the racing heat through his body and all Harry could think in this moment was that all he had been doing these past few days was trying to understand this man.

He could interpret or read Severus's emotions through the man's actions as if he was better at expressing the way he felt through physical interaction rather than words even if the man was so very good with words.

And yet he could believe that Severus really did have a difficult time in freeing such profound feelings, feelings that were heavy on one's soul, emotions that drove a person's will to the ground and he could only wish or beg that Severus would be able to open up to him somehow because they were together, in some sort of relationship; didn't Harry deserve such a thing? Didn't he deserve to know what was behind those black pools?

He could remember that months ago he didn't care much to know anything real about Severus however now, this distant feeling he was getting from the man, it was making him desperate to know things. But in the back of his mind or somewhere very far down inside him there was that tiny awareness, that he had to admit, as long as Severus would continue to hold him this way, as long as they would stay together, he could accept not knowing, and really considering how his life had been up till now, he was more than grateful for what he did have…

And it was so quiet that Harry could feel the liveliness of the man's heart and he thought about the way Severus had spoken that Saturday night, how he had never heard his voice in that way, how he had delved into that voice, a certain part of his body needing more of it, more sensations, he wanted to reveal every way the man could sound…He wondered if that was selfish of him…

"There just isn't enough time for the two of us, is there?" Severus's lips were next to his ear, whispering with a lithe tenderness and a shiver went up Harry's spine.

Harry really didn't know what the man's words meant even though what he said was true; he just couldn't comprehend why Severus had said it. Harry was still, caught up in the scent of the man's cologne and the warmth between them before the long lasting embrace was over and without looking at Harry the man led him by the hand to the bedroom.

If only he could say the things he needed to say, if only he could speak, let his voice free from the chains of guilt and regret and grief, of pain, of suffering, if only he could stop this person, the person who his heart belonged to, the person who he loved, this beloved being, if he could just stop how this body controlled him, guided him when he had no direction to begin with, if he just had any power against those hands…then maybe he could have been brave enough to ask questions, to talk about things that should matter.

But he had no resistance; he was just floating, like clouds through soft gusts of the earth's winds. Because what this man did to him, what he made him feel, was like the force that kept the world spinning, that made the sun set and the moon rise, a certain gravitation on his heart, a positive force of nature, a simple rotation of touch and sensation, of push and pull, and he had no idea of how it was possible to feel this way.

And they were on the man's bed, shoes off, and Harry had watched the man take off his robes and overcoat, loosen his shirt collar, and now he was under that body and Severus was kissing him, a hot tongue going into his mouth, and it was slow, perhaps the slowest they had ever kissed, Harry didn't know. The man kissed along his neck, biting gently, sucking, trailing his tongue across where his pulse was and the heat in his body was boiling and his muscles were trembling, the arousal was easily spreading to every inch of him.

Severus's left hand brought his uniform sweater up along with his uniform shirt, pushing it all the way to reveal his stomach, chest and nipples. Severus was on his hands and knees, hovering over Harry's body, leaning in to kiss his neck again as Harry shut his eyes tightly, he was feeling more embarrassed than anything for some reason. Maybe it was because the room was brightly lit, maybe because he had felt enough for one day, or maybe Severus just looked very striking tonight; the way his form fitting dress shirt was tucked in, he was fit, fitter than Harry, that was obvious, and the muscles in his thighs looked tight against the fabric of his dress pants, whatever it was it made him feel breathless, made his cheeks as red as can be, his lips darkened and shined.

Severus's finger was circling around his right nipple and Harry shivered from the sensual feeling it gave his body.

"You're hard already," Severus said blatantly.

Harry opened his eyes barely and the light from the room was reflected like specs of diamonds in them. The man's hair was outlined with the lamp's light, that black shining. Every part of the man was making his member throb with yearning and he felt so foolish.

Severus teased his nipple, making it hard, bringing a bright red color to the soft pink.

"Your body is so sensitive to touch," the man said and there was that light trace of seductiveness attached to every word. "Does this feel good?" The man was rubbing his finger over the perked nub.

Harry's chest was rising and falling with his increasing breath. His hands held onto the sheets, feeling the coolness to them, letting them be some sort of relief from the heat in his limbs. He nodded. Severus's fingers of his left hand began to trace down Harry's chest and his muscles quivered underneath those warm fingertips.

"I like your body," Severus said gently, "I enjoy how it reacts to my touch…and how much pleasure I can give to it…" The man's fingers were tracing a wide circle over his stomach and Harry held his breath. "It's a relief…to know that no one else has touched you in this way…"

Harry tried not to move, tried to keep his legs straight but he couldn't stop the small thrust his hips gave, his erection was painful now and just the movement of it against the cotton of his boxers felt good and the man's voice was torturing him, that glossy velvet, that vibration he could almost feel.

"I take pleasure in watching you like this…" that voice said and Harry let out a shuddered breath. "So eager, so ready…and submissive…" Harry's eyes lifted to stare into that rich black and that face was so composed, that stare so refined. "You're trembling…I can feel the heat in your skin…You're stunning…" Severus leaned in once more, his lips against Harry's ear and Harry couldn't breathe. "Seeing you so embarrassed…" he whispered and as those fingertips traced further down, "it makes me want you even more…" And Harry felt the flick of the man's finger as his trousers were unbuttoned.

Severus started to kiss Harry once more with a touch more of vigor in time with pulling his zipper down.

_How…how can you say all these things…with a face like that...? How can you speak that way without feeling any embarrassment…any at all? _Harry's thoughts seemed to drift up in his mind through the fog of heavy arousal.

"How do you want me to pleasure you, Harry?" Severus had come away from their kissing, sitting on his knees, his hands upon Harry's thighs. "Tell me…"

Harry could hardly think straight as he was looking up at the man but there was no room in his body to feel that sort of shame, his erection was begging for attention and he felt his lips move numbly, shaking slightly as his hands stayed at his sides.

"Your hands…" He pressed his lips together, vision wavering over the man's face. "Touch me…please…" The words were silent but they were understood by those black eyes.

He shut his eyes tightly, feeling the fire in his face, the slight perspiration on his forehead. His inner thighs felt so hot. He wanted those hands on him, needed them, those hands that played the piano so brilliantly, that treated fine objects with such a strong delicacy…

Severus's left hand slipped away from Harry's thigh, across the fabric of his trousers and it fell over the tight bulge and Harry's back arched as he pressed against that hand, his jaw clenching. The man began to rub it, up and down and Harry let out gentle gasp, his body felt such scorching heat. But the man's hand came away and Harry opened his eyes quickly.

"Lie on your side," Severus said gently.

Harry did so, turning his body to his right and the sudden movement made his boxers rub against his aching member again. His necklace had slid down, the metal tickling his skin. He brought his knees up somewhat, resting his head against the sheets and he could smell the clean linen, could feel the small tremors in his body.

Severus laid next to him, behind him so that Harry couldn't see the man's face but he was close and Harry could feel how his body fit well with the man's own, the back of his head against Severus's chest, the man's left thigh pressing against his own thighs. He liked how broad the man's chest was, how Severus's body was taller and bigger than his own, and he couldn't help but feel safe and it brought him more embarrassment.

He felt the man come closer, his left hand coming to rest upon his chest and Harry curled up slightly, shutting his eyes as those fingertips played with his nipple, pinching gently. Harry had moved his arms up somewhat in reaction to this and his hands tugged at the pillow above his head.

"I enjoy being this close to you…" Severus said in a whisper. "To feel you against me…How does it feel to you?" The man's hand was rubbing his erection again, palming it, squeezing it gently. His voice was above Harry, the man's right hand had come to hold Harry's own justly, his slender fingers caught under Harry's own. "Do you ever think it's strange? Do you ever think badly of me?"

Harry's heart was banging hard in his chest and his eyes broadened at these words.

"Can you really stand to be this close to me?" Severus whispered and it was barely audible. Harry had to listen hard, had to hold his breath to hear the man's voice. "I was so cruel to you…so ugly…You hated me…Is it selfish of me…to ignore that…? Is it wrong?" Harry felt the man's lips kiss his fingers and it was such a light touch but it made his lips part, made his eyes stay open wide as he listened to such words. "I want to be with you…" The man's hand slipped under his boxers, slowly and Harry swallowed hard, his thighs twitching, toes curling. "I want to fill you up with these words…so they can erase that cruelty…that degradation…I wish you could forget that part of me…"

Harry's heart was stunned, his mind very blank and his body trembling against the man's own. And Severus's lips were kissing his middle finger of his right hand, his tongue circling around it slowly, and Harry bit his lip when the man began to suck upon it.

_Why? Why are you mixing me up like this? It's agony…to feel this good…when you're saying things like that…Why? I don't…understand you…_

Harry shut his eyes as he felt the man's teeth graze against his finger and the hand that was down his pants had began to stroke his member and it was slick against Severus's hold, heating up entirely, hard and too responsive.

"It's wet…" Severus said in that velvety tone, his breath against Harry's finger, making it feel cold.

Harry blushed deeper at those words, curling his body up even more. His breathing had become ragged as Severus pumped him, the speed of it growing.

"You're going to come already…" Severus said.

Harry let out the few silent moans, his body in such a fevered pleasure and he felt dizzy. Severus's right hand had moved down between them, over Harry's arse, rubbing up and down, pushing between Harry's thighs and Severus stopped stroking Harry's member. Harry felt the need to cry out. He had been so close. His stomach was clenching in anticipation.

"Does this feel good?" Severus said.

Harry was going to shake his head in frustration but then he felt that hand over his arse, felt the fingertips pressing through the fabric of his trousers, pressing hard against a certain spot, making a circling, rubbing motion.

Harry was stunned again; his eyes moving about to see what was in front of him but all his mind and body could concentrate on was the new sensation his body was feeling in such a spot. He stayed as still as he could be as he felt those fingers circling and then pressing. He had never been touched there before and only a short amount of time ago he never thought anything sensual could happen in that area of his body though he was much more informed now, aware that was where men who liked other men enjoyed being pleasured, that was how they had sex…

He was breathing hard as those fingertips rubbed, massaged that area and it did feel good to him, it sent pleasurable sensations throughout his body, made his abdomen tighten, made that tiny, ashamed, hormonal part of him want his trousers and boxers off so he could feel those fingertips on his skin, where that spot was, maybe even feel what it was like to have something _inside _him…

Severus began to stroke his member once more and Harry could feel that something was spilling out, giving the man's hand more lubrication, making it wetter and slicker and Harry's embarrassment was being shattered by those fingertips that were rubbing hard over that spot, pressing in and he was gasping out in pleasure, his back arching on its own, his hands gripping at the sheets, his face flushed. He could hear that hand working on his erection and his heartbeat was hammering in his ears.

"Harry, come for me," Severus said with that velvet weighted down by seduction. It really wasn't fair.

Harry let out a long, mute moan, his eyes shut tight and all he could feel was that blinding pleasure as he came, spilling out against the man's hand, feeling the unbearable heat in his chest and face, gasping for breath as he kept his eyes closed, his whole body was quivering and warm, random parts of him reacting to the air in the room, twitching and soothing. His head felt lighter than ever, he felt spent for energy and yet he loved every second that past after is orgasm even though the man's hands were off him, even though Severus was silent now.

He shivered when the hot substance vanished from his skin as he was cleaned of it with that spell. He watched with half open, dazed eyes as it disappeared from the sheets. He felt Severus's hand brush his bangs across his forehead, felt the man's lips kiss his face. He felt so tired so suddenly, felt drained of everything, felt his beating heart come to a calm rest in moments. Severus was gone from his side but Harry didn't move, he couldn't move, life seemed to have stilled in these minutes afterward, time seemed to have stopped working.

He was so deeply in love with him. Tears were in his eyes. He knew why he felt like crying, knew why the brush of red still lived in his cheeks.

Because this love, ever so slowly, was trickling down into the deep, deep well that was in his heart, that endless fall, that ripped hole.

What would happen if a love like this filled up that hole?

_Do you love me? _

Maybe he had been asking that question long before now.

* * *

The following days Harry had started to feel very detached from his surroundings. He went around, following his normal schedule, not really seeing what was in front of him. He'd find himself staring at anything without knowing what he was looking at. He'd stare at Ron and Lavender and their continuous, dreadful snogging, he'd stare at Hermione while she studied, he'd stare at Ginny who would realize it and stare back, smiling, he'd stare at Dumbledore and all the while he wouldn't think of a single thing besides Severus and who Severus was, the man's life, what his timeline was like, he'd even go as far as to remember how the 15 year old Severus had been.

He would daydream for minutes on end in class or mindlessly draw something in his notebook. He was hopeless and he was afraid that he was running out of time and there were too many things to fix, too much to do, and he'd try to understand where he was in all of this, what he was doing, why was he doing it, why him? Why did he have to be the Chosen One? Why had his heart chosen Severus Snape? Why did he have no control over his body, his soul? And he never wanted to believe in fate, not without question anyway, but he found himself asking if he belonged with this man, they couldn't be meant for each other, it was impossible, it was delusional…

He thought about love. More so than he had in his entire life.

Was it really so powerful? It had to be. His mother's love had saved his life, lived in his very body, invisible upon his skin, and sometimes, sometimes in the dreams he was having of her more and more, he could actually feel the way she had loved him.

Could love come from hate? Would he ever be able to say those words to Severus or was he doomed to be so cowardly, so afraid to know the answers to the questions that haunted them. These thoughts were dangerous, he felt like he was in danger. The things he did throughout the day seem to sweep passed him in a blur, meals, Quidditch practice, classes, homework, his lessons with Severus.

Then he'd wake up to find he was being kissed, to realize Severus was touching him, or how on Friday night his hands moved without him telling them to, not listening to the man's words as he was on Severus's lap again as he sat on the couch, he had touched the man, had gotten on his knees, had taken the man's hard member out, had opened his mouth, and pleasured Severus till the man came.

He had wondered why Severus hadn't wanted to be pleasured, had begun to protest but the words had stopped, like they were caught in the man's throat when Harry would look straight into those black pools, when he would forget about embarrassment, when he had realized the man had done nothing to please himself in time with Harry the past two nights, and it bothered him. So that night he had refused to be the only one, that night Harry had noticed a change in the man's eyes, that night he finally admitted to himself that he had tried to lie to his own eyes, had tried to tell himself that Severus was alright, that they were fine, but the man hadn't played the piano for him at all that week.

It had rained over the weekend, heavy sleet hitting the windows of the castle without mercy and Harry had stayed in the library with Hermione, not mentioning much, not bothering to say that he had been wondering why Cormac McLaggen had been hanging around the girl still. It had been a boring 2 days of essay writing and studying, of hiding from buoyant girls that wished for whatever reason to be his girlfriend, always remembering to pour his own drink at the Gryffindor Table because he had caught Romilda Vane's stare more times than he could stomach.

He realized something with a drop of annoyance and a pang of guilt: he missed being friends with Ron. By now people had noticed the rift that had come between them and Seamus and Neville seemed to have enough tact to not mention it to him because they also realized that Ron and Hermione were not on speaking terms either.

Harry missed playing chess with the boy, missed their brotherly bond but they were stubborn and Lavender Brown seemed to be the force that was keeping them apart. She'd give Harry looks now and then, even at Hermione who would grit her teeth and bear it.

Harry had to ignore _The Daily Prophet _even though everyone's noses were in it. He didn't want to read about murder or scandals in the Ministry of Magic, didn't care much about what the Minister of Magic was saying about Harry Potter, but he had caught the small article stating that it was fear that was keeping The Boy Who Lived's mouth shut, that it was possible that He Who Must Not Be Named had stamped down Harry Potter's heroic bravado, asking the wizarding world if they could have any kind of faith in the so called _Chosen One. _They had even insulted Dumbledore's integrity again, however so discretely, had said he was getting on in years; losing his touch…It had made him angry, he didn't deny that.

And still, he heard nothing from the old wizard. What about Voldemort's possible weakness? How was he going to get rid of the demon without knowing that? It couldn't have been a lie, it couldn't have just been said to give Harry false hope, Dumbledore wasn't just some aging man who couldn't be trusted, Harry believed in the man, believed that he would get the help he needed from him no matter if Dumbledore had made mistakes, no matter if he hardly knew anything about the great wizard.

Monday had come again and it made Harry weary. He had another nightmare that morning, of winged black creatures with red eyes, they had attacked him in a murky scenery of shadow and dead trees and he had seen Voldemort, looking down upon him with that wickedness, those born to murder eyes, laughing at his torture. He might have woken up shouting, he didn't know, but his throat hurt.

The day had been aggravatingly long and cold and once again he hadn't the courage to question Severus. They had their tea that night and Harry could notice the man was still not getting enough sleep but those eyes, no matter how afraid he was of the distant feeling he would get from the man, those eyes still continued to look at him with that lasting devotion, that careful tenderness, that commanding gaze, and Harry didn't know what he would do if that were to ever fade away from those eyes.

He realized, with an ache, that he missed those Wednesdays of summer, of the way they communicated in that restaurant, the way Severus would act, how they were before they knew they had feelings for each other and he realized that he'd give anything to spend a day like that with the man again. He could remember their first date upon that beach, how Severus had smiled then, like there was nothing to be afraid of, like nothing else mattered but the two of them.

It didn't feel like that to Harry anymore.

He had looked at the man's face that night and had asked himself quietly in his mind:

_Why don't you treat me that way anymore? Why don't you make fun of me anymore? Have you changed your mind? Have you been telling the truth? _

And then he began to think crazy thoughts:

_Do you see the love in my eyes? Are you able to recognize it? Even if it is me? Do you know that I love you? I'm just too afraid to tell you…I've never been in love before, not this kind of love…I've never felt like this, like if I can't be with you…it's worse than death, do you know that? _

Harry could see the pain in Severus's eyes that night, that night when they had gone to the bedroom and he had undressed Harry, and undressed himself, and they were naked, holding on to each other, rubbing and touching together, coming together, Harry had seen it in those black depths, had seen pain and fear and he had wished he hadn't recognized what else lived in that black, wished he hadn't seen the emotion he felt every time he would wake. Guilt. Severus felt guilty.

* * *

Harry hardly paid attention to Professor Sprout's lecture on the magical properties of plants that were found in marshes. It was Tuesday, October 22nd, and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to just sleep. He just didn't want to be awake, didn't want to have to feel the worry, didn't want to have to wonder what Severus wasn't telling him and he just wanted to stop his mind from fervently guessing at what could be causing the man such anxiety.

Could it be because of Voldemort? It was a possibility. He didn't even know if the man had been called again or not, hadn't even asked, didn't know if it was right to ask. He was supposed to avoid stress but it seemed like stress was leaching onto his very skin, a constant undesired company to his side. As of right now he knew there were hickeys on his chest from last night, knew there was one on his inner right thigh and his right hand was absentmindedly holding his necklace through his uniform cardigan.

When it was time for Defense Against the Dark Arts Harry had sat next to Hermione like he had been doing for the past weeks while "Won Won" sat next to Lavender. Harry wished he hadn't noticed the few times he would catch Lavender's hand gripping Ron's knee however it was a sight to see the boy's face redden and move his knee from her hand.

Despite his troubled thoughts Harry had listened intently during Professor Royle's lecture because the man had introduced them to Wandlore. Harry sort of knew a bit about the subject however he couldn't really remember all of what Ollivander had said that day in Fourth Year when the champions of the Triwizard Tournament wands had been weighed by the old man and his watery eyes. He knew the terms whippy and rigid and the way the man had said "The wand chooses the Wizard, Mr. Potter." He'd never forget that.

Royle's lecture on Wandlore was very informative. They all had their books open to the chapter on Wandlore and Harry was surprised that the man knew so much about wands in spite of his young age and somewhat lazy attitude. They learned briefly about how wands were made differently all throughout the world, of wand flexibility and components, of types of wood and wand cores and how they affected a witch or wizard's wand and the meanings behind them. As usual there was a slideshow and candy was thrown about the class to students who knew the answers to the man's list of questions, as usual Hermione's hand had flown up more than anyone else's had.

After Royle's slideshow he had Harry pass out worksheets to everyone and had them get in groups of 5 or 6 people. For the last half hour of class they were all analyzing each other's wands, filling out the charts on the worksheets. Harry had to admit it was fun. His whole group had been laughing by the time the bell rang. He had Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Seamus in his group. It had been strange to hold another person's wand. It wasn't as if he hadn't done it before but to hold them like they all did, staring close, feeling its weight, feeling the foreign buzz of magical energy to his hands, it was interesting how much there was to know about wands. They had even had to cast simple spells and charms with each other's wands, noting the difference between their own wands and others.

Harry could tell that wands could understand their owners.

He felt a bit better since he had smiled and laughed and had seen Hermione smiling and laughing as well, even joking when Neville had butchered a simple summoning spell, making fire come out of her wand instead. Harry had enjoyed the loudness in the classroom; it had reminded him of when Remus had taught them all.

Lunch even went well because Luna had sat next to him and had a chat with him about Wandlore even though Harry had to fingerspell a lot of the terms. Cho had joined them and despite his apprehensiveness around her he couldn't be rude to her, no matter if there were jealous eyes upon him. He had felt happy, even during Transfiguration when they were learning the Bird-Conjuring Spell, the incantation being _Avis_.

Half way through the lesson the classroom was filled with twittering, small birds of different colors of the rainbow, mostly from Hermione's wand. Harry had only managed a tiny yellow bird that could barely fly but Professor McGonagall had told him not to be discouraged since the spell was challenging when done nonverbally. Still, he had smiled and laughed at his silly bird that had twiddled about his desk, chirping and trying to fly, leaving about little feathers everywhere, hopefully looking up with beady black eyes at Hermione's birds.

But his happiness was short lived.

His lessons with Severus that night had the Room of Requirement filling up with tension. The man hardly responded to Harry when he had told him about what he had learned in Defense and his blundering bird in Transfiguration. He had thought it would have made the man smile, thought that by telling Severus that the conjured bird suited him, that the man would give him a smile but it didn't and no matter how hard he had tried that night during their tea Severus wouldn't smile. He would nod at Harry or just be silent, staring at the fire in the hearth.

They only kissed for moments, sitting next to each other and then Harry had asked if he could analyze the man's wand and Severus had said perhaps another time because it was time for him to return to his dorm…

It was maddening and all of it, all of it just made him want to scream.

* * *

Wednesday morning had Harry feeling irritable; he hadn't even wanted to wake up but he did anyway, showering and dressing in his uniform and he stared at the picture of his parents he had on the small table by his four-poster bed. He always glanced at it at least once every day, to see the two of them, dancing in the falling leaves of autumn, smiling, looking at him. He stared at it for much longer this morning that had come with frosted windows, cold feet, and had him wondering, because it was so cold, if the snow would start early this year.

Instead of being escorted to the Headmaster's office to his session after breakfast Ms. Gardiner had met him in the Great Hall that morning. She had on a black coat this time with golden buttons and fine white robes underneath with white high heels. Her hair was down and curled and her pink rosy lipstick shimmered and her cheeks held that same blush. Her dark green eyes seemed brighter to Harry today.

She had greeted his friends happily and told him if they could have his session in his dorm room this time. Harry had nodded, wondering why she had made that choice. She walked him up to Gryffindor Tower and had announced the password with a cheery tone, saying she missed doing such things and that Ravenclaws normally had to answer to riddles to get into their common room.

Harry felt like his body was pulled by her merriment.

"Harry, these are wonderful," Ms. Gardiner had said in an awed tone when they had entered the boys dorm that was empty.

She was referring to the few ink drawings he had tacked up: a few were of Hedwig, the part of the castle he could see from his window, Crookshanks, his trainers, Luna, his wand, tree leaves, and a drawing of his own face.

"I already used up two of the ink refills for my pen," Harry signed and felt the bristle of heat upon his cheeks.

"I'll have to get you some more then," she said with a soft smile and went back to looking at the drawings.

Harry stood there, leaning against the wooden bed pole. His cheeks reddened a bit more when she sat upon his bed. He was glad he had made it that morning. He let his school bag down by his trunk and sat next to her. Her eyes were on the picture of his parents, her hands upon her lap. Harry turned to look down upon his school shoes, waiting for the woman to say something.

"Harry…" she said with such gentleness.

Harry looked up and she had turned to look at him. It was different sitting this close to her, stranger to remember that he had embraced her so tightly so many weeks ago when he had thought he had run out of hope, out of everything…

"I want to talk to you about something…something that might be very sensitive to you," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry nodded once, shortly.

"I am aware that…you never had a funeral for your godfather," she spoke softly, her eyes on his own.

Harry's heart gave a strong beat and a wave of discomfort washed over him so quickly.

"There…wasn't a body to bury…" Harry signed and his hands were shivering.

"I know," Ms. Gardiner responded quietly. "I know there was no sort of service at all for him. Do you ever think about that, Harry?"

Harry lowered his eyes.

"Sometimes…" he signed. "I never asked anyone about it though…I didn't want…I mean…For a long time…even though I knew he was gone…I just kept thinking…he would show up somehow…I guess it was because there wasn't a body…"

"I understand, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said and she took his right hand into her own, holding it, and he felt how soft it was, warm. He was surprised that the simple gesture had brought him some comfort.

"Funerals…can be very important, almost crucial to the grieving process, Harry," she began to say. "It's the acknowledgment that a loved one has passed; it brings it into a reality of sorts. It helps you reconcile, it brings closure, understanding, remembrance, and acceptance."

"I have accepted it…" Harry signed suddenly, feeling anger bite at his body.

"I know you have, Harry…but maybe not in the way you think," she said gently. "You are still grieving…and that proves that a part of you hasn't developed within that acceptance, there is still a part of you that's without meaning, a part that is still in so much pain, and funerals are a way of embracing that pain, moving toward it to get passed it."

"I don't understand…What do you want me to do?" Harry signed after a moment.

"Well…I thought you could bury something of your godfather's, perhaps a letter or something that belonged to him, even a letter you could write yourself _to_ your godfather," Ms. Gardiner explained softly.

Harry was looking down at his hands and he thought that perhaps it was time to tell someone about it. He stood and went over to his trunk, bending down to open it as she watched him. It was mostly filled with his old school books, socks, and odd items. He found the piece of the mirror easily; it was set between an old folded jumper and a thin notebook.

He picked it up gently, closed his trunk and walked over to the bed, placing the mirror shard next to Ms. Gardiner.

"What's this, Harry?" she asked, looking at the piece of mirror.

"Have you ever heard of two-way mirrors?" Harry signed slowly.

She nodded in response. Harry leaned against the bed poster, his heart thumping strongly in his chest, it was difficult to breathe.

"My godfather…gave me one to match his, it was a Christmas present…but I never opened it, not until…after he died," Harry signed. His expression had saddened. "I'm sure you know…why I went to the Ministry that night…"

Ms. Gardiner was still for a moment but then she nodded, her eyes taking upon a forlorn look.

"I could have used this…to make sure he was ok…I could have used this…to talk to him whenever I wanted," Harry signed with his eyes shadowed as they were cast upon the floor. "When I opened it…I…just didn't want it to be real…none of it…" Harry felt the hot tears pooling up in his eyes and he swallowed down the lump in this throat. "I had wished...he could have been a stranger to me…so it wouldn't hurt so much…so I didn't have to feel anything…so I didn't have to feel responsible…But I felt like an idiot…I was so angry…I tried to say his name into it…but of course it didn't work…My voice wouldn't work…so I broke it…" Harry wiped quickly at the tears that fell. His body was trembling. "I thought…I didn't deserve to be his godson…"

Harry couldn't control the anger and sorrow that flooded his body and he had hit the wooden post with the side of his fist, his teeth clenched and then he let out a silent sob, resting his forehead against the post, his eyes shut tightly against the rest of the anger that wished to hit the post more. Ms. Gardiner had stood and she had placed her hand on the back of his neck and Harry's body had moved on its own, turned to face her as she pulled him toward her, hugging him tightly.

She was always like this. No matter how pathetic he felt or acted, how helpless he could feel, she always knew how to react, how to calm him and mend his emotions, made him feel less pathetic. He could smell her perfume, a sweet blossoming flower, her body against his own, she was taller than him, he came up to a little above her shoulder.

"It's gone Harry, it's done, there's no need to look back," she said. "There's only what's in front of you now, ok?"

Harry nodded, his cheek against the fleece of her coat. He knew that. He knew the strength that was needed to keep walking ahead, to realize that time wouldn't wait for him, that Sirius's life was over, but he also knew that part of him that she spoke of, that part of him wanted to stay behind, to stay by the man's side, like he had wanted to the night his godfather took his last breath.

He was afraid to move forward.

She came away and she took up the mirror shard in her hand.

"If you want…you can bury this somewhere and take a moment to honor his memory," Ms. Gardiner said quietly.

Harry nodded and then wiped at his eyes.

"I'm sure if you do that, things will get easier," she said and smiled kindheartedly.

Harry nodded again.

"I have to go, think about what I said and try to meditate when you can," Ms. Gardiner said. "Please take care, Harry and if you ever need me just tell Professor Dumbledore. Anytime, Harry."

"Thank you…and take care," Harry signed and nodded.

"Oh, and keep drawing, they really are wonderful." She smiled again and Harry watched her leave.

He waited for a moment and then went over to his trunk again, getting on his knees to open it, the piece of mirror in his hand and his eyes fell upon the glistening seashell that he had taken from the white sand under the ocean on his birthday. He picked it up for just a moment but then he heard someone coming up the stairs. He put the shell back and closed his trunk and hesitated with the shard.

He put it in his trouser's pocket. He would bury it today, by himself. He would give Sirius a funeral, he would take that step, he was strong enough now to take that step.

He turned, picking up his school bag and there was Ron standing there, Ron who had fought with him in the Department of Mysteries, who had been held at wand point by a Death Eater…all to save Sirius who didn't need saving. But he walked by the boy quickly. He just didn't know what to say to the boy at the moment.

All through Charms Harry could feel the piece of the mirror in his pocket, it felt heavy somehow and it poked him now and then but it was like a reminder of what he needed to do. He would bury it after Potions class, where Sirius had been attacked by the swarm of the dementors, where he had first cast a corporeal Patronus, had watched the stag gallop across the frozen water, where he had saved his godfather once.

During Potions Harry hadn't paid much attention to Severus's lecture on the properties of potion salves and as they worked in pairs to create their own simple cut healing salve he let Hermione do most of the work. He hadn't told her about what he planned to do, he wanted to do it alone, he knew she would support him no matter what but he just couldn't tell her.

When they turned their samples of their salves in to be graded Harry hadn't expected Severus to tell him to stay after class. Harry did so feeling a great sense of trepidation. He just didn't like the way the man was acting but perhaps he was ready to tell him what was bothering him. Harry was both relieved and afraid.

He followed the man into his office as Severus carried the small box of their samples and Harry carried his school bag. Harry watched as he put the box upon his desk and turned to face him. Severus's eyes looked exhausted. There was silence for a short moment as Harry stood there.

"Would you like to have some tea?" Severus asked suddenly.

Harry didn't know how to answer the man at first. He felt the mirror piece in his pocket, felt the anticipation of what he wanted to do. Perhaps he could ask the man to come with him? Maybe it would be alright if he didn't do it alone? He didn't know.

He nodded quickly and then Severus led him to his personal quarters. Harry took off his robes and hung them at the entry way. He set his school bag by him as he sat upon the couch. Severus had gone to the kitchen to make their tea as usual. He could have never expected what happened in the following moments and afterward it would have felt like he had fallen into a snake pit…

Severus had come back with their tea on the silver tray and Harry noticed the man's hands right away. They were trembling softly like his own and when the man had set the tray down one of the small white tea cups tipped over, rolling somewhat, spilling the golden liquid out and it quickly trickled over the tray and onto the floor. Harry stood up swiftly.

"No, sit, it's fine," Severus said and his voice had shaken at the end.

Harry didn't know why his legs had gone numb as he continued to stand there, looking at how those hands that he had known were so strong, how they quaked and something in him cracked just like the fallen tea cup.

"What's wrong?" Harry signed.

Severus had been about to take out his wand but his dark eyes had caught Harry's signing.

"I'm fine…" the man started to say, reaching for his pocket.

"Stop," Harry signed harshly. "You're not fine…and I'm sick of pretending that you are…Why won't you tell me what's wrong? You always say you're here for me…I always open up to you…always…So what am I here for?"

"Harry…" Severus began.

"When is your birthday?" Harry signed and his body was shaking, his face reddening and once again different kinds of emotions were stabbing at his body: anger, fear, embarrassment, pain, worry, hate and love…

"What?" Severus said and he had put on a look of confusion, his eyes narrowing.

"What's your favorite food? How tall are you? How old are you?" Harry was signing and he had bitten his tongue because of how badly his body was shivering.

"Harry…what are you doing…?"

"What are you afraid of? What do you like to do?" Harry was glaring at the floor, at the spilt tea, his mind filled with the crashing thoughts in his head, the bottled feelings he had packed down these past two weeks. He was tired of never asking the man these sorts of questions.

"_Harry_…" Severus said breathlessly.

"Answer me!" Harry's hands were at his sides and he had mouthed the silent words as if he were to scream them. "Tell me what's wrong!"

Severus took a step closer and Harry took a step back, his face flushed with resentment.

"Why don't you ask me questions anymore? Why are you being so…distant with me?" Harry signed, swallowing down the tears that threatened to surface. "We've been together…doing all these…things…and I don't know…anything about you…because I'm afraid…that you won't answer me…that you'll keep everything so mysterious…"

Severus was silent and Harry couldn't look up to see the man's face. His chest was aching terribly.

"And still…still…we do these things…you make my body feel all these things," Harry signed. "I wasn't afraid…back then but now…It's like you've stopped being kind to me…You don't talk to me…anymore…all you want to do is…pleasure me…" Harry's vision was shaking. "But I want to know you…before we do anything more…I really want to know you…before we have sex…" Harry could barely breathe.

And Severus was quiet and Harry continued to look at the ground.

"Say something," Harry signed forcibly and brought his head up, his eyes glaring into Severus's own. The man's expression was dark, tense, intimidating as he looked down at Harry.

"You want to know me so badly…?" Severus said tightly and there was no softness to that voice, it was like venom. "You know how to do it now, don't you? Take out your wand, look all you want, I won't even try to stop you…I _promise_."

Harry stared at the man in disbelief, his eyes broadening, the light of the fire making the blue so bright, making the lenses of his glasses shine.

"Go ahead," Severus said lowly. "This time you have my permission."

Harry gritted his teeth so hard it hurt and his eyes stung, his hands clenched into fists.

"You son of a—"

In a split second he was on the floor. Severus had lunged forward, pushing him to the ground hard and he had landed upon his back painfully. He had grabbed Harry's wrists, pinning them to his sides.

"_What?_ Are you scared of what you'll see?" Severus snapped and Harry flinched. He was looking up at the man's shadowed face. He wanted to move but Severus's legs were pinching his legs together and he felt the sudden sting of the mirror in his thigh.

"You're so damn curious, aren't you?" Severus spat. "You never think of why I do not speak about myself, do you? Never! You couldn't possibly, in that scatterbrained head of yours! Couldn't even guess that perhaps I just want to _spare_ you from such things!? Of course not, because all you can think about is saving others. I am in no need of your pity!" The man's voice was low and yet it struck Harry's ears so harshly, grounding against them.

Why did they always have to fight? Was it the only way they could truly express themselves? Harry didn't want to believe that. And now he was trying to fight against the man's hold, the mirror shard was stabbing at his skin; his face was contorted in anger and struggle.

"What's the matter? Lost all of our braveness, have we? Feeling powerless?" Severus said spitefully. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep tears from coming to his eyes. "As always, your bark is worse than your bite, much like your godfather…"

Harry's heart felt like it had been squeezed by a hand made of ice. He was beside himself. And the man's eyes had gone somewhat wide for just a second and Harry saw the pain, the greed, the sorrow, and the sickening guilt all at once and then he was struggling harder than ever against Severus's hold. Severus who he couldn't believe that such words had come from the man's mouth, that forsaken tongue of his and all the while he barely heard the man's words:

"_Harry, _I didn't…I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I didn't!" Harry's eyes were closed shut and he didn't care that the shard in his pocket was biting at his skin, didn't care for anything but to get out from under the body above him. "Please, calm down, calm down, I didn't mean it, I didn't, please…I'm sorry…"

Harry let out a strangled, mute cry as his legs were trying to kick up, his wrists working painfully against the man's grip.

"Let go!" Harry mouthed. And tears were in his eyes now, spilling out.

"Harry, _Harry,_" Severus let out and Harry opened his eyes, the light from the flames hurt. And it could have been a dream because there was light dancing in that black, light caused by the tears that were in the man's eyes. The man's grip lessened as if Severus had lost all of his strength and Harry's body moved on its own, pushing himself away from under him and to his feet, he staggered, almost falling down once again.

Severus was on his knees, eyes lifting to look upon Harry. Harry was out of breath, not knowing what he was feeling, not sure if he was even angry with the man anymore because he had never seen tears in those eyes, and he never wanted to see tears in those eyes. He guessed this was what happened when you loved someone, to forgive quickly…but hadn't he always done that with this man?

"You're bleeding…" It was almost a whisper.

Harry didn't understand what Severus had said at first, his mind felt blank.

Severus stood so quickly, coming over to Harry and he looked down and realized there was a small pool of blood under his left pocket of his trousers, the point of the glass was visible as it stuck up from his pocket.

"What is that?" Severus said and his voice was stronger.

Before Harry could back away the man had taken hold of his left arm, his free hand reaching down and he pulled out the piece of mirror with a swift movement. Severus was looking down at the shard and then to Harry's face. The tears were gone from his eyes, as if Harry had only imagined them.

"Why do you have this?" the man asked in a low tone.

Harry was unsure of what to say, for some reason it seemed too personal to tell or he just didn't know how to tell the man.

"Answer me!" Severus suddenly snapped, tugging at Harry's arm.

Before he could think of an answer Severus had thrown the shard away and it fell onto the couch and in a quick movement the man had come closer and the sleeves of Harry's cardigan were pushed up, one after the other to reveal his arms.

And everything that had happened the past few days, all of his worry, all of his fears, seemed to pale in comparison to what he was feeling now; fury, doubt, and such deep disappointment. Before the man could speak a word Harry yanked his wrists from his hands, tugging down his sleeves.

"Why did you have that?" Severus asked quickly.

"You thought I cut myself? That I've been cutting myself?" Harry spat the soundless words along with signing. His eyes were shadowed, almost looking at the man with disgust.

"That's not…" the man started to say. He was standing up with that straight posture, his own fists clenched now. "Tell me why it is that you had that in your pocket."

"I'm not harming myself," Harry signed. "Why would you think that? Why would you ever—"

"Because!" Severus shouted and it made Harry flinch. "You don't know what it was like…seeing you almost bleed to death that night! Or when you tried to slice your own throat or throw yourself off the astronomy tower!"

"That wasn't me!" Harry signed, trying to shout the words but it was useless.

"I know that!" Severus yelled and he was breathing hard. "But it's still here!" Severus had pointed to his head, his eyes burning with anger and that pain. "Don't you know how much I worry about you because of that? Don't you know how afraid for you I am? That every single time you get hurt I feel that it is my fault!? I'm supposed to protect you!" He had pointed at Harry and then brought his hands at his sides once again.

"You're supposed to believe in me!" Harry signed, his eyes bright with tears. "You! Out of everyone else, you were supposed to have _faith_ in me!" Harry had jabbed his chest with his finger so hard it hurt.

He didn't want others to keep feeling sorry for him, to keep thinking he was some messed up boy with problems he couldn't control. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair that the person he had come to love so dearly had believed he would resort to such an act…

Severus's eyes were cast to the floor and Harry could see that the man was shaking.

"Faith? You think I don't have faith in you?" Severus said with an unsteady but light voice.

Harry stood still, unable to even blink.

"From the very beginning of all this…" Severus's voice was rising justly and it was tense. "I've put _all_ my faith in _you_..."

Harry opened his mouth but closed it.

"But of course you don't realize that…you're just a boy…You don't understand…you can't understand…You make me look like such a fool…Act like such a…" Severus's eyes were glaring daggers at the ground and Harry felt like he should run; his intuition was telling him to run.

"You make me feel like some kind of _coward_..." Severus spat. "As if I'm not a _man_…"

Harry was confused by the man's words but they were said with such scorn, such emotion.

The next thing he knew he was being grabbed with such force and pulled, almost dragged and his numb legs stumbled forward as the man tugged him roughly toward Severus's bedroom. Warning bells sounded off in Harry's head and he tried to get away from the man but the door was kicked open and he was pulled into the dim lit room.

Harry let out a gasp as he was thrown upon the bed, landing on his back and he immediately got off it and started for the door, eyes on the light that came from the hallway but Severus's hand grabbed his arm in a vice grip and he spun Harry around who was already dizzy. His wrists were seized together behind his back and he was pushed forward harshly.

His front hit the bed and he let out a mute noise. Hands came around him, pulling at his open cardigan insensitively and it slipped past his shoulders and the garment stopped around his wrists. His legs were trembling along with the rest of his body as it was in such a position and his heart was racing and fear was sinking into his heart, constricting it.

He cranked his neck to see the man's face above him that was in shadow, black eyes gleaming, face almost blank with strict composure. With one hand holding Harry's wrists tightly together Severus unbuttoned his black overcoat with such speed, stripping the garment off, switching his hands that held his wrists and the long coat was thrown to the floor.

The man's right hand came to the back of his head, fingertips tangling in his hair.

"You're afraid of me…" Severus said quietly. "That's good instinct, Harry…"

It took him such a great effort to even breathe in this tainted, devastating moment and the only thought that kept striking his mind with such might was that he hadn't even begun to understand Severus. Even if he could see those eyes with perfect clarity, even if those strong hands touched him in every way, even if they were so close it was suffocating, he could never reach that mind, those secret thoughts.

And he realized he hadn't thought about how Severus felt, about what this was doing to him, that maybe he was afraid, just as afraid as Harry was to go further, to create that sort of permanent bond, to think of a future, to say words that grew from one's heart. He had never truly thought that there could be something so dark in the man's soul that he would want to save Harry from that.

But he had still fallen in love with him, with hands that were washed in sin and greed and evil, with eyes that had watched murder countless times, with a conscience so wrecked, so beaten, so dead. How much had this man suffered? How much had he been forced to live through? How many mistakes had he made? How much did he have to be guilty for? How many people had he let down? Who was it that he hadn't been able to save?

Why? Why did he have to love such a man so much? Why had this love grown in a matter of days to such infinite stretches of the universe? It was agony.

"Look at what you're doing to me…" Severus's voice rose up in the silence of the cold room and mixed with the shattering beats of his heart, the sound of his breath that struggled to enter his lungs. "Look at what's become of me…because of you…Why?" Severus's hand was heavy against Harry's head and the grip around his wrists tightened and burned. "Why is it always you? No matter what…I just can't get around _you_…What kind of strength do you have in such a body that could do this to me? You're just a boy…you are nothing special…and yet I am so _bound_ to you."

Harry was suddenly pulled up, his back straightened and against the man's front, Severus still restraining his arms. The man's right hand yanked his tie roughly and Harry felt the heat across his neck as it was removed from his collar and thrown to the floor. He felt petrified, disoriented, lost and scared and maybe he still wanted to run, maybe he wanted to strike at the man to let him go, but there was something that kept his body still besides the man's hand, because Severus was speaking of his own feelings, his own emotions however rampant they may be, however violent.

He was used to fighting for what he wanted, for what was right, used to bad luck and leaping without any sort of plan of action, used to running after all the answers by himself and he had to ask himself a question he already knew the answer to:

Was Severus worth all of this?

He didn't know why he understood what was happening, didn't know why he let it in to the very marrow of his bones, and he was reminded of those fish in that bowl, swimming along together, always, always until death…

"I remember…when all I wanted to do was torture you…humiliate you so deeply…to hate you, hate you with _everything_…" Severus said with a quivering, darkening voice. Harry felt that hand come to his neck tightly, it was like hot coils smearing over his skin and then the hand moved down and a few of his shirt's buttons were undone, slipping away from the white cloth. "That was how I lived...but I wasn't the one to break you…to make you feel lower than dirt…You want to know what's even more ironic than how much I desire you?" The man's hand had slipped under his shirt, caressing his chest and Harry shut his eyes tightly. "When you were broken beyond anything, done for…the very way I so wished to see you…that's when I started caring for you…" His nipple was pinched, painfully and Harry clenched his jaw. "And all I wanted to do from there was give you everything and I couldn't even begin to contemplate that, as if I had gone mad…But my body reacted on its own, gave in without any resistance no matter how much my brain screamed for it to stop…" Severus's hand moved up to his neck again. "And what did you do? You just took it all, you were so starved for it…and I was bountiful…"

"Your kindness stole all reason from me…your kindness drowned me, trapped me and my will was nothing compared to it," the man hissed out. "Don't you understand how impossible this was? How unimaginable? But it didn't matter…_Nothing_ mattered more to me than your happiness, nothing mattered more to me than having you…I would have done anything…I have done…everything to keep you here with me…" Severus's voice was quaking even more, almost inaudible, almost weak and Harry never thought such a voice, like velvet, could ever sound so mournful. "But I'm a fool…I have no knowledge of such things…and I have been…so cruel…"

Harry could feel how torturing the man's hold was on his wrists, how badly the body behind him was shaking and he had no idea of what to do, no voice to calm a soul, no words to speak out loud that could stop a man's pain.

"I can't stop this…I can't control it…I can't take it anymore," Severus said. "I have never felt this way…I am devoted to you…but I don't want you to understand me…to know me…" Severus's body had leaned forward, his lips close to Harry's ear. "There are so many people who love you…Did you force your way into their hearts as well?"

Harry's eyes widened and Severus's hand was under his chin, fingers pressing into his face.

"Tell me…what sort of relationship can we possibly have? What kind of life?"

Harry tried to turn his head to see what the man's face looked like but he could barely do so. Severus's hand came away from his face and unbuttoned the rest of Harry's shirt.

"If only you never had to know the truth…if only one of us could just be someone else…" Severus's whispered breath made a sharp shiver go up Harry's back, made him feel a sting in his pounding heart. "No matter how wrong this is…no matter how much I don't deserve you…I couldn't even attempt to fight this…" The man's lips skated across his exposed neck, stopping to plant a kiss upon the sensitive flesh. "You ruin me…but I deserve it…"

The man had taken a step back, letting Harry's wrists go so quickly that he fell to his knees. Harry's body was trembling horribly but he turned around to see that Severus was sitting down upon one of the wingback chairs, leaning with his hands over his face, his elbows on his knees. Somehow Harry got to his feet, rubbing at his wrists that stung.

He buttoned up his shirt and pulled his cardigan back on despite his shaking hands and he could feel the hot tears in his eyes, knew that he had been shocked by how the man had acted toward him. Harry held his arms as if hugging himself as he hesitated. He couldn't leave Severus like this, he didn't have the heart to, he just wanted everything to be ok between them, he didn't want to think that they could ever be broken apart by their pasts.

Harry walked with unfeeling steps to stand before Severus. He took in a shuddered breath before he got upon his knees to try to see the man's face and his hands reached out, placing themselves over the top of them. He was afraid, he knew that but he wouldn't run away, he wouldn't give up on this.

He pulled gently upon hands that were bigger than his own and they came away slowly. Those black eyes were half open, tired and shadowed.

"I'm sorry…I always wind up hurting you," Severus said and the man sounded more like himself.

"I'm fine…" Harry signed. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry if I was pushing you…I shouldn't have…You've done so much for me…I was being selfish…"

"No…you weren't…" Severus said gently.

"You don't have to tell me…" Harry signed. "And if you feel like you do…you can take all the time you want…I can wait…"

"Harry…" Severus started to say.

"I care about you…" Harry signed. "I just want to be with you…more than anything…Please believe that…please know that all I really wanted was for you to smile at me again…"

Harry wondered in the silence that followed if his own eyes held that look of devotion now.

"You should go…" Severus said quietly. "It's best that you go, Harry…"

Harry didn't want to leave but he nodded anyway and he pushed himself up, tilting his head somewhat to kiss the man chastely and then he stood quickly, hurrying to grab up his tie and then he was gone from the room and did his tie up by the entryway, putting on his robes and was out the door with his school bag, the piece of the mirror forgotten where it lay upon the sofa.

His legs moved on their own, almost running as he made his way up the many floors of the castle. He didn't know how to deal with it all, all of what Severus was feeling, of what he was feeling but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't stop himself from asking what were the truths Severus was keeping from him, the truths that the man was so desperately clinging to?

* * *

A/N: Ok. This was sort of a difficult chapter to write. I just wanted the readers to feel just how plagued Snape is by his feelings for Harry and the unwanted need to reveal the secrets he has. I wanted to express the turmoil his mind is under and how Harry doesn't have any idea of how he should go about making things between them better.

I also wanted to bring back a little bit of the nastiness in Snape even though he has changed but it doesn't mean he has changed completely.

I hope everyone enjoyed and understood this chapter. There is a lot to come in the next chapter and a good amount of Severus's POV, the storm isn't over and Harry will have to face a few demons.

I apologize for any errors that I may have missed.


	34. Chapter 33: Tether this Love Part II

A/N: And onto part II. I really hope the previous chapter was accepted well and you are looking forward to continuing with this story. I've had to write bits and pieces here and there this past month when I had the time between school work and other responsibilities. On with the story:

**I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.**

**Warning: This chapter contains M/M. Don't like it, don't read it, thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter 33: Tether this Love Part II**

It was a cataclysmic world that he lived in. Or at least, where his mind resided as of now. He had once again lost control of everything, had become a monster again and he did not know how he had gotten through the passing days. With so many sleepless nights, making his body stay awake with any kind of potion, having a sudden masochistic nature, and yet giving into drinking heavily and passing out anyway.

Who exactly was his suffering soul entertaining?

He was falling apart and perhaps he had always been aware that he would. No matter how happy their beginning had been, no matter how much sunlight there had been, or gentleness, or carefree moments, of times where he had forgotten himself, this point, here and now, it was expected, it was certain and he had always dreaded it, always hoped that it would be easy, foolishly believed that they could sweep through it like everything else. But this was the pinnacle, the last summit, this would decide if their hearts were strong enough, if they were brave enough to keep fighting, a test of courage, a test of sacrifice.

He did not have the qualifications to be a hero. Because doubt had won, sin had eaten away his belief, the chained box was cracking open and he was at the end of his rope and he could no longer pull himself up, could no longer keep these confessions unspoken. It was time to face fear, time to armor up his heart and what was left of his soul.

He had felt free when he had first kissed the boy, had felt the warmth of life, the fire of spirit, and the ache that was longing, attachment, and he had felt, for the first time in a long time, that he wanted to live, to keep living. He had seen so much of the world, had learned many things up till now, but none of it, not a single thing, mattered when it came to the boy.

There had never been any sort of person in this world that made him want to go to any lengths to protect, to be with, and he had never known that a person could feel that way, so limitless, so bold, because he felt like he could conquer it all if it meant keeping one person happy.

He had walked a life of shadows, of dangerous ideas, of bloodied hands, had been controlled by dark souls that had fed off his own soul, staining it, manipulating every part of him. And he had thought that perhaps his soul had never been pure, that it had to have some sort of mark upon it that he could constantly feel, it was heavy on his skin, it kept him from making all the right choices, kept him from grasping at hope, at courage, and instead he had tried to find sanctity on the wrong, blood stained path, had chosen to follow what would lead him to power.

But it had never been power that he had been truly searching for. He had known that as soon as the cursed mark had etched in his skin like liquid flame, as soon as he had stolen the life of another, had seen blood choke a man to death, had seen the use of torturous curses plague others for no other purpose than amusement, had seen the true evil that came with power. It had never been power.

He had chosen power as the replacement for purpose. He had never felt like he could live a life of purpose, where he could feel what it was like to belong, to be free to choose the steps he could take, to live a life full of memories he would never regret, where he would learn something every day no matter how pointless it was. He had never known how it felt to live just for the moments where your heart felt like a caged bird, jumping and desperate, where it felt like you were flying but your feet were still planted on the floor, where time didn't control you but impulse did, luck did, chance did, chance made everything possible.

He had never known what it was like to take a chance until now.

He didn't care what others would think, he didn't care for the complexity of this love, or whatever morals it would shatter, there was no other way than this love. So it was unexplainable, it just was and he had finally just let his body be, as if the wind had taken it, or the waves of the ocean, or the soul in a song, impulse, desire, whimsical streams of light like the stars above. He had found compassion, he had learned it, and everything to his eyes after that looked new.

And all it had taken was a simple chance.

When he thought about what was normal, what was routine or ritual it just never suited him, never summoned his interests. It was his fault, he knew that now, he had made himself numb to love, to attraction, to pleasure. He had expected it to always be that way till death. He had never expected someone to care about him, to care whether or not he was alone, whether he was happy, satisfied, wanted.

He wondered now if he would lose it all. It was the right thing to do. He was done with making mistakes. He would not let his own greed overcome him anymore.

And it was this misery that was wrecking, making his mind senseless, keeping him on edge and forcing his body to react in such ways he couldn't imagine. These past weeks he had been forcing his mouth shut. There had been so many times where he almost told the boy what needed to be said and at the same time he had almost told Harry that he loved him, loved him beyond any kind of comprehension, eternally, shamelessly, wildly…it felt wild to him, it felt instinctive, natural and if it was the way he was allowed to live his life, day after day, with every breath, he didn't know if he would be able to stop fighting for it.

He was only one person, one man and he didn't know where he belonged in the make-up of everything, he was insignificant, but so was the truth for every soul and that was why, all of his life, he had been unknowingly searching for a significance. He wanted worth; all he had ever wanted was for someone to find that worth in him.

But the truth, these truths, he was afraid they would erase any kind of worth that Harry saw in him, that hatred would be born again, spring up like tendrils and create that wall again and he would have to succumb to the bitterness once more, the spite, the agony of that desolation, passed despair, and yet he'd still be forced to live.

These passing days had thrown him into such madness, into an obsessed state of mind. He had no control over his emotions, over the way he would act around the boy and he was shamed by it. Every time he had been about to try to say the words he so dreaded to hear come from his lips to meet the boy's ears he would find a reason to stay quiet, whether it be those bright eyes or the softest touch from Harry or a certain way the boy would look at him or move and fear, abject fear would grip his body with no such mercy and he couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand it if those eyes would fill with disastrous odium, and then the hurt would follow, filling up those eyes with tears and there would be nothing he could say to earn any sort of pardon. Harry's kindness, he believed, just wouldn't be enough to earn his forgiveness.

It changed him because he couldn't be the way he wanted so much to be around the boy like they had been together, when they would smile at each other and he hadn't seen Harry smile, truly smile, or laugh because of his distance he was emitting on the boy. That, besides the guilt, was the most painful thing. It was easy to notice that Harry registered it quickly. He had no desire to avoid such affection but it wasn't right, ill deserved, almost disgusting and he wished, pleaded that everything they had done from the beginning would still mean something to the boy after all was said.

He had even tried to restrict his intimacy with Harry. He didn't want to be pleasured, to feel any kind of pleasure but his avarice or meanness, whichever one, would win out and he was easily persuaded when Harry would be the one to initiate it. He was horrible. He'd say it over and over to him till it made him sick.

He had taken advantage of Harry, had used him even if he truly cared for the boy more than himself. Perhaps it was in his nature, or perhaps he just wanted Harry to shape him into whatever way the boy saw to be the perfect match for him; he didn't care for that, all he cared for was that the boy was his, belonged to him. He wished to be rid of the darkness inside of him, all this time, perhaps without even realizing it at first, he had wanted Harry to be the one to try to purify him, that all that was good in Harry would wash away his sins, blend into his very blood, make him forget memories that were tarnished and warped in the night, becoming nightmares…

All this time he had wanted Harry to save him.

He had wanted Harry to be his light that his soul could be attached to, to still be able to feel. And yet, right now, he was wishing he could be numb again, sedated, deadened. This wasn't him, he didn't want to be a monster. Still he had lost it, had been losing it.

This love was too deep.

It felt like it was eating him alive. He loved Harry too much, cared for Harry too much and in the end he was hurting the boy because of it. His actions were horrid, unforgivable, almost evil and he could hardly contain his urges. His body, even though such an act was foreign to it, desired greatly to make love to Harry. These passing weeks he had thought about it more and more, about what it would feel like to be inside such a body, what it would feel like to the boy.

There had been times where he felt like he could do it, easily, slowly, to make sure Harry was pleasured throughout it all and yet knowing that no matter what it would be painful to the boy, knowing it was that sort of sexual pain, it sickened him as to how much he wanted it. He wondered what expressions Harry could make, how red that face could become, how his body would look, naked, while he was thrusting into it. He'd be gentle, slow, passionate, and he would be the one to take the boy's virtue.

He wondered if they would even have a chance to get that far, if Harry loved him or if he had destroyed any possible way of that to ever develop into a reality. How he wanted, needed to hear Harry say it, to hear that voice enter his heart, his whole body, it had been so long and all the kind things Harry had told him these past months, what would they do to him if they were said out loud?

He hardly felt hungry these days and the forced insomnia was making him so distracted, so removed from everything around him. He was really falling apart, especially after what he had done to Harry that day.

He was afraid, terrified.

He had been cruel, so cruel, almost heartless to Harry. And forceful, violent. All Harry had wanted was to know who he was, he had every right to, they were together, that sort of thing wouldn't change just because their relationship was uncommon, perhaps rare, he didn't want to care for it, he could hardly care now what other people would think if they knew, it didn't matter anymore.

He wanted to tell Harry everything and a part of him wanted Harry to tell him everything too. But it was doubt that kept twisting his mind and heart. Harry was young. Yes, he was mature for his age, had seen things that would age a person's mind quickly, but he hadn't known of love, of affection. He knew nothing of a normal relationship with a girl, hadn't felt the touch of a woman, their grace, their intelligence, their beauty or their own refinement and he had begun to wonder how had he grown on the boy so much so that they could lie in bed with each other in the ways that they did?

How could Harry want him? Be aroused, eager, lustful? What was it about him that made Harry want to kiss him on his own, touch him, pleasure him, getting on his knees so willingly…it shook him to the very core, burned him like torched iron, made him the one to be embarrassed, made him want to hide away in the shadows, made him wonder what faces he made when he would accidently let his composure slip. How did he look to Harry? How could Harry make him feel this way? But it shouldn't matter; none of it mattered as of now. He had hurt the boy again even though he had promised to never do such a thing.

There had been a war going on inside his body.

He had lost the calmness he was so used to. He had wanted to tell Harry that afternoon, to confess but everything just turned for the worst. He had been too nervous, too afraid and Harry's forwardness had only felt like the boy had been provoking him. It had looked like that to his fevered state of mind, his crazed senses, from the lack of sleep and the overpowering stress and worry and the aggravation and how angry he had been with himself; he had done the mistake, nasty mistake of turning it all on Harry, of focusing it all on the boy.

He has said such things that he hated himself for, loathed deeply for. He had no control and he knew it was wrong of him to assume that Harry had been harming himself to relieve the grief and guilt but he had been blind to everything, had wanted to break everything because he just kept failing, kept making a fool of himself as if he were dragging himself a long through a field of sinking mud. He must have sounded so weak; his own words had been unbearable to his ears.

And he knew that even Harry had doubts. How could the boy think that he didn't have faith in him? Was he so naïve? Did he not know of the love he carried for Harry? It had driven him to the edge, he had had enough, he was tired, exhausted of battling with himself.

It had taken everything in those moments to stop himself from forcing his body onto Harry's. As if, in some fractured way, the boy would be able to know how much Severus loved him. If only he could have gone mad; then he wouldn't be so ashamed of his actions now, wouldn't be aware of how dangerously irrational he had been. If his body had won Harry would surely have hated him afterward, would have been disgusted entirely.

Why couldn't he escape this? The passing, drifting days had felt like he was being strangled by his own hands…

* * *

"This is a piece of a two-way mirror," Dumbledore said softly. "Sirius gave Harry the matching mirror to his own last December as a way of communication between the two of them, a way to look after the boy. However, Harry did not open the present; he did not want to worry Sirius…"

"And how are you aware of this?" Severus said. He honestly did not know how he had even summoned up the energy to walk to the Headmaster's office that afternoon. It was just after his confrontation with the boy and instead of drinking till he would slip away into that pitch black of alcohol induced sleep he decided to go to the old wizard for some answers.

"Sophia explained how today's session with Harry went," Dumbledore said.

The man was sitting across from him as always and there were two cups of tea served though Severus hadn't touched his own. He felt nauseous and beyond, far beyond exhausted.

"She told Harry that it would help in his recovery to give his godfather a type of service to honor him," the man explained with that even tone.

"A funeral?" Severus said the words distantly.

Dumbledore nodded. Severus's sleep deprived eyes glanced at the broken mirror shard once again that lay upon the man's desk.

"He was to bury something of Sirius's and honor his memory," Dumbledore said. "I understand it of course, it is the right thing to do and it will help Harry work his way through the grief he feels."

Severus closed his eyes, he had been so quick to assume, as if he didn't trust the boy, he really was at the bottom of the pit he had dug himself.

"I can understand somewhat of how you were swift to become defensive on the matter, finding such a thing on the boy's possession," the man said. He folded his hands upon the table. "Considering…though I am sorry that you two fought because of it. I'm sure you could understand Harry's anger however?"

Severus hadn't told the man all that happened, obviously, he had just explained that he had wanted to talk to Harry and then saw the mirror piece in the boy's pocket and confronted him about it which much hostility. The boy had been more than offended, had made his feelings known to Severus and left his "office" heatedly. He had wondered how he had the strength to lie.

But it had been easy to lie to Dumbledore or rather keep the truth of what was really going on with him and Harry behind closed doors. He could look the man in the eye and tell him how their "companionship" had been getting on and he didn't feel any kind of guilt toward it anymore.

"I am sure he must think less of me now…" Severus said lightly. "Or perhaps…he doesn't understand how I am capable of worrying over him in such a way…"

"I am sure Harry has grown very attached to you, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "I can comprehend just how much of a relief it is to the boy knowing the hatred between the two of you is extinguished."

"I think…I have become overbearing…" Severus admitted resignedly. It was sort of the truth. "I believe it is because of the age difference…though we agree on many things…and connect quite easily during our lessons…"

"It could be that Harry is still intimidated by you," the old wizard said.

_But he enjoys being intimidated by me…It actually makes him feel safe…_

The words entered his mind almost on their own and he was reminded of better, warmer moments he had with the boy.

"Severus…you are looking more and more worn out as the days go by," Dumbledore said with those twinkling eyes on him. "Is something wrong?"

Severus's wanted to close his eyes again, it gave him some relief; the shined objects in the man's office made his head ache even more.

"I haven't been able to figure out the potion the Dark Lord is creating…" Severus said with exasperation. "Even with my knowledge…I cannot determine it…there just isn't a match…I do not know the potion…and there is nothing else I can do…I can say it was frustrating, wasted work…"

"I see…" was all the Headmaster said before: "And? What else has been bothering you?"

Severus lowered his eyes slowly. His expression was very somber. He just wanted to sleep, for eternity almost or to lie on the hot sands of that beach, to see the boy's face looking innocent, blushing, those lips so shined, tasting of the salt of the sea and the sweetness of his skin…

"I have decided…to tell him…" Severus said. His jaw had tightened.

"Severus…"

"He has the right to know…" Severus said tightly. "And it was wrong of me to keep it from him for so long…"

"Why do you think he should know?" Dumbledore said softly. "Have you really bonded so well? Well enough that you are worried over this so much you are losing sleep, acting rash again…afraid that he won't look at you the same way?"

Severus wanted to bite down on something. His heart was shaking.

"I have no way of explaining it…" Severus said quietly. "I respect him…He is a better man, no matter how young, than I will ever be…What I did…because of the way I know him now…I regret it even more…if it's possible…He doesn't deserve such pain…or such failure…"

"Do you feel as if you gave him this burden, Severus?" the old wizard questioned in almost a whisper.

Severus waited, looking down upon his hands that were on his knees.

"If not for me…there would have been less suffering…"

Dumbledore was silent.

"But if not for Harry…I would have continued to suffer…" Severus let the words go against his better judgment.

"Don't you think he'll grow to hate you once again?"

Severus looked up at the man with a bit of desperation in his eyes.

"Do you think that?" Severus whispered.

"I cannot say…" Dumbledore said. "But Harry is very compassionate…I do not think he would throw away your friendship so easily…"

Severus did not reply. Instead, he continued to look at the mirror shard. How come the boy hadn't told him what he had planned to do today? How come he did not mention how his session had gone? Was it because of his nervous demeanor? Had it made Harry uneasy? Of course it must have done that and it was easy for the boy to notice that Severus was most definitely not himself.

On top of that, Harry had always had a way of communicating with Black when he was alive. He could understand how such an unfortunate happening could add to Harry's guilt. Harry had never told him about it. It made him feel worse, if possible. He hadn't been taking care of the boy enough, hadn't been talking to him enough…but it was too late now, he was out of time.

"Where is the other mirror?" Severus asked quietly.

"Most likely at Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore answered.

"I suppose I should return this to him…" Severus said after a moment.

"Actually…" Dumbledore started, "I'd rather keep it, Severus."

"What for?" Severus said with narrowing eyes, they were blood shot.

"I'm not too sure yet…"

If only he wasn't on the brink of collapsing, then perhaps he would have had the energy to question the old wizard further.

"What about the service…?" Severus began.

"I'm certain Harry will find another item to bury, Severus…" Dumbledore said. "Now I think it's best that you get some rest, a long rest."

Severus wanted to cringe but he couldn't. Instead he stood up and bid the man a good evening and headed back to his personal quarters. He took a hot shower and after he dressed himself in his sleeping pants he let his body fall upon his bed. Lying there in the dark room he could still hear his voice, the words he had spoken, that he had no resolve to stop.

His chest hurt, his muscles ached, his left hand could still feel Harry's wrists that he had held onto so tightly. If only his dreams could bring him some sort of comfort, if only he could keep pretending. Before he surrendered to sleep he begged that Harry's heart would forgive him, that he would get the chance to tell the boy just how much, how deeply he loved him.

* * *

The bruises around his wrists had yet to fade. No one had noticed because of his uniform. He was staring at the purple abrasions in his skin, could tell where the man's fingertips had pressed down so brutally. It didn't really bother him in the way he thought it would. He honestly did not know what he felt. He just lay under the covers of his bed, curled up on his side, having no desire to walk around the cold castle this Friday morning.

He had not seen Severus yesterday, hadn't been escorted to the man's office, had not seen him at the Staff table at all. It did more than worry him; it made him angry, made him think negative thoughts, made him feel such discomfort. But Severus was suffering. In some way, he knew the man was hurting.

Harry had thought about something rather determinedly yesterday. He was trying to build up the courage he would need to tell Severus that he had fallen in love with him. Every time he tried to practice it in his head he'd just wind up feeling dizzy or sick. His heartbeat would quicken so much that he thought he would pass out again. He wished that things didn't have to be so complicated but this sort of relationship was complicated if Harry had to be honest with himself.

When it had begun he had been much too swept up with it to think of what would happen if Severus did start to open up more to him and he had been so focused on how they were together, how the man treated him with such kindness, tenderness, even playfulness. He had never expected a man like Severus Snape, who had once been so snarky and cold to everyone, to lighten up, almost literally, to be kind, to give him warmth and salvation.

He had also been a fool to believe that all that could come without a price.

This had to be some sort of rough patch in their relationship or a block in the road or however he wanted to phrase it to get the point across to himself. To be with someone like Severus you had to expect such things however frightening or intimidating or painful. What mattered to Harry now was just to know the truth already and what hurt just with the slightest of sting to his heart was that the man had not told him at the very start.

But Harry couldn't blame him for that. How could he? Their bond was fragile. Anything in the beginning could have broken them apart but it didn't because they were kind to one another, considerate, there was happiness and affection and loneliness and longing, magnetism, desire, and whatever else they gave to each other; hope, company, time…But all of it could have easily have ended if one of them had wanted to end it.

Things were different now. They had shared many things, intimate, lovely things, had both been there for each other. But Harry was afraid now. Why would Severus ever need him? How could he have done the things to the man, the things that Severus had said while his hand bounded Harry's wrists so tightly? How had he been capable of it? Did those words mean that Severus loved him? Harry didn't want to wish upon it, to believe it, he was too terrified.

Everything felt so heavy now; his muteness, being the Chosen One, Sirius, this _love_. His soul was battered from it all, he felt torn, misguided, and the anxiety was eating him alive. This year had been the toughest yet to Harry, he had lost his godfather and then his voice, had learned of the prophecy, had witnessed friendships being ruined by jealousy and misunderstanding, had a kind woman trying to save him from all of it, and most of all he had not only befriended Severus Snape, the Potions Master, but had come to love him so much that all of the above paled in comparison.

He didn't know how he had kept himself sane and if he was feeling all of this he couldn't imagine how Severus was feeling. The sensible thing would be to talk to the man but Harry couldn't, no matter what, he wasn't that brave and he was much too insecure under those black eyes. Maybe that was why he had been attracted to Severus from the start. Harry had always been able to act so calm, had been able to blend in well with everyone, with his friends and adapt to the years but whenever it came to Severus he was ruled, disheveled, speechless and even flustered. Severus moved him in every way possible, sparked his interests, made him want to react, made him livelier like the energy from a howling monsoon, from breaking winds over snowy mountains, gave him such a rush to his body that it left him trembling for hours. No one else could do such a thing to him and then comfort him with such warmth afterward, give him such peace like a thousand sunrises.

It left his mind with such blankness, made him feel like a child, wide eyed to the world and yet his body would feel as if he were standing on the utopia of life. It broke any kind of shields he had and the feelings, the emotions the man gave him, it was as if he could watch them coming at his body, like zooming arrows through the sky, aimed at him, their heads sharp, glinting from a summer sun, filling his ears with that whooshing noise.

They were at war with each other, armor broken, bodies wounded, ground bloody, trying so hard to come to a standstill, trying so hard not to bare their hearts, to just keep swinging until they had bled enough of their spirit, of their courage and pride, of secrets that were caged in their bones. Because love could drive men wild, turned what had been tamed, untamed, desperate, love made heroes, love made conquerors, love made men feel like giants, feel like warriors, love created compassion, reason, purpose, beauty…but love also brought upon sadness, devastation, cracked hearts and grief, love made men feel like walking skeletons, broke spirits, shattered dreams, created dead ends, love built man made oceans of wasted, regretful tears.

Love could possibly destroy a man more than hatred ever could.

And yet, some part of him, tiny, like a pearl, felt happy that he could love someone with such strength; that his own heart was so bearable. It gave him some sort of pride or perhaps it was that hope; it seemed bleaker now but he would never let the light go out.

Harry sat up in bed. He had most likely missed breakfast by now. There were no classes today which Harry was grateful for. He picked up the piece of parchment that was on his bed. It was another ink drawing. He had done it when he had come back from the dungeons despite his aching wrists. It was as if he were staring down over a fish bowl, taking it from the memory of a dream. He had sketched very lightly the white fish and then the black fish, inking it in carefully. He was surprised at how well it had turned out, how he had drawn their little scales, the shine on their bodies, the eyes, and the glistening glass of the bowl's rim and the light ripple of water.

He now knew why he had admired them so much, something so uncomplicated. It had been the beginnings of love for him, or realization, of how far friendship could reach, how easily loneliness could be cured, how gentle life could be.

He tacked up the drawing on his wall and sat on his legs for a long time looking at it. He was alone in the dorm. He could hear the blustery wind outside, a lamentation of nature. There was only one week left of October. He had spent so much time in this place that when he was a little boy he could only barely begin to imagine. His shoulders slumped somewhat. He had always tried to make his mind reach as far as it could go from Number 4 Privet Drive, had always been bewildered when strange things happened around him. It felt strange to have grown up knowing of a different world but he'd never let go of the little boy from the cupboard under the stairs.

* * *

What brought him out of this weighted stupor was Professor McGonagall. She had come down from the Staff table over to him at lunch. Neither Dumbledore nor Severus was present. The loud chatter around him lessened somewhat. Hermione eyed him tensely before she looked up at McGonagall.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, I believe you are finished eating?" she said, her eyes blinking once behind her spectacles.

Harry hesitated, his hands suddenly becoming numb and he nodded.

"The Headmaster wants me to escort you to his office this afternoon," McGonagall said. "He wishes to speak to you."

Harry's heart gave a shiver and soft mutterings broke out near him. He glanced at Hermione who could only stare back. He nodded slightly and got up from the Gryffindor Table. His eyes briefly held those of Ron who was looking at him, worry transparent over his features. They both knew a long with Harry what this was.

He didn't look up the whole time he followed her. He felt suddenly hot for he was wearing a black thermal long sleeve shirt under his blue jumper and jeans. His old white and gray trainers were staring back up at him with each step until they stopped before the statue of the gargoyle.

"Sugar quill," McGonagall spoke gently.

Harry hopped up onto one of the moving steps and anxiousness gripped at his chest. She gave him a small nod and then he could no longer see her. He knocked on the Headmaster's door lightly.

"Come in," the old voice called from within.

Harry's hand turned the knob and he stepped in slowly.

"Harry, good afternoon," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "Do have a seat."

Harry walked forward and noticed there was a hot cup of tea before the chair he always sat upon before the man's desk. Harry sat down, sitting up straight and he noticed his hands were shaking more so than they had the entire month.

"It has been some time since we last spoke alone," Dumbledore said evenly. "I am sorry if I have caused you stress."

Harry glanced down at his hands before nodding once.

"A lot has happened since…the last time you met with me," the man's voice was steady but Harry could tell there was something different and he could see out of the corner of his eye because he was not looking the man in the face that the blackened, deadened hand had gotten worse. It scared him. "How are you, Harry?"

He couldn't answer truthfully, not to Dumbledore, not to Hermione or anyone, not even to Ms. Gardiner.

"I'm alright…" Harry signed slowly. "Sir…why…why haven't you asked to see me for so long? I don't want to say it…but I have been worried about it…I want to know what I must do to stop Voldemort…" Harry's vision was shaking. "He's…been murdering people…and I'm doing nothing…"

"I know how restless you are feeling, Harry…" the man said quietly. "You must understand…you are not the only one who is waiting on the forefront, and it is as I have told you, you need to push such worries from your mind, you need to focus on your recovery…"

Harry nodded weakly.

"I just don't know...It feels as if my body has given it everything already…to be able to speak again…but then I see it still isn't enough," Harry signed. "I don't want to face Voldemort without my voice…but I'm prepared too…"

"Your body might be prepared, Harry, but your mind is not, your heart is not," Dumbledore said. "But you are healing, Harry…I'm sure you feel that at least."

Harry was still for a moment. Healing. The hole in his heart; was it healing? But the pain, the ache, it still made him surrender…

"Ms. Gardiner tells me that you are excelling easily with Occlumency," he said.

He nodded once more.

"It is good that you are able to have that wall up, Harry, to avoid any sort of manipulation from Voldemort however…your scar, Harry…it hasn't been hurting, has it?"

"Not since the one time, during summer," Harry signed. It had come across his mind only a couple times but he had avoided thinking about it, he had become accustomed to avoiding anything that reminded him of that night. He also remembered the only time he had delved into Voldemort's mind willingly the first time Severus had been summoned in front of him but he didn't know if he should admit that to Dumbledore.

Harry had lifted his hand automatically to touch the lightning-shaped mark.

"It seems as if Lord Voldemort has realized the dangerous access you have to his thoughts and feelings. It appears that he is employing Occlumency against you."

Harry didn't know how to feel about that small bit of information. He didn't know what it would mean from now on. He had known that certain night upon that grassy hill surrounded by mountains that Voldemort had been extremely happy, overjoyed about something but he didn't know what that something had been. The demon's mind had been filled with such triumph; truthfully, all he had felt was how happy the man had been to murder Florean Fortescue.

He didn't miss the connection or the prickling burn in his scar or the visions. He would keep doing what he had not been able to accomplish last year, he would keep Voldemort out no matter if the demon had found control over their minds' connection.

"I am sorry that I haven't been able to meet with you till now, I thought it best to let you have some time to concentrate on your sessions with Ms. Gardiner; especially after the toll the curse put on your body," the Headmaster said.

Harry gave the man a slight nod. He thought that he would have rather have had this meeting long ago than right now, right now he seemed to have too much to deal with in his mind…

"I'm sure you remember when I told you that I have been working on my theory that is the possibility of Voldemort having a weakness?"

Harry nodded, finally lifting his eyes to meet the man's own.

"Well, through his years at Hogwarts as a Slytherin, Tom Riddle was quiet, polite, unusually talented, and very thirsty for knowledge. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. If he ever did try to leave a frightening impression on his fellow Slytherins in their common room, no hint of it reached the Staff," Dumbledore began in a steady voice. "Despite his behavior at the orphanage which he had shown no remorse for he seemed to have resolved to turn over a fresh leaf here at Hogwarts. I resolved to keep a close eye on him. Even though he charmed so many of my colleagues he never did so to me. He was always very guarded with me."

Harry could remember, less than 4 years ago, when the Tom Riddle from the diary had emerged, telling him that Dumbledore had never liked him as much as the other teachers did. He could easily tell that no matter how good of an actor Voldemort had been during his school years that anyone could see the wickedness behind those eyes, the darkness they hid, the need to torture, to abuse, to control. They could have all seen it, like he did, all those years ago, but were fooled by that charm, that handsome face.

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated _friends, _for want of a better term, though it is no doubt that Riddle felt no such affection for any of them," Dumbledore continued and the man's eyes were firm upon Harry's, his expression somewhat wary, fairly solemn. "This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. They were the forerunners of the Death Eaters and some did become the first Death Eaters after graduating."

Harry's eyes lowered briefly before looking back up at Dumbledore.

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts. The few who knew him refused to talk about him; they were terrified," Dumbledore said with a low calmness to his voice. "What I know about him now, I found out after he left Hogwarts."

The old wizard paused, still looking at Harry whose chest felt a weight upon it, it was a bit difficult to breathe. A part of him didn't want to know anything about Voldemort, preferred to stay away from such a dark enigma but if the man thought it was important for him to listen then he knew he should.

"As you may have already realized Harry, it was a mistake to allow such a boy into the school…Now, however, I do not doubt that without being told what he was it would have changed who he became…" he said and those old eyes looked even wearier. "No one could have known then how much hatred was boiling inside an eleven year old boy and I did believe, as I tend to do, in that he would have strived to have a different life, to make a turn on the path that he had been heading down in that orphanage…But of course I was wrong, his path was set, bloodstained and broken…And all I could do during his rise to power was find a way to destroy him…It was a painstaking effort, some of the memories I extracted were no use to me in supporting my hypothesis, they only served to fill in the parts of Tom Riddle's past that I questioned. He wanted to create himself over, leaving behind his birth name, becoming what he is today…"

It wasn't cold in Dumbledore's office but Harry felt cold because all his mind could do was reach out to the memories he had of Voldemort, whether it be from the diary, the night in the graveyard, or the Ministry of Magic, all the visions that had attacked his mind, having believed that he had been becoming bad, had too much of a likeliness to Tom Riddle. He didn't believe such thing anymore of course, and perhaps then when he did he had lost hope.

"There is another memory I wish to show you," Dumbledore said, lifting Harry from his thoughts. "It is not one of mine, but one that I have acquired some time ago. Before Professor Snape began his teaching position as Potions professor, a man named Horace Slughorn held the position. He has long since retired and is quite old. He was, of course, one of Tom Riddle's teachers during Voldemort's time at school. The memory belongs to him. Horace was an excellent teacher, driven by those who showed much talent, like Tom Riddle. Horace is very intelligent but very prideful. He knows of much magic, good and bad…To a student like Tom, Horace was the one he charmed the most…"

Harry felt slightly confused at the mention of the old Hogwarts teacher but he could make a guess as to what Dumbledore was leaning toward.

"This is possibly the most important memory that I have collected that greatly supports my theory," Dumbledore said and stood slowly. Harry stood as well and followed the man over to where the Pensieve was in which he took the silver bowl out from it and placed it to hover stilly between he and Harry like before. Harry waited as Dumbledore reached for a certain labeled crystal vial from the cabinet above the basin and watched as the memory was poured into the Pensieve.

"When you're ready," was all Dumbledore said.

Harry hesitated and the light from the liquid substance glowed upon his face, making him squint somewhat. He leaned in and let himself fall into the memory. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to be standing in a much less dark version of Severus's office and in front of a man he guessed was Horace Slughorn. The man was old but not too old and had short, thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and a gingery-blond mustache. He was a somewhat rotund man. The fabric of his three piece suit was very loud. The man was sitting well back in a comfortable winged armchair with a glass of wine in his right hand, his other searching through a box of crystallized pineapple.

Half a dozen boys were sitting before Slughorn around a rectangular wooden table. They looked to be in their mid-teens. Harry swallowed hard when he recognized Voldemort at once in the group. He was the most handsome out of all of them. His right hand lay carelessly upon the arm of his chair. There was a ring on his finger, the band was golden and the jewel looked black, gleaming from the brightness in the room.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" Riddle asked with a relaxed tone. Harry wanted to shiver because of that face and he didn't know why. That face still held those hard, vicious eyes.

"Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you, could I?" Slughorn said lightly; he had bubbly sort of voice. "And thank you for the pineapple by the way; you're quite right, it is my favorite. But how did you know?"

Riddle smiled, those light eyes growing darker.

"Intuition," he answered, blinking coolly.

Slughorn eyed Riddle for a moment and somewhere in the room a clock chimed. Harry looked around to find the small silver clock on the man's desk; it was 11 at night.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" Slughorn said. "You'd better get going boys or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

Slughorn pulled himself out of his chair and carried his empty glass over to his desk as the boys filed out. Riddle, however, stayed behind.

"Look sharp, Tom," Slughorn said as he had turned around to see that the boy hadn't left. "You don't want to be caught out of bed after hours, and you a prefect…"

Riddle had walked with a slow poise over to the professor. Harry had found that he had walked over to the door be able to see his face.

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something," Tom Riddle said calmly.

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away…" Slughorn said as he set the empty glass down.

"Sir, I wondered what you know about…about Horcruxes?"

Something strange happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog so it was the only thing that Harry could see and then a voice boomed out all around him, Slughorn's voice:

"I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again!"

Suddenly Harry's body was rising up from the memory, through the darkness and his feet felt the floor of Dumbledore's office and he opened his eyes to find himself staring at the old wizard whose face was serene, eyes faintly shadowed.

"Was there something wrong with that memory?" Harry signed. He felt as if his hands were buzzing.

"Yes, this memory has been tampered with," Dumbledore answered.

Harry waited, his heart felt shaky as did his legs and he wondered what was so important about a tampered memory.

"Horace Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections," the Headmaster said.

"Why would he do that?" Harry signed, not really knowing what he thought of the retired professor named Slughorn. He seemed to have enjoyed the company of students that had been around him in his office, of Tom Riddle's presence, and Harry had certainly seen that pride in his very light gray eyes.

"I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," Dumbledore said. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating the part in which he does not wish me to see. But it is very crudely done, which is good, because that shows that the true memory is there beneath the alterations."

"I don't understand, Professor…" Harry signed, lowering his eyes. "What does it mean?"

"Harry, it is the true memory that we are in need of," Dumbledore said and he had seemed to stand up straighter.

"But…where is…Slughorn?" Harry signed and finger spelt the old teacher's last name.

"In a hospital bed, living out his final few months," the old wizard said softly.

Harry's expression grew solemn. It was a moment before he signed:

"This memory…is important for you to find out how to destroy Voldemort…"

"Yes, quite so," Dumbledore said.

"So…Slughorn…in the memory…must have told Tom Riddle something…he shouldn't have…" Harry signed.

"Yes…I acquired this tampered memory the summer before last, before Horace grew ill," Dumbledore said quietly. "And now…I have tried to get the true memory from him but still, he is persistent, perhaps afraid, undoubtedly guilty and shamed…"

"Doesn't he realize…how important it is?" Harry signed.

"I am sure he does…and as much as it is terrible to admit this…I do not think he will give up the real memory until his dying day…"

Harry took a breath and signed:

"He can't be cured?" Harry signed without realizing.

"I'm afraid not…His illness has been kept secret, only few who admired him know," Dumbledore said. "I believe he has no desire to live even a day's worth of such shame having someone else know what he had told Voldemort that night…"

Harry nodded once.

"So…when he dies…you think he will leave you the real memory?" Harry signed slowly.

"Yes, Harry…Horace is regularly a good man, like many who were manipulated by Lord Voldemort…" Dumbledore said.

Harry's body unexpectedly felt tired and his head ached dully. What did the memory mean?

"You must have questions, Harry but it isn't the time for me to answer them," Dumbledore said.

Harry's eyes automatically glanced at Dumbledore's injured hand as he nodded. It was an answer he expected if he had asked his questions. He felt more confused than ever and every single thought he was having seemed to bump into others.

"When I receive the memory Harry, I will call for you," the Headmaster said.

Harry nodded, not looking the man in the eyes.

"I am sorry once more, I would not have shown you this memory if—" Dumbledore began.

"No…it's fine, it's better to know what you've been trying to do…instead of being left in the dark…" Harry signed.

"Well…have a good evening, Harry…" Dumbledore said.

* * *

Drifting, it felt like he was drifting away from Severus but he hadn't done anything wrong, truthfully and yet that Friday night instead of going to a lesson he had taken Hermione to the Room of Requirement and had told her about the tampered memory. She had said she knew nothing about _Horcruxes. _The word sounded funny in Harry's head and awkward coming from the girl. He had been surprised however because he had been sure that Hermione would have known about whatever they were.

The weekend after went by like a clouded haze to Harry's eyes. He had been mindlessly studying and writing essays throughout the hours next to Hermione in the warm Gryffindor common room. He had been half tempted to go to Severus's office but his feet just wouldn't move and his heart was afraid, dreadfully afraid. He felt as if he should be braver than this but a piece of him was hurt that Severus was treating him this way when only weeks ago they had seemed happy with one another.

It felt like his heart was waiting for the worst to happen even though he was in love with Severus. He just didn't feel ready to reveal his true feelings to such a man and how it was so much different than admitting he was attracted to Severus he didn't know. Love seemed like such a giant step to him, especially because of who they were but there was no changing it and Harry knew he would have to take the leap sooner or later, no matter how far the drop was, no matter what waited at the bottom.

And the hours crept by, he could hardly sleep during the nights and he knew his body missed Severus's touch, his presence but he had told the man to take his time, that he would wait but the waiting was torture and when Monday came Harry's body felt weird to him and his feet felt as if they were walking on weakened ground. He was actually scared to see Severus and it was a challenge to walk next to Hermione to the Potions classroom.

They were still working with different variations of salves and their effects and Severus had barely said a word at the start of the hour and a half before disappearing into his office. Harry felt as if there was a ticking time bomb in his chest and his concentration was disastrous. It wasn't fair that things had turned out this way but what could he do? He couldn't try to force the man to tell him again, he couldn't bear if those black eyes looked so sorrowful again.

And when class was dismissed Harry found himself lingering and wondering what could he possibly talk to the man about? He couldn't discuss his meeting with Dumbledore, he couldn't treat the man as an outlet for his stress, but still, Severus was here, feet away and acting as if Harry was invisible. It was painful and the room was quiet but his thoughts were so loud in his head, as if they were screaming, howling. He didn't know what Horcruxes were, he didn't know Voldemort's weakness, he didn't know what was wrong with Dumbledore, he didn't know when he would ever speak again, he didn't know when Severus would ever tell him whatever it was he wanted to say but wasn't ready to, he didn't know if such a man loved him and he didn't know how to tell this man that he was in love with him but right now, as it felt as if the walls were vibrating from the echoes inside his mind and the iciness in the room was gripping his throat, right now he wished he could shout it out loud to Severus, to the whole earth because this love, this magnitude of love felt like it was breaking his ribcage, he could hardly stand, could hardly think, could barely see.

There was a rush of blood to his head. His quill rolled off the table, hitting the stoned floor with such a loud clatter to such a silent room and he was walking, robes swaying lightly, his eyes shadowed and on the man that was standing before his desk, organizing more jars of salve, standing so straight, so tall, eyes so exhausted, skin like moonlight, that white collar like a priest, something sacred, those damned black eyes were sucking him in like a brutal tornado, it wasn't fair, but his legs were moving and his shoulders felt so heavy with everything he had no answers to and he had no idea what he was doing until he was before the man, at his side, where he wished to always stay a thousand times over, a million times…

The man's head was down, those black locks of hair framing his face softly, wrapping shadows over it and Harry's hands had grabbed whatever he could see, a fist full of the man's robes, fingers wrapped around a strong wrist and he pulled, pulled with such power that he didn't know he was so confident of and then those lips were against his, like pure energy, his heart beating, slamming against his chest like a stone, it hurt, it hurt so much and his eyes burned and they were closed but the kiss lasted for what seemed like ages, and he smelt that fragrance, the man's skin, his hair, it was so lovely and he felt like crying, felt like begging, praying that nothing, nothing could ever tear them apart.

He parted, slowly, not realizing his cheeks were searing with heat and then he had turned, swiftly, hurrying off to his desk to grab his books and his bag and he was out the door, trying not to wonder what the man's face had looked like.

* * *

"How could this be possible!?" Hermione's shocked tone reached his ears quickly.

He sat up straight in his chair after she slammed an old, heavy open book down upon the table before him. He looked up at her face to see the immense frustration in her brown eyes and saw that she had put her hair into a messy bun. Herbology had been canceled that Tuesday morning because Professor Sprout was ill and in the Hospital Wing so Hermione had dragged Harry off to the library to do some more research on Horcruxes.

"Wha—" Harry began to sign.

"I haven't found one single explanation of what Horcruxes do!" she said, her voice had risen. "Not a single one! I've been right through the restricted section and even the most _horrible_ books, where they all tell you how to brew the most _gruesome _potions—nothing! All I could find was this in the introduction to _Magic Most Evile—_listen to this, 'Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction…' I mean, why mention it then?" Hermione slammed the book shut and it let out a ghostly wail. "Oh, shut up," she snapped and sat back down hotly.

"Never thought the library would ever fail you…" Harry signed and rested his chin on is folded arms once more.

"Neither did I…" Hermione said tightly. "Don't you think you should ask Dumbledore?" Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

Harry shook his head.

"I don't know…When I saw him…I don't know," Harry signed and narrowed his eyes. "There's something wrong with him…his hand is still hurt…it looked worse…"

"Do you think it was because of…him?" Hermione whispered. "They did duel…"

"That's what I thought…" Harry signed. "I'm worried about it…If it could be healed then he would have done so by now…"

Hermione didn't reply but her shoulders fell a bit.

"We should go, Defense is in ten minutes," Hermione said and she heaved the old book up and went off to return it.

All through Professor Royle's lecture Harry had thought of nothing but Severus even if his hand moved numbly along with his quill, taking down scribbled notes, his vision blurred upon his notebook. He had a dream the night before of the man and it had felt cold all around him, and everything was blurred or smudged in black, gray and white and the only heat came from wherever those hands were touching him, the only sound he heard was the way the man whispered to him and the words washed over his ears and there was sand around them, lifted up by the sea breeze and somewhere above was a white sun, bright and all he could really remember that had been clear in the dream was the smell of saltwater.

He had woken up hard and in need of a freezing shower and afterward he had looked at his face in the mirror, trying to see if it had changed, if love had changed his eyes; they only looked tired and softened.

He hadn't realized that class had been dismissed until Royle had dropped his hand on his shoulder and shook him once but it had been a strong shake, startling him.

"Dead to the world, are we?" Royle said with a small smirk and a risen eyebrow before walking over to his desk.

Harry put his things away back into his bag and stood up from his desk, turning his head to watch as Hermione was the last one to leave the class. He set his bag down upon the desk and made his way slowly over to the young professor who was searching through a stack of parchment.

"Something on your mind, Potter?" Royle said as he straightened the pile.

Harry hesitated, taking two slow strides along the man's desk before lifting himself up to sit upon it, his eyes on Royle.

Royle set down the pile and turned to face Harry. Harry averted his eyes to the silver buttons upon the man's black vest.

"What it is, Potter?" Royle pressed.

"Do you love Ms. Gardiner?" Harry signed, forcing his eyes to meet Royle's gray ones. The sky outside was dark, making the room feel as if it were evening and not noon.

"And why do you want to know that? I'm starting to think you have a little crush on her, Potter," Royle said, his eyes leering at him.

"Of course not!" Harry signed quickly as heat rushed to his face.

And Royle let out a short laugh, the fake accusation in his eyes returning to that laid-back though lighthearted expression.

"Sorry, I just said it to see your reaction," Royle said.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Are you going to answer my question?" Harry signed.

"Why, did she say something?" the man said, leaning against the desk somewhat, arms crossed.

"Nothing…that would be considered good…" Harry signed as his hands trembled softly.

Royle was silent at this.

"Well, do you—" Harry began to sign a bit forcibly.

"Isn't it obvious? I know you're sixteen but you're smart…" Royle said in almost a mutter.

Harry waited before signing:

"So…you've loved her for a long time then?"

Royle let his hands fall at his side before taking a seat upon the desk as well.

"It's been years, yes," Royle said. "But it feels as if I've loved her all my life…"

Harry's eyes broadened somewhat at the man's words. Royle was not looking at him but rather at the floor, his hands placed on the desk. While Harry's shoes were many inches from the floor Royle's boots were almost touching it.

"Do you think she still loves you?" Harry signed as Royle glanced at him.

A small grin appeared on the man's face.

"I know she does…" was all Royle said.

"Then why does she avoid you?" Harry signed, leaning forward somewhat, feeling eager, a part of him forgetting all the problems he was having.

"That's complicated…" the man said in almost a whisper.

It had begun to rain and Harry could see the small drops of water hitting the large windows.

"But why?" Harry signed quickly.

Royle's eyes lifted and they stared straight into Harry's own.

"I hurt her, in the worst way possible to someone like Sophia…" he said.

Harry had been about to ask why had he tried to end his own life but stopped himself.

"But if you love her…why did you…?" Harry's hands felt numb as he started to sign and he had a feeling that Royle could easily read his lips just like Severus could.

"Because I was weak…and I was afraid…" Royle said and it was almost gentle and his voice sounded raspy.

"What…" Harry started but forgot to sign.

"You should go to lunch, Harry," Royle interrupted him and then got off the desk and he watched the man walk passed the chalkboard and then up the staircase that led to his office. When the door shut Harry stood, trying not to think of how much the sudden conversation had shaken him, trying not to let it bother him.

It was well after lunch that Harry had realized the man had called him by his first name.

* * *

They were just quick flashes that he saw: _A mother cradling her new baby daughter, smiling and holding her tiny hand. A wooden, sun stained floor covered in books. A man with such dark green eyes waving a wand that created colorful bubbles in the air…_

Harry blinked quickly as he was now staring at Ms. Gardiner who was sitting before him, smiling brightly.

"Very good, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said gently.

Harry had been surprised that he had slipped through the dark void at the surface of her mind and into her memories, memories most likely from her childhood. It had been like performing Legilimency but very clumsily.

They were in Dumbledore's office and this Wednesday morning the sun was doing its best to fight against the heavy rain clouds. Ms. Gardiner wore dark red robes today under her white coat. A white, thinly knitted scarf was undone on her neck. Her hair was down, shiny and wavy.

"So, Harry…I heard about…what happened with Professor Snape," Ms. Gardiner said carefully.

Harry's brief spring of happiness vanished. He had been trying not to dwell too much on the man though they hadn't had a lesson at all this week and Harry was growing angry at not being able to see the man and he was wondering, hopelessly, that Severus's feelings for him had changed but he didn't want to believe such a thing.

"He just…overreacted…like he always does…" Harry signed, not looking her in the eyes.

"I see…" Ms. Gardiner said. "Well…do you think you will still have a service for your godfather…?"

After a short moment Harry nodded once, still avoiding her eyes. Lately he had been wondering of what she would think of him if he told her he was in love with Severus. Would she respond like Hermione had done? Or because she was older than him would she only see what was much too different between them?

"I'm going to write a letter…instead," Harry signed. He hadn't wanted to go back to the man and ask him for the piece of the mirror, he was afraid that he'd wind up telling the man something out of resentment and he would regret it even if Severus had said such a thing days before, a thing that had reminded Harry of the old Severus, but then those tears had almost broke him…

"I'm sure that would be best," Ms. Gardiner said.

"Did you…want to try that exercise again?" Harry signed.

"No, not today, you look a bit tired," she said.

Harry gave a small nod. He felt more than just tired; he felt things that he couldn't tell anyone about.

"Have you been meditating?" she asked.

"Yes…" Harry signed. It was mostly true. He had tried to meditate during the passing days when he had free time however he couldn't find that inner balance.

"Have you had any dreams about your godfather, lately?" Ms. Gardiner said.

"Just a couple…" Harry signed. "They're mostly similar to the ones I've been having…"

"And what do you feel now when you have those types of dreams?"

Harry pulled at the ends of his robe's sleeves before answering:

"I feel…like I'm still chasing after him…trying to reach him…" Harry signed slowly. "Sometimes in my dreams…I forget he's dead…Sometimes…I want to sleep forever so I don't have to remember it when I wake up…"

"And do you still feel guilty when you feel happy, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner spoke quietly.

Harry didn't answer right away because lately he hadn't been feeling much happiness.

"Sometimes…" Harry signed. He blinked slowly. "He made me the happiest…then…and I think now…I just wish I had him here…I still need him…"

All she did was reach out and grab his hand, squeezing it and the warmth from her touch just made him miss those strong hands, and he found himself praying that Severus hadn't given up on him…

* * *

He didn't care that he was missing Potions. He was frustrated and he kept thinking that Severus was acting almost childish since he had been missing their lessons on purpose, avoiding Harry this way. The common room was empty and he was seated at a table with the empty sheet of parchment before him and his pen in his hand. His heart felt constricted.

How could he write a letter to his dead godfather?

And it was something he missed entirely; Sirius's letters. It had hurt beyond anything to know the man would never write to him again. But something about writing a letter to the man felt healing, felt like it might lift the ache in his chest. So he began, struggling with the words:

_Dear Sirius, _

_ I don't know where you are but I wish I did. I know you are gone. But I feel as if you're still here even if it's almost like I hate to remember you. If I think hard enough, I could remember the way your hands felt on my face that night when Hermione and I rescued you. I could remember the way your voice sounded, how your eyes looked, how I could tell that no matter what Azkaban did to your mind there was so much love in your eyes, and that love was for me. You had given me what I had always wanted, someone to look up to, to guide me, to look after me, to make sure I was growing up to be a good person. I hope, for the short time we were in each other's lives, that you were proud of me._

_ For the longest time everything I did would remind me of you. I'd think you'd just turn up out of thin air almost or let me know where to meet you. And I know you wouldn't want me to cry for you, you would want me to be strong and remember everything about you and then laugh. _

_ But I'm sorry for how it ended and for what I did and what it's done to me. If you can see me from wherever you are I want you to know I'll be ok, someday, because I've stopped looking for you. _

_ There are plenty of things we missed out on and I guess that's what makes most people sad when someone dies. You never got to tell me much about The Marauders and I'm sure there was so much to say and I would have listened to it all._

_ I wish I knew more about you, Sirius. I wish I knew everything, even the things you regret. _

_ I've done some things that I know you'd probably never approve of. I hope you're not angry with me for who I am._

_ And there are thousands of things I want to say to you but it doesn't matter anymore. _

_ I miss you beyond anything, beyond what separates you from me. I love you, wherever you are, I love you. _

_ -Your godson._

Harry had set the pen down gently and he was surprised to find that his eyes were dry as he stared down at the letter, the ink setting in. He didn't know what to feel. It was like he was trying so hard to live in two different worlds; the past and the present and he knew it was impossible to live that way. And he knew which one he needed to let go of.

"Hey…"

The sudden voice startled him and he flipped the letter over quickly before turning to see Ron who was alone.

"Don't you have Potions?" Ron said a bit awkwardly.

Harry nodded once.

"I didn't feel like going…" Harry signed.

"Look…I know you think I'm a twat but…" Ron started as he became flustered.

Harry looked to the floor. He knew he shouldn't act this way towards his best friend, knew more than anyone that life was too short to spend it acting like a prat and now he knew how much of a struggle it was to confess to someone, to tell someone that you loved them. Ron just had a horrible way of dealing with peer pressure and of confusing feelings and maybe he felt like he wasn't good enough for a girl like Hermione, as if he was second best, as if there would always be someone better to take his place.

"Do you like Lavender?" Harry signed, stopping the boy from continuing his muttering.

"Uh…" Ron let out the noise.

"Then why do you let her stick her tongue down your throat?" Harry signed.

"I don't know!" Ron shouted suddenly. "I don't know anymore but I can't take it!"

Harry had almost fallen off the chair as Ron had come close to him so quickly.

"All she wants to do is snog me! Look, my lips are chapped!" the ginger haired boy said, leaning in to show him the evidence.

Harry grimaced and shoved the boy away with his right hand.

"I don't know what to do Harry!"

"Stop shouting," Harry signed as he got to his feet.

"I know she probably hates me now…" the boy muttered.

"Who?" Harry signed, glad that the boy had lowered his voice.

"Hermione!"

Harry shut his eyes against Ron's yelling.

"Look…why don't you just tell her how you feel," Harry signed. "But you have to break up with Lavender first…"

"I can't do that," Ron hissed.

"Why not?" he signed.

"Because! She'll go _mental_…The only reason I'm here now is because she has Divination," Ron said hastily.

"Well, you can't talk to Hermione unless you break up with Lavender first, you'll just make it worse if you don't…" Harry signed.

"Oh god…" Ron let out and slumped down in a chair.

"So…you don't think I fancy Hermione anymore?" Harry signed and then crossed his arms.

Ron looked up at him sheepishly.

"I'm sorry…" Ron said. "You can have a go at me if you want…"

Harry sighed.

"Just so you're aware of this, Hermione's like a sister to me," Harry signed.

Ron nodded.

"I accept your apology…even though I do want to punch you," Harry signed before he turned and folded the letter on the table.

"How have you been anyway? I notice you haven't gone to your lessons with Snape, is he being a git again?" Ron said.

Harry pocketed the letter and turned to the face his best friend and no matter what he tried to tell himself he knew he'd never be able to tell Ron about him and Severus, at least not now.

"I don't know…he's been busy I guess…" Harry signed with nervous hands.

"Right…" he said. "Hey, so what happened with Dumbledore?"

So Harry told Ron what exactly had happened and of course Ron had never heard the word "Horcrux" before and they got to play one game of wizard's chess before Lavender Brown skipped into the common room and whisked "Won Won" away.

* * *

That Halloween morning Harry had woken up to the rumble of thunder and the sound of his dorm's windows shaking. The morning was dark and no matter how many hours went by it remained dark as the heavy storm was taking its course. Harry had come back from Herbology mostly dry with the help of Hermione's repellent charms and he could tell that Hogwarts was in a festive mood even though he was not. The student body's energy, despite the storm outside, was lively and the ghosts about the castle were very talkative.

Harry hadn't decided to tell Hermione that he and Ron were sort of on speaking terms again because he honestly didn't know how the girl would feel about that. He wasn't surprised that Professor Royle had let them do whatever they pleased in class that day saying that it was a holiday and therefore no reason to teach them but he did pass out giant sugar quills and chocolate frogs to everyone.

And when it came time for dinner Harry could not admire the extravagant decorations around the Great Hall, the live bats, the color changing candles, the giant jack-o-lanterns that floated above him, the singing skeletons nor the numerous amounts of delectable sweets after a filling feast.

Because something had sparked inside of him, glowing like the fire in the hovering pumpkins above, burning him. He was tired of dealing with Severus, of being avoided, he was so very angry that the man couldn't even try to talk to him. He wasn't a child and he didn't deserve the man shutting him out like this. It had been more than a week that Severus had spoken a word to him. He wouldn't wait idly by anymore; he had had enough of it, enough of feeling weak, of feeling this sort of torture.

Hermione had been right. There was only one thing he needed to do. And something rose up in him, something strong and vibrant, it was determination, and even if his heart rattled with fear he didn't care.

He was tired of standing still.

And he was ready.

He had slipped away from the Halloween Feast unnoticed and his feet carried him forward with fast strides, the bottom of his robes picking up with his speed. The cold dungeon air made him shiver instantly but it did not daunt his resolve. If Severus wasn't going to come to him, then he would go to Severus and if the man didn't want to see him he would force him to.

Harry hadn't realized he was out of breath until he reached the office door. His heart felt like a whipping chain in his chest and he had no idea how he was even standing but there was no going back, the road was too steep to go back, there was only one way, it was time to jump now, to take a leap of faith so to speak.

So he knocked, loudly and waited. And waited. But the man did not answer. Harry's anger grew and he felt like blasting the door down. Before taking out his wand he turned the heavy knob and to his disclosure it wasn't locked. Caution spread though his body slowly like tree sap and he opened the door and the office inside was nothing but shadow. There was no firelight, no lamp light, just the gleam of metal and glass.

Harry let out a shuddered breath. He knew his way to the next door. He shut the office door behind him and it grew darker still, so dark that he had to wait till his eyes adjusted to it. He walked slowly toward the door to Severus's private quarters and the beating of his heart was in his ears, so loud it could have echoed in the dead silence around him. He hated that he was so afraid.

Harry found the door's knob, shutting his eyes before turning it. It was unlocked as well. More concern crept over his skin. He opened it. The entry way was shadowed but the sitting room was dimly lit and there was a fire in the hearth. His shaky vision found Severus. The man was sitting at the round black wooden table. He didn't have his overcoat on and the collar of his dress shirt was unbuttoned. The man's eyes were cast toward the fire as he was sitting up straight. His hair was wavier than normal and for a moment, he didn't know why, but he looked at the man's shoes that were always so shined. Harry had the feeling that the man had been waiting for him.

There were plenty of things wrong with the scene before him. There was a large bottle that was almost empty of the amber colored liquid. There was a short glass next to it filled with ice and the drink. It looked as if the man had thrown a few books from the shelves about the area, some sort of silver trinket was broken next to Harry's feet. Harry looked to the man again as he closed the door noiselessly behind him. Those black eyes looked glossy and strained and angry and hurt and there were shadows underneath them. The man's hands were folded into fists upon his knees and the knuckles of Severus's right hand were busted and bleeding.

Harry walked forward, his head down, something pulling him ahead even though fear was drowning his senses. Before Harry could even get remotely close to the man he spoke:

"Stop…" That voice was hoarse but light.

Harry stopped, lifting his eyes, his expression still. He watched as Severus took a drink from the glass and the ice clattered as the rest of the liquid was drained. The glass was set down and then the man stood.

Harry's hands moved on their own:

"I need…to tell you something…"

"I said stop…" Severus said quietly. Those black pools were changing every second as if the man was fighting within himself.

"But…" Harry's hands had stayed still at his sides, his lips barely parting to say the word.

"Enough!"

The sudden shout made him flinch, caught the breath in his throat. Harry remained where he was and so did Severus.

"I'm sorry…" Harry's lips moved on their own.

The man's expression grew almost desolate.

"No…" Severus said in a breath of a whisper and he rubbed at his face with his left hand, his jaw clenching. His hands dropped at his sides.

"Harry…" the man began and his voice was nervous.

He realized the man's body was trembling or shaking. Why was he afraid? He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to say what he needed to say, even without the sound of it, he could bear that, he just needed Severus to know, he needed to know that he had placed his heart in the man's hands…

Harry watched as Severus shut his eyes, squeezing them shut, those lips pressing together, teeth gritting, face almost pained. What sort of inner struggle was the man having and why couldn't he get his legs to move? You were supposed to comfort someone when they were in pain, when something was wrong, but he couldn't move.

"Harry…" Severus whispered and those black eyes were open once more, locks of hair waved and touching the man's face. "I think it is best…that we take a break from one another…"

It was as if lightning had struck his body, as if the earth had cracked open beneath him and he was falling so fast he was impossibly disoriented, his head spinning, his ears filling with a crying ringing sound and his heart, it was like he had swallowed it, choking on it, and he couldn't take in a breath.

Harry's expression was distraught, eyes widening, lips parted. What was happening? How was this happening?

"What?" his lips moved but they felt asleep.

"We need time…you need time…away from me," Severus said and those words shook.

"What…are you saying?" Harry managed to sign and something like fury was itching at his chest, every muscle in his body, his throat felt like it was searing with fire.

"You heard what I said…" Severus started.

"I heard it fine but I don't understand it," Harry signed and clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. "What has this whole week been? You haven't said a word to me…haven't wanted to see me…and now…now you're telling me…Why? Why!?"

Blood was rushing in his veins, his heart thumping like a galloping race horse and this moment, with the air so thick and cold around him that it seemed to tear at his insides, was hurting so much to live through.

"It's what is best for you…This…this isn't what you need…you're young…" Severus said and those dark eyes were not looking at him but rather moving back and forth, filled with ache, uncertainty, and fear.

"No…no, why are you saying all this!?" Harry tried to shout but the words were silent and his hands were held tight into fists.

"Harry…please…" Severus had shut his eyes again and then opened them to stare at Harry.

"I don't understand…You don't mean this…" Harry signed and his eyes were burning.

"Yes, I do," Severus said strongly as if he had stood up straighter, those eyes, however glossed they were, seemed to harden. "You were mislead…and I was careless…and greedy…and all the while you've followed a long with me…but it needs to stop, you are sixteen, you have not had the chance to be sixteen, to be with someone your age…"

"What is wrong with you?" Harry signed forcibly, his eyes shutting tight against the dangerous anger that hammered inside him. "What are you doing? All this time…all of the things that you've said, kept telling me…why are you making up all these lies!? I know what you're saying isn't true so stop it!"

"It is true!" Severus said loudly. "I am not saying that I don't care for you, I am not saying that the things that I have expressed toward you are false, I have never lied about what I feel toward you…I do want you, I want to be with you…"

"Then why are you pushing me away like this?" Harry signed quickly and his whole body was quivering, his eyes born with hot tears, his face reddening and still his legs would not move.

"Because…I cannot bear to hold you back from the life you could be having, a better life! I will not take such a chance away from you, you do not deserve that!"

"No—"

"I can't pretend anymore!" Severus yelled, his face filled with such agony and Harry had never seen the man look like this. "I won't! I won't take advantage of you _anymore! _It makes me sick to know what I have done to you! I've realized it so long ago and I still kept going!"

"Please…" Harry's lips moved and he didn't know why Severus was saying such things, he didn't understand the words but he could hear the horrible pain in them, could see how angry the man was with himself.

"No…no! I will not reason with it anymore…no matter how unable you are to see the dark things in me, no matter how long you could go on without realizing it…because you are far too kind…" Severus's voice sounded as if it was breaking. "You are much too kind to me…and you think I deserve it, you are so wrong, Harry…I've blinded you with words, with affection and my own selfish kindness…I have been devoted to you…but not once did I think of how you truly felt…because all I cared for was how much of yourself you were willing to give me…and I took it, I took it like some beggar…I was more starved for it than you were…and this is the most cruel that I have ever been to you…"

"But…I want to be with you…" Harry signed with shivering hands, the tears building up on their own behind his glasses.

Severus began to shake his head slowly, shutting his eyes and opening them. They looked so exhausted.

"No…you are settling for me…you are staying where you feel safe, wanted, cared-for…" the man said and he gritted his teeth again.

"That's not true…" Harry said mutely.

"Have you ever been in love!? You've only kissed one girl, you've never even been with a woman in that way, you're a virgin, you haven't—"

"That has nothing to do with anything! What kind of person do you think I am!? You think I'm shallow? You think I'm just some messed up, misdirected teenager who doesn't know what to do with his hormones? Who has no idea of where his life is going? How dare you!" Harry had signed and mouthed these words with such force and he was breathless, angry, confused and hurt beyond reason. Everything was spiraling out of control, out of his hands and shattering to pieces before his eyes.

"You do not understand the way I_ feel_; you're not seeing it from my eyes!" Severus said with venom. "I'm older than you! By twenty years! I know what it is like to waste your life away, to find a comfortable place and wallow in it forever, to be so bitter that you do not recognize any kind of happiness—"

"But this is my life!" Harry wanted to cry out. "I choose what to do with it, not you or anyone else! I care about you, I am attracted to you, I want to be with you, I don't want that to ever change, I've told you before, I've been with you all this time, you've shown me so much…You _saved _me from a bitter life…"

"No…I haven't saved you from anything…but I will…" Severus said tightly. "I'll save you from me, from my pain, and my burdens…you do not need them, I don't want to hurt you with them…I don't want to give you a life of regret…"

Harry's body was trembling with disbelief and he felt sick.

"This is the only time I've ever thought you were acting selfish…" Harry signed with his eyes cast on the stoned floor. "Don't you think that I believe in a future? Don't you think I'm ready to know you, all of you, instead of waiting patiently for whenever that composure will slip and I just get mere glimpses? Don't you know how much I worry about you? How I never want you to be alone…?"

"It's just pity, Harry…" Severus said lowly.

"Shut up!" Harry cried noiselessly and then his feet were moving on their own and in a second he was before the man, grabbing at that dress shirt, anger flooding his brain and his eyes, like the ocean's surface, glared into those bottomless black pools.

"I don't care if I'm sixteen! I don't care if I'm a virgin! I don't care if I'm mute! I don't care what you say! I want to be with you! I know what I feel, I'm not naïve!"

Harry wished his voice could reach those ears and tears were streaming down his face, his heart beat so loud in his head it was deafening and he was breathing hard, pulling down on the man's shirt, shaking uncontrollably. How could Severus do this to them? Why? Why now did he have to be cruel again? Why now when he had come to love him so much he couldn't stand it? Why did things always have to change?

He tried to reach up to kiss those lips.

"Harry…let go," Severus bit out and the man's strong hands grabbed his wrists and yanked Harry's hands from the hold upon the shirt and then he was shoved away and he stumbled back and fell to the floor, hard. He opened his eyes and glared up at the man and quickly stood, despising the distance between them.

"So what? What do you want me to do? You want me to go out and live a little? Date around and see what I'm missing!?" Harry spat out. He had enough with signing; he was too frustrated to get his shaking hands to cooperate.

Severus's eyes still held that pain and fear and they looked so hurt and the man was still shaking.

"And then what? If I don't like it I come back to you!? Is that what you want, you sodding git!?" Harry's hands were clenched into fists. He was completely beside himself.

And the man was silent.

"Well that doesn't make any sense!"

"None of this makes any sense!" Severus shouted angrily. "Everything that I ever knew, you ripped apart, destroyed it!"

Harry didn't know what to do. It was a vicious cycle. Why couldn't he just have that peace? Like on the shores upon that beach, or from the soft music in that restaurant, the rhythm of that piano? Why wasn't he allowed to keep it?

_Don't you love me? _

"Why are you doing this to me? Do you want me to hate you?" Harry's body was still, his eyes bright behind the slipping tears and he wondered what had happened to the boy he used to be, brave and courageous, like the lion he represented with red and gold. He had faced dragons, dementors, giant spiders, a monstrous three headed dog, Voldemort, death…why was love so unconquerable?

_I need to tell you…_

"I…"

_I love you…_

"I WAS THE ONE!" Severus shouted so suddenly that it shocked his heart.

Harry's eyes lifted to see the man's face. It was tormented by grief, guilt, agony.

"I was the one who overhead the prophecy! I was the one who, like a _good_ servant, slithered back to my master and repeated it! 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...'"

That velvet voice was broken and those black eyes, so rich, so lit up by tears, hypnotized his soul.

"A baby born at the end of July…and he chose you…" the man's voice was just a whisper.

"I'm the reason your mother and father are DEAD!"

And nothing could have prepared him to hear those words. He would never have imagined that such a secret lived behind those eyes. His body couldn't feel anything, his feet didn't feel the ground below him and his heart, he couldn't feel that either or maybe it was in too much pain for his senses to register. Everything seemed blank and lights were blinking in and out of his vision and maybe his brain was screaming at him, he couldn't breathe, like the oxygen around him had burned away because of those words, words that he prayed came from a dream, a nightmare, words that couldn't be true, it wasn't possible.

He felt something sink inside of him. He felt the agony begin to slice at his insides and the disappointment fell upon him like an anvil. It was too much. It had always been too much. His life was so wrecked. He couldn't think of anything, not one thing.

* * *

"Why are you doing this to me? Do you want me to hate you?"

The boy's body was like a statue, those bright eyes drowning in tears shaded over his wretched soul. He had been trying, in one last attempt, to keep the truth hidden, to keep the confession in, to push the boy away with anything, even lies, even truths that he never wanted to admit but he was done. He had tried to make it easier by staying away from Harry every chance he could, as if by not being with the boy it would make it less devastating when he lost him, and it had been the worst kind of torment he had ever felt.

But he was a masochist, a wild beast driven by greed and madness, he wanted the pain, he wanted to suffer for his sins, that was what he deserved. He didn't deserve love or happiness or a future, he didn't deserve those eyes or a smile against a summer's blue sky, or those hands to hold in the dead of winter, or candle lit dinners, or a thin waist to grab with desire, or readied lips to kiss above the softest silk, he didn't deserve to wake up to a warm body against his, a joining heartbeat like a fluttering wing, or a matching soul to caress his own withered core.

He didn't deserve Harry's innocence or life or love, not his kindness or compassion or forgiveness. He was broken, his composure and refined edges smashed to oblivion, he couldn't hide the endless pain, couldn't bury his sins, couldn't carry the bones of the dead.

And his love, his brave love, would it go unrequited? Doused like the flame in a lamp, rising up like smoke into the massive sky above, to live among the deceased light of the stars, would it happen once more in this wayward life of his?

"I WAS THE ONE!" the words tore from his throat and his soul and his heart and he was wide open and the words continued to come alive:

"I was the one who overhead the prophecy! I was the one who, like a _good_ servant, slithered back to my master and repeated it! 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...'"

He felt sick. Felt young. Felt stupid. He was such a fool, he was so lost.

"A baby born at the end of July…and he chose you…" He wished his own voice would stop working.

"I'm the reason your mother and father are DEAD!"

It had been the worst time in his miserable existence. The biggest mistake he had ever made, the most evil act. He had traded up a life for his master's rewarding stare. He had been nothing of a man then, worthless and used. He had failed himself a thousand times over.

And the red heat reached the boy's face, darkening and those eyes were stricken, building up more tears caused by the pain of this truth. He had promised to protect him. But he was the worst person in the boy's life to do such a thing.

He could tell that Harry didn't want to believe it and the boy had begun to shake his head, ever so slowly, face covered in anguish and discontent. He had done it, finally, and all he could feel was how much he wanted to go back to the beginning.

"Don't look at me…don't LOOK at me like that!" Severus yelled at the boy. "Not with _those _EYES!"

The boy was clutching at his chest, gripping at his Gryffindor sweater, looking ready to fall to his knees.

"Get OUT! LEAVE!" he cried and he _was _crying, there were tears choking from his aching eyes. "NOW!"

And so fast did the boy turn around and run to the door and yank it open and then he was gone.

Severus grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on, the liquor glass, and he threw it across the room where it shattered against a bookshelf sending shards and ice everywhere. He slammed a fist down upon the table with such force and then flipped the heavy thing over, the bottle of whisky breaking when it met stone.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't see because of the tears, and his body quaked with a hurricane of emotions. Why did he do it?

He had no such energy left and he fell upon the chair beside him, bowed down, and wept into his hands.

* * *

He was running as if hell itself was at his heels. He couldn't make out his surroundings but the cold air whipped at his face and his shoes pounded against the ground. He was always running. His thoughts were flipping over in his mind and his breath was coming in desperate gasps. It was as if the memories he had were rewinding, playing back with such speed, all that he had been through these past months, all of his feelings, his fears, his dreams, his desires, the happiness and embarrassment and doubt, everything and he was in a daze, a fevered trance and those fish were still swimming in that bowl and Sirius had come out from that Veil.

There was light around him now and he didn't know it but he was in the crowd of students making their way back to their dorms from the Halloween Feast. All the colors around him were swirling, all the voices hitting his ears like ringing bells, the scents of their bodies, their presence was sickening to him and he bumped into someone, a girl who called out his name but he was running up stairs, down a corridor.

He threw open the door to the girl's lavatory that was undoubtedly empty and raced into a stall, turned around and locked the door behind him. He was hyperventilating, his face wet with tears, his body freezing, fingertips pinching the door's lock as if his hands needed to grip at anything, to hold onto anything or he'd surely lose himself.

A great swell of nausea rose up inside of him and he pivoted on his heel, falling to his knees, hands grabbing at the toilet and he vomited up the contents of his dinner until he was dry heaving and coughing, breathless and shaking violently. With a numb hand he flushed it all down.

He thought he could have gotten a hold of himself by now but as the seconds ticked by the tears turned into sobs that wracked his bones and he began to strike out with his fists at the walls of the bathroom stall, anything to get rid of the strangling torture he was in and he hated himself, he hated everything in this moment and when his knuckles were bloody he began to scream for all he was worth, it didn't matter, it wasn't like anyone could hear him.

* * *

A/N:

Gah, such madness..hope there is no confusion..

This will be somewhat long for those who wish to read it:

I hope I have most of my facts straight with Slughorn's memory. And I am sure that without Voldemort knowing the prophecy Harry's parents would have been able to survive.

Now, I really hope no one hates me but I understand if you do, I hated myself for a bit while writing the last few parts.

There are some things I want to say to possibly justify these two chapters:

This kind of relationship should be hard and there should be a lot of pain. Obviously I try to make it as realistic as I can, I hope I have achieved that.

Snape has hit rock bottom because he can hardly comprehend how he is feeling. It's understandable to a man who hasn't felt much in over 15 years. If only Ms. Gardiner was there.

But the storm is over, sort of, and now Harry is a cast away and must deal with everything and try to survive.

Some insight: I have had the last scene in my head since I started this story, it was always going to happen and I know exactly what happens afterward and am looking forward to writing it all. I just hope the readers look forward to it as well. There is a lot to come.

For those of you who are wondering when Harry or if Harry will be able to speak again: Yes, he will speak again but I will not say when.

And I must apologize for the lateness but I wanted to upload both chapters at the same time and it would have been sooner but there's this boring place called college and I am moving in a few months so yeah but winter holiday is coming up and I will have some time to hopefully dish out the next 3 chapters, I am crossing my fingers on this, in less than a month.

To come in the next chapter: Harry's decisions. Royle has another "test" for the Sixth Years. Love Potions. Voldemort.

I really hope everyone liked these chapters, I know some parts might have been rushed (hope I didn't miss anything). Please review if you have the time. Thank you for reading, hope everyone is doing well.

I apologize for any errors I may have missed. Comments, questions, concerns, complaints? Don't hesitate to PM me.

And HAPPY HOLIDAYS :D


	35. Chapter 34: What is Broken

A/N: Hello there everyone. First off I would like to thank everyone for all their wonderful reviews for the last two chapters, they made me smile and secondly, I would like to once again apologize for this chapter's lateness. I was ill over the holidays and also have been busy finding the proper home that I will be moving into in Feb. It really has been too busy for my liking but I do apologize, I feel so bad when the readers have to wait too long.

But this is a new year! And I hope that I will take it in stride and work hard to get more chapters up quickly. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and a beautiful New Years and are doing well. On with the story:

**I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.**

* * *

**Chapter 34: What is Broken **

_You keep tearing me up on the inside._

_Why?_

_Why does it hurt so much to love you? _

_Is love supposed to be painful? This is too much pain; it's unbearable. _

_Why do I love you? How did this happen to me? _

_I'm so confused. This fear is swelling up inside me. It won't stop._

_Why can't I stop loving you? _

_God, this hurts so much…_

_Please. Please. Just stop. _

_I'm being smothered…_

He could hear the heavy rainfall outside; unremitting, slicing through the cold air and drowning the grounds, soaking everything with it. It was like his own tears and they would not stop. He had screamed until he felt suffocated, until his throat was searing with a fiery pain, until his bones felt like they would break from his body's shivering, until his skull felt as if it would crack open any second. And now he sat there in the stall on the icy stoned floor with his back against the door, his knees up against his chest and staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes.

The tears kept surfacing and spilling down his face and his eyes ached terribly. It was as if the agony wouldn't end and his contesting thoughts were in a vicious whirlwind inside his head; he could barely keep up with them.

The words the man had shouted out loud, those words, that truth echoed forever in his soul, made his blood feel like magma in his veins, made his heart sink to unspeakable depths in such darkness. What was he doing? What had he been doing all this time? Where had his life gone? How had he let himself be taken away by such a man? Hypnotized? Ensnared?

Every beat of his heart hurt, thumped so strongly with every passing quake that plagued his body. It was the plain, strict truth:

He had fallen in love with the man who had sold him to Voldemort. And of course he knew that Severus Snape, a Death Eater, couldn't possibly have known who the baby born at the end of the July would be but it didn't matter to Harry in this consuming moment. He didn't know what to feel about it. He knew the man had a dark past but he had not known that such a sinister deed had plagued the man's mind, body, soul, and heart.

All this time. _All this time._

Lightning made the dimly lit lavatory flash with a skeletal brightness. Harry clutched his body tightly and shut his eyes against the tormenting sound of rumbling thunder. The fear felt saturated on his heated skin.

He felt betrayed, felt lied to, almost cheated and it was so difficult to search for any kind of forgiveness in this moment and it was passed an impossibility that he could come to hate the man again because of this.

Above all else he felt such an excruciating, heart-wrenching loneliness. It felt wrapped around his body, trapped inside him and there was nothing he could do to bring him any sort of comfort because the person who always gave him such comfort was who he had just ran away from. It had been cowardly, instinctive and almost cruel but his legs had moved on their own and his brain had been shut off, his heart cocooned in thorns that dripped with poisonous anguish, and maybe even with the man's tears.

It really was complete torture.

So sudden did he hear the lavatory's door creak open gradually. For a reason unbeknownst to him he clamped his hands over his mouth forcefully, his body still shivering frantically, the air that entered his nose felt like ice picks to his throat, the persistent tears felt like they were rushing to get out of his tear ducts, building up so heavily, pouring out and falling down upon different parts of his clothes and now his hands that were frozen and stinging. How ridiculous he must look, like a frightened child, and the thought of his own image just made him want to sob even more.

He closed his eyes tightly and heard the light footsteps upon the tile, heel to toe, and he knew who it was somehow just by the sound of it, the carefulness of it, even timid or considerate, it didn't matter but she was right behind him, the only barrier was the thick painted wood of the stall's door.

"Harry?"

It was a while before Hermione spoke and even then her voice wasn't strong. It was a short call, barely more than a whisper, fear latched on to the end of it. What did her face look like? He didn't want her to see his face, to see him so finished, so broken up and crazed.

"Harry…" she spoke gently. "Please…You can talk to me…"

Harry bit his lip harshly. He felt like he needed to scream again.

"Harry…you hurt yourself…" Hermione's voice shook and somehow it sounded angelic to his ears. "Didn't you? I heard you…Harry, please…come out, won't you?" He heard her hand pull at the lock and the door moved away from his back slightly. "Tell me…what happened…Harry…it's no use to shut yourself away…It's not fair…to me when I'm right here…"

And silence filled up the room again, drilling through his ears painfully and his heart was still thrashing about in his aching chest.

"Harry! I can't let you stay in there like that," Hermione hissed at him. Harry waited and then: "If you don't unlock the door I will!"

And maybe the loneliness was just too consuming. He couldn't remember how fast he had done it, how he managed to stand or stagger, undo the latch with numb fingers and then his nose was filled with her perfume, flowery, something like sugar, something like strawberries, and her warmth burned his limbs so much his heart shattered even more.

He had embraced her, more liked collided with her, his head down to hide his pathetic face. She had let out a small noise and he felt himself fall down to his knees as she had fallen backward, now sitting on the tiled floor. The room was half in shadow, half in an awkward luminescence that harassed Harry's eyes though he could only see darkness now as his eyes were shut, his forehead pressed in to the skinniness of her upper chest, the warmth in the bone and the skin, the soft fabric of her Gryffindor jumper, the way his hands gripped at her robes…it was with desperation and forfeit, surrender, loss…they had come to that standstill and now he was alone on the battlefield with his torn wounds, winded, bruised, bleeding, choking, suffering…

"Harry…" she whispered.

His eyes opened just barely, his glasses had fallen onto her lap and tear drops littered her pleated uniform skirt. Why? Why did he feel so hopeless, so lost, it felt like he was disappearing.

Hermione had placed a hand upon his back, hesitantly then firmly.

"What happened, Harry? Did…did you tell him?"

He could only shake his head, bowing it lower and he cried as he hated to know that he had been about to tell the man such a thing, such a confession, as if opening a jar to free some winged insect, why could he feel this love so strongly? It was so alive in his faulted heart, stretching, scratching, battering the walls, every centimeter of his body, his skin, fighting for freedom, it was destroying him, everything that he had ever been, was this love truly endless? How was he capable of such a thing? He was undeserving of it, clumsy, young, reckless, stupid, how could he take care of a love like this?

"Harry…calm down…please…" Hermione said quietly.

"What…what happened?"

His breath caught within him as he heard the accompanied voice hit his hears. It was Ron who sounded out of breath. And to know that Ron was seeing him like this, worse off than he'd ever been, made him feel so shamed and embarrassed even if he hadn't a care in the world for what others would think of him if they knew now, if that had been a lie or a wishful thought, he didn't want to know but now all that he could think was that Ron couldn't know, not right now, not in this hideous moment.

So quickly did he hear the boy kneel beside Hermione and the boy's scent of cinnamon and pumpkin and a fresh soap mixed with Hermione's. A stronger hand came upon his shoulder. He felt cornered, small, utterly useless and fragile.

"I'm…trying to get him to tell me…" Hermione managed to say unsteadily.

"Harry…mate," Ron said and it was strange to hear the boy's voice sound empathetic. "He's bleeding…" Those words were for Hermione. The hand moved from his shoulder to his arm, grabbing, pulling slightly. "Harry…you're hurting her…"

He hadn't realized just how tightly he had been holding onto to Hermione, he could feel it now, his fingertips pressing, digging into skin under fabric. Harry's hands came away at once and he heard the girl let out a breath. Harry tried to calm himself, to even out his breathing. He kept his head bowed, sitting on his knees that hurt, could feel the unbearable heat in his face.

"What happened?" Ron said once more. "You have to tell us Harry…"

When he could finally breathe again, could sort of put coherent thoughts together, he took a quick glance at Hermione's worried face, brown eyes darkened with trepidation and then to Ron. There was color in his face, eyes just as worried, confusion swirling in them.

"Snape…" Harry began to sign, his lips struggling to mouth the word. "He…told me…he…"

"What…that git?" Ron said angrily. "What did he do to you?"

"_Ron_…" Hermione said almost under her breath.

Harry gripped at his robe's sleeves before finding the will to continue:

"He was the Death Eater that overheard the prophecy…He told Voldemort…and Voldemort came looking for me…" He didn't know how to come up with anymore words; he didn't want to keep repeating the truth, the man's confession. Had he really once thought that he could save Severus from it all? What a fool he had been…naïve…

"Harry…" was all Hermione could let out; murmur, and he knew she was trying to hide her shock.

Ron was silent and Harry could feel the grip on his upper arm lessen, Ron hadn't let go.

"I don't…I mean…" the boy began but stopped talking, as if forcing himself to stop and the hold on Harry's arm felt pinched. Of course he didn't understand, not fully.

Harry's eyes met Hermione's and he could see the pain in them, the sympathy, the disappointment. And he felt exhausted, sick, ready to fall into an eternal sleep so he could forget everything in that timeless existence that was sleep, where he could pretend all of this had just been a dream.

They didn't speak anymore after that and Harry's tears had at last ceased and his eyes felt swollen and raw. Hermione had sat before him, silently cleaning the wounds upon his hands and healing them with a few spells and all the while Ron's eyes were on him as if Harry would lose it again any second.

They walked up to Gryffindor Tower just as silently, Hermione and Ron on either side of him, close and all the while Harry's body had suddenly felt empty and his legs felt as if they had turned into heavy logs; it was like he was dragging the dead weight of them.

Hermione had been reluctant to leave Harry's side when they made it to their crowded, noisy common room and without saying anything to Ron she gave Harry a look, as if saying they needed to talk later, and then she had gone up to the girls dorms.

Harry had gone into the boys dorm's restroom alone and he avoided looking at his face as he washed it quickly, hating his shivering hands. Afterward he changed gradually into his sleeping clothes, trying not to let it bother him that Ron was sitting on his bed, watching him.

The lamps were doused early as Harry climbed into his bed after taking off his glasses, holding his breath against the chilled sheets and he wrapped his blankets over him. Ron had left the dorm then and Harry was alone and he noticed that the storm had passed and the rain had finally given in and the heavy, miserable clouds had been taken by the night's wind revealing the light of the moon that was a bright sheen through the window by his bed.

He felt stained with such bitter feelings as he lay there in the calm. He was trapped in a spiral of devastated loneliness, felt so powerless and his crushing despair reminded him of those dreams where he would descend into the crepuscular pit of the ocean forever and everything disturbed him to no end. He could never have anticipated such a sheer jagged blow and he had never known his heart could feel so demolished, so caved in with sorrow and confliction.

Months ago he would have desired for such a man to meet some sort of cruel fate, months ago he would have been furious at such a kept truth, months ago he would have decided he would hate, loathe such a man to the end of his days, with every fiber of _his_ being…but months ago he was not in love with this very same man and how cruel could truth become, how better off lies seemed to have been, would he have preferred the lies? Begged for them instead of this?

Slowly Harry's hands moved to undo the necklace's clasp behind his neck and he held it between his fingers, his eyes drawn to the iridescent glass; it was small but it was delicately beautiful and he loved the weight of it around his neck, the touch of it upon his bare skin, when it would move about slightly with every step he took or glide across his skin or tap on it like a knock upon his soul. It was just a thing, an inanimate object but the memories it held, circling in that half bead of glass, swimmingly colorful, and set in the metal like it was born there rather than crafted…it just made him feel more attached to this love, anchored, something complete, unyielding, constant, immutable, always. It was what he had been searching for without knowing it, all this time, and this is where he had found it.

The moonlight through the iridescent half-globe splashed a tiny swirl of a rainbow on his cheek, an aglow of a well designed effect. It trembled there because of his nerves, shaking fingertips that he had grown used to. He pushed the necklace under his pillow and closed his eyes. What should he do? Why had Severus done such a thing? Was it worth it to try to keep his trust in the man? He didn't know.

The terror of it, the hazardous qualm, the foreboding feelings and goliath of pain kept smothering his senses, his bravery, his heart, even his recklessness but hadn't this whole thing been reckless? Wasn't loving Severus Snape the most reckless thing he had ever done?

In soft, quiet minutes the agony in his body was quelled and sleep crept over his limbs, his nerves, his brain and he took shelter in the dark realm of a dreamless, barren land.

* * *

All he could remember was how hot the fire was, how it burned with such a deliberant, skilled and hungry speed. All he could hear was the volume of the screams and how still he stood amongst it all. They were screams of children, men, and women all so oblivious, so unsuspecting of the cruel nature that came from monsters like himself; from power seeking demons like his master.

He could smell the smoke as if it were trapped inside of his mask, could smell the blood, however weak. And all he could think while his face was as calm as a stone in the middle of a desert, was how mindless this all was, how insane and remarkably wrong, it was sickening and horrific, it was evil and it was what his hands had helped to create; a snowstorm of violence, of murder; hands that he had once thought were capable of gentle things, of much greater, kinder things, not destruction, not death. It was too late; there was no escape.

The tattooed brand on his left forearm was singed there forever, there had never been any kind of innocence that he was allowed to keep, earned, never deserved. The fire was so hot, the ashes rained down, his hands would always carry the blood he had spilt, the cloudless night sky seemed so far away and yet all he wanted to do was rise above the massacre around him before he was eaten by the bitterness, the hate and spite, before all that he had ever been before this would be erased completely. But it was too late. The fire burned the houses into embers, jets of green light flew in all directions, the screams died down and he heard malicious laughter that seemed to vibrate a feeling of rushing needles through his spine…

Severus awoke with a sharp intake of breath. He knew he was lying atop his bed, shirtless and freezing, his hair still damp from the shower he had probably an hour or two ago. It was late into the night or quite early in the morning, he wasn't sure. Now the nightmare, no, the old memory, echoed in his mind as he was awake now.

He had slept for a whole day, could not eat that Friday evening, could not even read to guide his nerves to settle into some sort of peace, then he had fallen asleep for the better half of the next day, had eaten a simple meal of his own making then, had showered, had tried to grade essays but could hardly stare at the inked penmanship of his students and resolved to burrow his senses into sleep once again. Because he had been well ahead of exhausted and sleep kept him from thinking although he found it difficult not to dream, not to dream of Harry.

They were heartless dreams where he would find the boy in his bed, bright eyes gazing into his own, asking to be touched, wanting warmth, wanting company and his love. Other dreams would turn into nightmares where he would find the boy injured and bleeding and crying or others where the boy's hands, so small to his own, would reach out to strangle him, legs kicking, striking him, eyes filled with hate, disgust; he was trapped inside these dreams but he had no desire for a dose of Dreamless Sleep, he needed to live with the consequences of his actions.

That horrid Thursday night he had been aware of moving around like a zombie after he had sobbed for a long while to clean up the mess he had made and with trembling hands he had made himself some hot tea. He did not go to Dumbledore and ignored the overcoming longing to see the boy, to drop to his knees and plead for forgiveness.

Because he did not want a life without the boy.

But it had been wrong to hold such a truth from Harry and he couldn't stand to remember, hated to remember that day, crouched and listening at a door in the Hogshead Inn, listening to Headmaster Dumbledore interview the great-great-granddaughter of a well known Seer, overhearing Sybill Trelawney give the prophecy, so eager to repeat it to the Dark Lord…

He was a different man all those years ago or more like a soulless man, a heartless man, when the vile darkness had taken over his body, when the slinking, desperate shadows had washed over him like a wave of grime, of putrid evil and had turned him into a sinner, a murderer, a coward. He had given up his hope long before then, had lost the light of the sun, could no longer see what was beautiful, pure, could no longer grasp the fragrance that had been innocence, or see the reflection of happiness, could no longer remember summers that were filled with childhood laughter, the smell of grass through the breeze, the rustling of leaves above in a high tree, or the warmth of a hand that fit into his own but it had been so delicate, so soft.

He had been captivated by the pitch black horror that came with being a servant to the darkest wizard of their time. How many nights, back then, had he stayed awake wishing that he could turn time backward, that he could escape all of this, find a way to mend such mistakes, to run away, to just run forever from all of it and to not look back?

He had always thought himself intelligent but all he had been was blind, foolish, and fascinated by an obsessed first love. He had thought so highly of himself on the outside however, on the inside he knew he had been fearful, judgmental, cruel, possessive, mean, competitive, prideful, and arrogant. He had not been a good person then, he didn't always choose what was right, he preferred power over justice, protection over kindness, ignorance over acceptance…

And he knew James Potter had been so full of arrogance, drowned by his ego, pampered, praised, spoiled, a showoff, but he had never been weak, never backed down, was always heroic, reckless, stunted by his pride, hindered by peer pressure, driven by admiration, hotheaded, overconfident, but all the while he had always known that all James Potter desired was to impress the one he loved, who he had been smitten by, who he always had to be brave around, like the bold Gryffindor lion he represented.

What had stung the most, or rather almost killed him to realize, was that James Potter had most of the qualities he lacked and couldn't learn because he had been rendered sightless by hatred, his only defense in the game to win a heart, a heart they both had fought for. Potter had been the expert at terrorizing, at being a fulsome idiot, at getting under anyone's skin no matter what; he had never been invisible, could never be a wallflower, had to always be golden and in the center of it all, could hardly ever be ignored. Severus had known this and a part of him even though all of him had hated James Potter, wanted to know what it felt like to be noticed; somewhere deep inside his mind, perhaps what fastened his infatuated love, was the tiny desire to be a hero, to that one person…

But he was without courage, without bravery, without kindness, and no matter how vile James Potter had been, how sickeningly arrogant, how cruel, he knew that all Potter had been trying to do was get rid of the object that stood in the way of his affection and the boastful Gryffindor had done everything for that, even if it meant tormenting a person's life for a good collection of years, even if it meant turning a soul bitter, hurting someone, dangling them up in the air by the ankle for everyone to see…and it hadn't been right, it hadn't been noble or courageous, it had been despicable, disgusting, immature, wrong, but when a lion is provoked he attacks, whether out of fear or pride, and whichever it had been for James Potter, he did not care.

He was rid of that weight, that petty grudge, it was the past, it didn't matter, it wouldn't kill him anymore and he would never allow it to again, he was changed, he had grown, he had learned of real tortures and agony, of true disgrace and utter misery.

It had taken him 36 years to finally do what was right, to find what was right, to search for forgiveness, to desire a certain gentle company, to fall in a love he wouldn't mistreat or ruin, a selfless love, one where he could devote every second of his life to; and there would be no hesitation, no apathy or narcissism, it was a love he both wanted and needed, it was the utopia of love, it was more than love, it was a source of life, like the electricity in a thousand thunderstorms, hidden in a flower that has not bloomed, it was the grace of an angel, the beauty of the brightest day that summer could offer.

There was no growing tired, there was nothing better, no such thing as infidelity, no wanting secrets, no horrible lies, no excuses or misgivings; it was endless patience, an instant sacrifice of the entirety of his existence, it was irreplaceable, irrevocable, infinite, indestructible, it was true, blatant, honest, protected by passion and kindness.

This love was timeless.

It broke his heart to feel this way.

It had crossed his mind too many times before of how he had fallen for the boy and why and too many times before the answers had been mixed like stained glass. He wasn't blind to the simple facts that Harry was 16, a boy just becoming a man, the son of the late James Potter, that months ago he had still hated Harry…so why? Why love? Why not just a camaraderie? A mentor? An old acquaintance and teacher 20 years from now? Why love? Real love. Valid. Easy. Why was it all he needed? Why had he wrapped up his life like a ribbon around Harry's body? Like vines? Or roses or thorns?

It was because Harry had been the one to notice him, to really _see _him, to have the same feelings of attraction when he had never thought anyone could feel that way about him, could recognize and return his feelings and how he wanted to be the one, to stand out amongst all the others who grappled for the boy's heart. It was mad, crazy, but perhaps he was finished with being so proper about things, so refined with things such as this, such as love, he wanted the madness, the passion, the drive and silliness and jealousy and dominance, to intimidate, overtake, the happiness, the impulse, the breath of life in Harry's body…Why not? It wasn't normal, not morally anyway, but it was a constant normality to his heart, to feel like this, day after day, it made no sense, wasn't rational, and what would be its structure, its walls? He didn't care and some nights he hated himself for it. Some nights he felt like a monster, some sickened man with dark pleasures.

And why did he not want Harry to regret it all? Why did he not want his love for Harry to just be an awful burden upon the boy's shoulders and nothing more? Did Harry love him? Could Harry be feeling all these things as well?

He felt like such a fool, a jester, or like a woman full of sorrow and longing and waiting, with no strength to overcome heartache.

But he wouldn't care for judgment or persecution, not ridicule or beliefs, what was right, routine, ceremony, classic or cliché. If this sickness was love, so be it, if this love was immoral, so be it, evil, so be it, a sin, so be it, repulsive, so be it, unrequited, so be it, returned…how happy it would make him…how selfish…

He had given the boy time, whether Harry realized the reason or not, whether he wanted it or not, to find himself, to find his heart, to live with his confession, and what made him feel sick was that it wasn't the only confession, there was more and how afraid he was to admit it, it was horrible what he was doing to the boy, pulling him back and forth, and he wasn't even sure Harry would come back after knowing what he had told him, wasn't even sure he would get a chance to tell the boy his last confession.

The weather was getting colder and his mind was full of the boy, wondering what had he done these past two days, wondering if Harry hated him for being so cowardly, knowing he would have to keep avoiding the boy no matter what he felt, no matter how much his heart was begging to be near to Harry, to force the boy to be in his presence, to be underneath his own body, sharing warmth, to be inside that body.

Perhaps he had gone mad because he did not know what to do, and still he was fighting against his greed, thinking of what sort of life they would be able to have, how he would survive this war, how much he wanted a simple life with the one he loved, how much that plain fact did not make him special, not unique, but rather like every other wandering soul on this earth.

* * *

"He doesn't love me…" shivering hands put together those words.

"Harry…don't say that…" Her voice was soft, saddened.

"Why would he do this to me then? Push me away? Ignore me for a whole week?" Harry signed as his face was full of anguish and his body ached with tiredness.

"Maybe…he was just afraid to tell you…after you'd gotten so…close…" Hermione said gently, her brown eyes looking pained.

"But why a break? Why does he want me to try to be with someone else…some girl that I don't even care for…?" Harry signed quickly, his lips moving fast.

They were in the Room of Requirement again. It was Sunday, November 3rd. Harry hadn't felt like talking the past two days, had rather confined himself to his dorm room to draw and sleep. He hadn't eaten much, had only gone to dinner because Ron threatened to jinx him if he didn't, had felt so very lethargic and empty, realizing depression was sinking in fast again, he hadn't even gone to the Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff match that Saturday morning, he just couldn't force his body to move and at random times in the day he felt like crying or breaking something…

"Well…you need to try to look at him from his point of view, Harry…a relationship like yours…can be very challenging and Professor Snape is a grown man…" Hermione began.

"Then why start all of this to begin-" Harry signed but Hermione spoke up, her voice rising just a bit:

"_Harry_, don't think he isn't seriously in this with you as much as you are, please, that isn't something a man like him would do…He started to have feelings for you, that must have terrified him, Harry," her eyes hardened, her voice was strong and solemn, "It must have taken him a long time to understand it…and he said he wants to be with you, he _wants _it to work between the two of you…but honestly, Harry, he's only doing this because he cares so much for you, you must realize that…"

"I don't…" Harry started to sign.

"I know it's difficult to understand…and to know a thing like that, that he's been keeping from you, it must hurt him just as much as it hurts you," Hermione continued steadily. "He's just giving you a chance, he wants to give you it because he cares, he doesn't want you to make a mistake that could give you a life you may not want, that's all, he's giving you space…"

"But I don't want space," Harry signed forcibly. "I don't want time, I know what I feel, I know what I want…but he doesn't believe me, I can't take that…that he doesn't think I feel the same way…it makes me feel so horrible, like he thinks I'm lying to him…"

"Yes but don't you think he might be feeling just as insecure as you? Just as unsure and afraid? This is a complicated thing, Harry, and I'm sure he doesn't know how you will deal with really knowing who he is…" Hermione's voice had grown softer. "Now, I'm not saying it was right for him to wait so long to…tell you that, it was selfish however I can understand it…I don't think he wants to give you up, but you are young, he is fully aware of that, I think he just believes that you deserve better, that's all it really is Harry…"

"No…" Harry signed and he felt exhausted. "What it sounds like to me…is he isn't willing to fight for me…to have me…"

"How could he though? Keeping such a thing like this from you? He can't have a heart of stone, Harry, he has just as much feelings as you do, it sounds like he just didn't want to hurt you, it's simple to see how much he wants to be with you if you realize that…" she said quietly.

Harry stayed still where he sat on the large red cushion opposite from Hermione. He stared at her dark brown ankle high boots; the clasps were golden and bronze. He was hugging his legs, fingers gripping at his jeans. He didn't know what to say to her as his eyes followed up her body, lingering on the light pink polish that was on her nails, the soft appeal of her cashmere white cardigan and the little ruffle pattern on the collar of her pink rose colored blouse.

"But you're saying things like this…" she said with such mildness in almost a whisper, "does that mean you forgive him? You're ok…knowing it?"

Harry shut his eyes tightly, feeling frustrated, conflicted and wretched.

"I don't know…I want to…" Harry signed and his hands were nervous. "But all I really want is to just talk to him about it…but it's as if I get scared each time I think to go try to see him…as if my body or my heart doesn't know if it wants to see him…and then I still feel lonely…it's so messed up and confusing, it's maddening!" Harry gripped his hands into fists and clenched his jaw tightly, his black trainers sliding across the grated metal floor a bit with the jerk of movement.

"I'm such an idiot…" Harry signed and then rubbed his hands through his hair as he pressed his forehead into his knees, bowing his head.

"Harry…" Hermione said lightly.

"I just ran…and I was crying like a child," Harry signed as he lifted his head up quickly. "It's all I could do! I was a coward! It was…so stupid…"

"How else could someone handle that…?" Hermione said.

"You didn't see his _face_," Harry signed, his face slightly resentful and his body was trembling with small waves of antagonizing vibrations. "He looked so…hurt…more than that, just completely in agony, he looked broken…and all I did was _run_…I left him like that…" He felt his eyes sting, felt that ugly sinking feeling in his stomach once more.

"What could you have done after hearing that?" Hermione said, sounding defeated.

"But I love him…beyond anything," he signed and he felt breathless. "I know it's mental, I know it's wrong, but…I can't _feel_ that way with anyone else…and I've tried…it's impossible…and I just left him there…he was crying…I'm the worst person…" He felt a great amount of helplessness grip at his body. When would this pain leave him alone?

"Harry, don't," Hermione said. "I don't think he expected you to stay…He did tell you to leave…"

"Because of _my_ face…" Harry signed despondently. "I just made it worse for him…and then when I think that a part of me is angry with him…"

"Well of course you feel angry," Hermione said and she sat up on her knees, placing her hands down on her lap. "You feel frustrated and you don't know what to do…"

"What should I do?" Harry signed.

"The only thing you can do is wait…" Hermione started.

"Wait?" Harry signed hastily.

"What I mean is, let yourself have some time and let him have some time to deal with everything, you can try to talk to him but if he isn't ready don't force your way in," she said. "If you do it might make the both of you feel provoked…You're not ready to confront him just yet, Harry…Your emotions are in a turmoil…You need room to breathe…"

Harry fell short of ways to reply so he kept his hands laced together around his legs.

"I'm sorry this happened…but if you do love each other…you'll find a way to be together…" Hermione said very lightly. "I don't think Snape is one to give up so easily…It must have taken him…" she paused and Harry watched her eyes narrow slightly "…_everything_ to tell you…"

A shiver skated across the back of his neck and he felt tapped out of any kind of vivacity, his heart feeling scraped with ice. His ears were still filled with Severus's words; they ricocheted back and forth in his memory; shouting whispers, the flickering of the fire to his left, his body standing, shivering and motionless, his chest drowning in an emotion he had been foreign to or rather had never felt on such a paramount level.

It was pitiful, how he felt.

"I'm sorry I'm not much help…" Hermione said with her eyes saddening, her shoulders slumping.

Harry shook his head softly.

"If I couldn't talk to someone about this I feel like I would have done something mental…" Harry signed.

Hermione lowered her head, brushing her bangs to the left; a movement she did, Harry had noticed, when she felt nervous. Her eyes looked around the room with its blue hue and its many mirrors and Harry stared down at his trainers.

"Things have changed a lot, haven't they?" Hermione said. She had blinked as she turned her head to face him; her eyes looking lighter, almost in some kind of distress.

Harry nodded as his eyes averted to the floor again.

"Never thought I'd fall in love like this…" Harry signed and he couldn't make his eyes that were weighted with penitence meet hers even though he tried. "Never with…him…I couldn't control it…But when I accepted it…I was surprised to know how much I…wanted it…Is that horrible of me?"

She gave him a tiny smile when their eyes met.

"A lot of people might think so…but at least you're not the kind of person to throw around love like it's nothing," Hermione said with kindness and a wistful sweetness.

Harry couldn't smile but his eyes brightened behind his glasses. There was a silence that grew between them and he felt himself settle within it, grateful that she was here and wondering what would have become of him if she was not.

"Are you going to lunch?" she asked after a moment.

Harry shook his head no and simultaneously they both grabbed up their coats and scarves. Harry stood before her and he helped Hermione up and then put on his gray and black fleece hooded jacket over his dark navy blue long sleeved shirt that had small black metal buttons up the neckline. He slung his gray cotton scarf around his neck and as he watched Hermione put on her black button up coat he thought about telling her of what Ron had said, of placing some reassurance in her hands, but something told him it was wrong to do it, something told him it wasn't his place.

These past couple of days it felt like he couldn't catch his breath or hold on tightly to anything as if his own hands belonged to another. Harry had walked Hermione to the Great Hall and then went off by himself, trying not to let the warm and loud cheeriness of the lunch hour in the large hall latch at him in any way. He walked without looking up, through the entrance hall and out onto the grounds. His hands were deep in his jacket pockets, his right feeling the envelope of the letter to Sirius. He was going to bury it; it was time to hold some sort of service for his godfather.

The rains had stopped, leaving behind such calm, bitingly cold days with bitter winds during the night. The nature around Harry seemed so still, almost dying and the outside air felt frozen to his reddening cheeks.

It felt like such a long walk, every breath he let out creating ghostly white mist before his eyes, every step felt a bit harder to take. And some part of him wished that he hadn't decided to do this alone no matter how odd it was, some part of him had wanted to go running down to the dungeons, finding solace in their shadows, and search for those black eyes while every other part of him was pulling him away from it, forcing him to try to realize exactly what the words the man had said meant.

He knew what they meant no matter how he contested against understanding them, as if trying to manipulate some sort of wall to block them out, trying to find some way to go back to the innocent feelings he had felt on the shores of that beach, trying desperately to not let that ocean dry up, to keep letting it look so endless in his memory.

Harry looked up at the sky and there were tresses of clouds splayed against the autumn blue. Even though this sky looked so infinite like that ocean it felt so heavy on his body, crushing, inescapable like these blighting feelings. They lingered, elephant sized, oppressive on his bones.

He trusted Severus. Though he had not known what his trust in a man like Severus would do to him and of course it was painful to trust the man. And his trust had led him to this. Severus, who had opened himself enough with those words, that truth; it had been brave of him, a scary braveness that Harry did not wish to witness again.

And Harry was still confused. Did Dumbledore know? Had Severus told the man? If so, how did Severus win the trust of the old wizard? He didn't know and wondered if he should try to ask Dumbledore about it. Had Severus felt guilty at what he had done? Had it been his last evil deed before turning over to the light? Did he regret becoming a Death Eater? Harry didn't feel like thinking about the man's sanity or how dark his soul had been when he had been so willing to sacrifice the life of an infant. It was a battle of attrition inside his mind. He didn't think the man evil even though he had done evil things.

Because he had seen and felt the kindness from the man, how gentle, caring, protecting, the man could be, how he was capable of such change, how he had let the fierce hatred between them vanish like it had meant nothing to him…and Harry would not believe that Severus was capable of doing the same with his feelings. He wanted that undeviating devotion to be stuck in those richly obsidian eyes, to stay there for him; at times it felt like it was all he had…

The walk had been long and cold. He had made his way down the sloping hills of the grounds, past the Whomping Willow, Hagrid's Hut in his peripherals, and he was reminded of that night when he had chased after that big black dog that had fought a werewolf under the full moon. He tried not to slip on the slanted rocks that jutted out of the grassy earth as he moved downhill, farther away from what was a safe area, knowing he shouldn't be going off like this on his own but he didn't care much.

He began to pass by many tall pine trees and further away they were more grouped together as he walked. It was freezing in the shade of the trees and he had to be wary of large, thick roots as he walked deeper into the forest, remembering where the clearing was where the trickle of the Black Lake pooled in. The trees grew thicker, the air stung his throat, and all was silent besides the sound of his breathing and his footsteps, a snapping of a twig, a small bird rushing to take flight above the trees.

Harry had his arms out for balance as he headed down the last slope before he reached the spot where his godfather had laid, his soul being sucked out from his body. Memories echoed through him. He could still see the shadows upon the ground, cast by an army of dementors that had circled around them both, how fear had shut down his body, how dark it had been, how helpless he had felt. He still remembered the almost blinding light of his stag Patronus as it had galloped across the frozen water. It had felt so overwhelming; a happiness short lived as he had been so eager to live with Sirius.

But it was just a small piece of memory now and he did not wish to reminisce over it further. He had never been to a funeral but he had seen what they looked like, could imagine how quiet people could become surrounding a casket, knowing their loved one was inside, a foot away but never, ever being able to feel the warmth in their skin, or see a smile being born, knowing the life had faded from them, that nothing would animate their limbs, the energy dispersed into the heavens, the soul gone, flesh ready to decay…It was the kind of sadness that everyone feared, the unknown, death…

Harry's heart had quickened somewhat as he stood there. He felt angry, so angry. He had hoped for so many things in his future and a lot of it had been to be with Sirius, his family, the one person that had been so close to his mother and father, who had been in their presence almost for forever, had a part of them living inside his soul. He had loved Sirius; the unconditional love a child knows when they are born and placed in their mother's arms.

Harry knelt down to his knees and took the letter out from his pocket and held it before him. How could he honor his godfather? How could he be as strong? As loyal? As brave?

The dirt ground beneath him made him feel nauseous to look at, made him feel dizzy as he placed the letter beside him. How deep should he go? How deeply did these memories of Sirius go inside him? How deep was the aching hole in his heart? It seemed unnatural to have loved someone he barely knew with so much of his entire self.

His body trembled and something inside him seemed to grow, painful and breathtaking. He bent forward, his jaw clenching, his eyes burning as if flames were being lit behind them, and he broke the surface of the frigid soil with his bare hands.

The memories started to flow right then, like a dam being broken; Sirius's strong bark of laughter, the tiny stars of light in those aged, caring, lively eyes, rough hands upon his own, a strong pat to his back, a knowing wink of promise, a clumsy affection, a childish attitude, selfish hope, a boisterous will…

Harry's hands stung as he dug the growing hole into the earth, pushing aside the piles of dirt, his breath becoming labored, gritting his teeth…

Sirius calling his name, the sound of an old creaking floor, the screeching of a dead woman behind a curtained portrait, a dusty, damp smell, the darkness of tapestries, the touch of fine, worn furniture, his godfather's enjoyable, charming presence at a dinner table, an instant smile caused by a look of gratification, constricting, needed embraces, drowning admiration and curiosity, blind hope, such unbearable, blind hope…

He had ripped his scarf away from his neck in frustration and the growing heat it was creating, had unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it aside. He was breathing hard, taking in the smell of the icy cold soil, ignoring the sting in his fingers and nails, not caring for the dirt that was building under them, his face was growing sweaty and he dug deeper, one hand after the next, shredding it all away, the dark of the earth looking almost bottomless. The hush around him was filling up with the sounds of him digging, his struggled breaths…

Sirius's face scrunched up in agony, letting out a gasped, throated, choking sound as he was being tortured, the fear that wouldn't leave him, the desperation, the mindless thinking, the act of a whim, running, wanting escape, have to save him, need to save him, have to, have to, need to, Sirius, Sirius please don't be dead, don't die, _don't die…_

_ Please don't die…Please don't die for me…_

The quickest flash, evanescent; dead eyes, his body falling, disappearing, down, down, down, the clinging need to follow, a simple instinct, automatic, repeated and then unbelievable hurt, misery, wanting to rip apart his body, to scratch against his own skeleton, needing escape…

_You didn't deserve to die…Don't think that you killed them…Please, don't think that way…_

He was gasping for air, parts of his sweaty face smeared with dirt, tears gushing out of his eyes as he kept having to swallow down the wracking sobs that tried to break free, his shoulders ached and shook, his ribcage felt too big, his body was surrounded with the frigid air, it had grown darker in the shadows of the trees. He had dug a large and deep hole, a wide circle in the pact earth.

His muddy hand picked up the letter and he let it fall into the hole. He began to push the dirt into the hole, filling it up and cringing at the sound of the soil hitting the paper; it seemed so loud to his ears. His hands were so cold they felt numb and yet the bones in them throbbed. He blinked away more tears as he filled the hole with the freshly dug earth, it felt almost soft to his skin.

His breathing was ragged when he finally filled up the man-made hole and he patted the dirt hard. Harry's chest rose and fell quickly and his body felt shivery again. He was hunched over on his hands and knees, burning tears once again spilling down, almost charging from his eyes despite his attempts to gather his self control. This felt much too hard and within this horrible weakness he wished he wasn't alone. He straightened himself as he wiped away his tears with his sleeves.

Harry found a stone close to the water, smooth and ashen colored and he placed it upon the buried "grave". His heart shuddered as he felt a fast shiver go down his back. He shut his eyes tightly; his knees hurt from being in the same place for so long; he sat upon his legs and placed his dirtied hands atop his thighs. It was strange to have a moment of silence since he was always silent but the forest's sounds only served to disturb the peace he was trying to collect. He didn't know why he did it but he placed his hands over his ears tightly to block it out.

And he fell into a sudden silence and could hardly hear his own breathing. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to never hear, to have the world around you muted completely. Harry stayed like this for long seconds, trying to calm himself and the quiet helped him. He could feel his heart thumping away inside of him. He pictured Sirius's face and for a very still moment it was almost as if he could feel the man next to him, the empty space filled just like the hole before him.

Harry opened his eyes, taking his hands away and placing them atop his knees. He did not know how long he stayed there as it grew darker still. When he grew too cold he put his coat back on and his scarf and when he was so frozen that his shivering became painful he got to his feet, his legs buzzing and half asleep. He didn't know how he felt really besides even more miserable. He stared at the stone and he had tried to speak, to say his godfather's name but nothing came…

_Please don't think that you killed them…and I won't think that I killed you…_

He had buried his godfather with that letter and that fact alone made his stomach turn like knots tightening all over within it, ripping away, it made him feel so detached, made his heart want to close itself inside a steel tomb so it could never feel such a catastrophic loss again.

Harry made his way back to the castle slowly, aware of the dirt upon him, mud caked into the knees of his jeans. As he walked he realized just how much he had remembered his godfather during his service and realized, with a small sense of amazement that a part of him, however minuscule, wanted to feel some kind of happiness because of them.

* * *

It had been an exasperating Monday morning and he wished he could have some control over his dreams. He had dreamt of Severus, of the two of them together in the pale light of a fire, the man on top of him and he had felt the weight, the lovely heat of their naked bodies, Severus's voice resonating through his ears, his senses, his skin, his blood. The man had been touching him all over, heavily, wonderfully and there was a pang in his heart, a shy fear and a bead of disappointment but a willingness, a longing, knowing that whatever this man had done, whatever sort of sin, it did not erase the overpowering love that had bloomed at the bottom of that well in his heart, breaking through misery, hatred, guilt, sorrow and grief. His heart had felt timid and he could never stop the feeling that he desperately never wanted this man to be alone, to suffer alone…

And Harry had woken up hard and with his mind and body full of that same horrid affliction. He felt hopeless as he took a freezing shower and grumpily got ready in his uniform. At breakfast he barely ate his cereal and toast. He had caught Ron staring at Hermione who sat across from him and Lavender, who was next to Ron, gave the boy a disapproving look. Hermione and Ron had been shocked at his appearance when he had returned to the Gryffindor common room yesterday evening and so had others who had caught a glimpse of him but he had not told them what he had done, preferring to just get cleaned up and sulk in bed…

What made the morning even worse was that Severus was seated at the Staff table eating his breakfast with that refinement about him like always and Harry honestly wanted to shout at the man or throw something at him. He did not feel those eyes on him however. He did not want to let his vision wander over to those black pools no matter how much he felt the attraction.

The morning went on in a daze and Harry could not even begin to recall what they had learned in Charms for he hadn't bothered to take notes and had stared out the window. He hid away from everyone at lunch, preferring to stay seated in the courtyard alone watching the capacious white clouds float by in the sea of sapphire while fallen leaves scooted across the pavement.

He wanted to shake off the growing depression that felt like cinderblocks hanging from his shoulders, he really did, but it felt like it had spread like poison through his system, his very cells. He hated how much of a struggle this all was, how only weeks ago he had felt happy, had felt like he was making progress, actually getting somewhere and that his relationship with Severus had been moving along at a natural pace despite his curiosity. And now, just like all the times before, it seemed in his life that he was only allowed mere moments of true, pure happiness when he wished for months of it, years even but did he deserve it? He had been acting too cowardly or not bold enough.

And Severus…How had he felt? How much had he truly wanted Harry? How had he lived these past years carrying the burdens he did? Had he felt guilty throughout them? Had they felt long and wretched? Or did they fly by without any purpose, without meaning? How alone had Severus felt? How alone had he been? Was there someone like Harry before? A rootless soul just as naïve, just as wishful; had they tried to stay by the man's side, had they brought a smile on such a composed, distinguished face before he ever did?

Why was this making him so sad? Why was this crushing his already broken heart? Why couldn't he have just kept hating Severus Snape, could have gone on through his life never noticing just how rich, how piercing those black eyes were, how much that voice stuck with silk and velvet, how everything the man ever was and could be was so fascinating to his senses? It was lunacy, encompassing, unreasonable and yet why did he just want to know more about Severus Snape, to know everything, all the pieces of the puzzle needing to be sewn together? Or was it less than that? More pathetic than that? Was what he really desired to be needed by the man? That he himself could be such a marvel to those eyes?

The bell chimed, coaxing his awareness back to the present and out of his deep seeded thoughts. He let out a sigh and stood and went off towards the Great Hall to meet up with Hermione. When she saw him her eyes worried and he caught sight of Neville, Seamus, and Ron all leaving the Hall and glancing at him, wearing expressions much similar to hers.

He kept his head down as he fell into stride alongside Hermione and the two of them made their way down to the gloomy, damp smelling dungeons. There was a splintering feeling in Harry's chest as they drew closer and closer to the Potions classroom and he sort of lost feeling in his hands and legs. When they reached the classroom his classmates were already filing in.

Harry held his breath as he walked behind Hermione into the room; it felt colder than usual. Harry didn't look up but he could see Severus standing by his desk sorting through stacks of essays. A sudden flare of anger ignited in his body but he kept it down and sat in his seat, letting his bag fall to the floor. Harry glared at the workbench; his heart felt overtaken by too many emotions at once and he didn't want to see those eyes, so calm, so steady despite his own secret, silent torture.

He didn't look at the man all throughout class as they brewed a blood thinning potion. Harry hated the sounds in the room; knives chopping, ladles swirling, droppers dripping, liquid simmering, vials clinking, all bordered by frosty silence that made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He hated how he had to keep his own composure when he felt like throwing things, like screaming, hated how he had to act as if everything was so normal when everything felt as if it were on the brink of destruction, and most of all he hated how Severus was such a good actor.

It felt entirely wrong to be like this, to be so guarded and hidden. What was he to do? Was he supposed to be responsible for this, at fault? What did Severus expect from him, if anything?

And class was over as Hermione turned in samples of their potion and the man's voice spoke briefly, telling them of their homework and Harry wanted to flinch but refrained from doing so. The workbenches were cleared, everyone packed up their things and began to file out of the classroom and before Harry could even think that this could be an opportunity to talk to Severus regardless of Hermione's advice the man had swept from the room, robes catching the air, and he was gone into his office.

He was being ignored and it hurt more than he could bear because Severus had never ignored him, whether it had been from great animosity or growing attraction, the man had never completely ignored Harry.

It was ironic, funny even. Every day he could feel so many desiring eyes upon him and yet he felt utterly invisible.

* * *

"Put your books away, you won't need them today," was Royle's announcement as he walked down the middle aisle and Harry felt a small sense of dread creep across his skin.

A soft murmur of conversation broke over the crowd of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Royle stood before the class, facing them all and grinning. The man wore a gray waistcoat over a white dress shirt and black slacks and a double faced black wool coat instead of his usual trench coat-like robes. Parvarti was staring at him fondly.

"We're going to do something practical today," Royle said, looking at them all as he leaned against his desk. "You can call it another test if you will."

Hermione's hand shot up just as soon as Royle ended his sentence.

"What is it, Granger?" Royle asked, narrowing his eyes at the girl, chewing his gum a bit.

"Sir, you _said _we wouldn't be doing anymore of these…tests…" Hermione said tensely as she lowered her hand.

"I lied," Royle responded candidly.

Hermione's expression tightened as if she were holding back a quick retorted complaint and Harry could feel the awkward apprehensiveness swim about his classmates.

Harry inwardly sighed. He felt tired. He had woken up in the night more times than he could remember because of strange dreams or a sudden jerk of a limb and he had tossed and turned, trying to fall back asleep, trying to clear his mind so he wouldn't dream of anything, especially not Severus though it proved useless and he had needed another icy shower that morning. Even though he felt depressed his body was certainly responsive to such lucid, provocative dreams. Harry was in no mood for a repeat of another escapade like the scavenger hunt had been.

Royle turned swiftly, pulling out his wand and tapped his desk. What appeared there out of thin air was what looked like two flags, the same kind Harry always saw during Quidditch games all though one was red and the other blue, both fastened to four foot long, skinny plastic posts. Royle picked the flags up, turned again, and presented them to the class.

"A simple game of capture the flag," he announced.

Harry heard Seamus's hands clap once together and saw Hermione's head drop and watched Malfoy's eyes, though they remained to look absolutely annoyed, narrow in confusion as did many of his remaining class mates. Harry knew what capture the flag was though he had never played it before and right now the idea of this competition felt like another branch of stress added to the pile…

Royle grinned again and placed the banner-like flags on his desk and went over to the blackboard, tapping it with a flick of his wrist. A chalked out diagram drew itself across the board. It was a plainly illustrated map of a square region marked with two Xs on either end of it and some trees and shrubbery here and there.

"The object of the game is easy," Royle explained. Harry looked around at everyone's faces, most of which just grew with more uneasiness. "It will take place on the grounds, any part of inside the castle is forbidden. You will split into two teams, Team Red and Team Blue. Whether you would like to mingle your Houses is your decision. I will choose your captains once you have gotten together your teams; said captains will decide where your flag is to be placed on the grounds. There will be only two people allowed to guard the flag from each team; the rest of the team will attempt to steal the other team's flag and bring it back to their base which is where their own flag is hidden." Royle used the point of his wand to gesture to the game's instructions. "There are rules and restrictions. I have placed protective enchantments on the flags; the only way you will be able to take each of these flags is by touching them with your own hands; no such spell or charm will work on them." Royle tapped the board again with his wand and three words wrote themselves out in white chalk, under the diagram:

_Protego _

_Stupefy_

_Expelliarmus _

"These are the only spells you are allowed in your arsenal to use against your opposing team," Royle said, his gray eyes scanning the room. "I understand that capture the flag is a game of strategy, a game of war, but I don't want anyone to be seriously hurt today, is that understood?"

Harry watched as everyone waited for a short second before nodding and he saw Malfoy roll his eyes.

"I am being quite truthful with you when I say this: those who do not participate in this game will receive a mark of Troll for the month _and _be awarded a weekend's worth of detention," Professor Royle said and to Harry he sounded a bit joyful to announce the penalty as everyone else's faces were filling with a sort of angered suffering. "The winners will receive a prize. Now, you have five minutes to decide your teams, please split up evenly."

Harry was about to stand and head over to Hermione but Malfoy raised his hand.

"Yes?" Royle said.

"What's the point of it?" Malfoy said, sitting up straight in his chair. Pansy Parkinson looked at him worriedly.

"The point?" Royle said, placing his hands in his coat pockets.

"Yeah, I mean you can threaten us with detention and bad marks all you like…but nothing really dangerous, nothing like real pain," the blond Slytherin said and his eyes darkened.

Harry lowered his eyes to stare at his textbook.

Royle smirked.

"But I can hurt you, if I wanted," the man spoke with a level of graveness, a way Harry hadn't heard him speak before. Malfoy's shoulders retreated downwards a bit but their eyes were still locked together. The autumn sunlight that poured in through the large windows behind Royle made the man's eyes gleam. "Surely I'd be punished, prosecuted, but it is not these certain consequences that stop most of us from hurting each other…but rather the desire to do what is considered right, what is good…" Royle took slow strides before standing in front of the desk that Malfoy and Pansy were seated at. "However…in war, such morals are squandered and weakened…They do not last long when all you care about is survival. You must hurt the enemy, you must kill the enemy; such decisions are engraved in soldiers' minds…and then there are some who will try to hold on to their sanity by gripping tight to old morals, to the human condition…" Royle took a step away from the desk and looked around at everyone. "In war, on the battlefield, when a fellow soldier is captured what is the right thing to do? Do you risk your life and the lives of other soldiers to save them? Or do you leave them for dead? When does survival become more important than an innocent life? What sort of person do you become if you sacrifice someone's life for your own? Whether it was your fault they were captured or not?" There was silence and everyone's eyes were on Royle and Harry's heart felt tethered by barbed wire… "Is it your obligation to save them, your fellow soldier, or is it just choice? On the battlefield, in war, your decisions, your choices, your morals…are fleeting. Now this game, I am fully aware, is just a sport, a very artificial example of what I've told you…and I do hope that your futures are not shadowed by war…but this class is meant to prepare you for your survival against the Dark Arts, to protect what you decide needs protecting…"

Harry watched as Malfoy looked away from Royle and the boy looked to be trying hard to keep his annoyed expression intact. There were a few faces, including Ron and Hermione's, in which held a slant of admiration toward their professor.

"Now, with this game we can also just try to have some fun," Royle said with a slight smile. "Good, old fashioned competition so choose your teams, hurry up."

In minutes, and it wasn't the least bit surprising, the 6th Year Gryffindors and Slytherins stood on opposite sides of the classroom waiting.

"Ok, Potter, you will be Blue Team's captain," Professor Royle said as he grabbed up the flags and walked over to Harry, handing him the blue one. "And Malfoy will be Red Team's captain." Royle walked over to the blond boy and handed him the red flag. "Slytherin will be first to go outside, choose your base for your flag, and then Gryffindor will go and once you are ready you will wait for my signal to begin the first round. I will be watching you all, under concealment mind you, to make sure you're playing fairly. Now go."

After the group of Slytherins had gone, Royle had the 6th Year Gryffindors wait for moments before they were sent out into the chilled November air. They all stood before the large oak wooden doors of the castle's entrance. Harry held the flag before him and looked around but did not see any sign of Slytherin.

"Ok, who wants to be the first two to guard the flag?" Hermione said to them all strictly with her arms crossed.

Harry raised his hand lazily. He was still annoyed no matter how serious Royle had sounded in the classroom; he just didn't have the energy to care for a "silly little game" at the moment.

"I'll do it," Ron suddenly said as he raised his hand quickly.

Hermione gave him an odd glance, her waved hair tickling against her face as a cold wind passed by them all and she was squinting against the bright late morning sun.

"Right…Where do you two want to put the flag then?" she asked.

Before Harry could answer Ron volunteered again:

"By the Whomping Willow, it's on a slope so it's difficult to get down," the ginger haired boy said and Harry gave him a somewhat surprised glance.

"Alright, let's go," Hermione said and they were off in the direction of the Whomping Willow.

Harry stuck the flag's pole into the grass and his eyes scanned the far off pitched hills and trees. He wondered briefly if the rest of the school Staff knew what they were up to. The grounds were quiet, not a soul in sight; there wasn't any smoke coming from Hagrid's hut either.

And suddenly a high pitched whistle was heard all around them and it made Harry flinch.

"I guess we start," Neville said as he looked unsure of himself.

"Come on, let's get those snakes' flag," Seamus said with a big grin and he took out his wand.

"Remember, use only the spells we're allowed," Hermione said to the group and then she looked to Harry. "Be careful."

"You be careful. All we have to do is stand here and wait," Harry signed.

Hermione gave him a nod and then they were off. Harry heard Seamus some paces away saying they should split up…

After ten minutes of standing next to Ron who had chosen to sit by the flag Harry was beginning to regret having decided to guard the Blue Team's flag. He was used to being the one to spring into action and form a plan to win and now he was growing impatient at not being able to do anything. Another ten minutes past and the winds picked up, pushing large clouds to block out the sun. Harry's hands were cold and he kept thinking he was hearing people shout but all that was in view now was Hogwarts and the rippling waters of the Black Lake.

"Wonder if they're ok…Rules or not, you know Malfoy's gonna try to play dirty like always…" Ron muttered.

"Yeah…but they're D.A. members, they can handle a bunch of slimy Slytherins…" Harry signed as Ron was looking at him. Harry was still scanning the grounds, looking behind him as well to see if any member of the Red Team was trying to sneak up behind them.

"So…uh…how you been doing?" Ron asked and Harry could barely hear him over the rush of tree leaves.

"I'm alright…" Harry signed.

"Still not going to tell me what happened, huh?" Ron said, his right hand plucking out blades of grass from the dirt.

Harry didn't respond.

"Hermione knows…doesn't she?" Ron said and he looked away from Harry with a staid expression, eyes lowering somewhat.

Harry's hands remained at his sides and he had to admit he hadn't expected Ron to be so attentive, he was Ron after all.

"Why does it always seem like you tell her everything now?" the boy said in a low tone but he didn't sound angry but his words held a gentle accusation.

Harry looked down at Ron and the boy's eyes stared hard at the ground as if not wanting to look at Harry for the answer.

"I know…I haven't been the greatest friend lately…I've been a right arse…but I _am _just as much as a friend to you as Hermione is…" the boy said, his voice growing in volume. "Sure I'm not good at advice…but don't think seeing you so…" Ron paused and then he looked up at Harry. "Don't think it doesn't bother me any less than it does her…"

Harry didn't know how to respond. For some reason he felt like he was being scolded. He felt guilty, he felt ashamed, but how could he tell Ron that he had fallen in love with _Snape_? Had done very intimate things with the man? How could he even begin to explain these feelings to Ron? And maybe it wasn't because he thought Ron wasn't capable of understanding, it was just the thought of Ron finding him disgusting, of Ron hating him, of losing Ron as a best friend, as a brother, it was exactly the reason why he couldn't give Ron the truth.

Ron let out a sigh and Harry looked down at his uniform shoes.

"Someone's running…" Ron suddenly said.

Harry looked up quickly.

"They're being chased…they have the Red Flag," Ron said loudly as he scrambled to his feet.

Harry could see it now in the far horizon that someone from their team had Red Team's flag in tow as the banner whipped through the air behind them and he could also see the group of bodies behind that person as well as the red light of stunning spells and the soft blue of shield charms.

"Neville! It's Neville!" Ron exclaimed as he pointed at the nearing flag bearer.

Harry's heart quickened as the runners grew closer and he could hear the shouts of spells being cast, could see the great mass of a person that Goyle was and the skinny frame of Pansy who was casting stunners at Hermione. Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and Parvarti were all behind Neville, protecting him as he ran with the flag, doing his best to ward off spells with his own shield charms.

"I don't believe it…Neville…" Ron muttered.

Harry was swift to get out his wand from his robe's pocket and in moments Neville was close enough to see more clearly. The boy had a cut on his cheek that was bleeding and dirt smeared on the knees of his uniform trousers and his Gryffindor robe's sleeve seemed to have been torn at the shoulder.

"Has he always been that fast?" Ron asked as he stared at the scene before them.

It was apparent to Harry now because the group was near to them that Neville was indeed much farther than the ones who were chasing after him and Neville's legs seemed to be moving at a very unnaturally speedy pace…

In seconds Neville, who was gasping for breath, had rushed passed Ron and Harry to where Blue Team's flag was and Hermione and the rest had stopped feet away to catch their breath as the Gryffindors cheered. A similar high pitched whistle was sounded once more throughout the playing field and so abruptly did Royle appear at Ron's side, making the boy jump back as Parvarti let out a little gasp.

"Good job Blue Team," Royle said joyfully. "And five points to Gryffindor for Ms. Granger's excellent spell work on Mr. Longbottom."

Harry felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips as he heard this and looked to Hermione whose hair had a leaf in it and her cheeks were red with cold.

"_Sir_, you said we were only allowed to use those three spells on the board," Pansy began to retort.

"_Against _your opposing team," Royle cut her off. "I never said you couldn't use other spells or charms on your own teammates."

Pansy looked cross as Blaise Zabini glared at Royle. Behind them Harry saw Lavender Brown walking over to them with her arms crossed and her hair ribbon askew on her head, a bit of dirt smudged on her face. He wondered what had happened and what Neville had done to get the flag.

Harry could see the modest triumph that was in Neville's face. Royle took the Red Team's flag from the boy and walked over to Pansy and handed it to her.

"Now, you will choose new bases to plant your flags and two new people to guard them," Royle announced. "You will wait for my signal to begin. Now off you get."

The Gryffindors began to walk and Harry had taken up their flag from the ground and hurried to fall into stride next to Hermione whose expression was very determined.

"Neville and Lavender will guard the flag, we'll have it at the courtyard," Hermione explained when the Slytherins were out of ear shot. "If the flag is stolen send up red sparks so we'll know if Red Team has it."

"What happened?" Ron asked.

Hermione kept her eyes on Harry as she answered:

"Malfoy and Crabbe were guarding, they set up their flag by the Greenhouses to corner themselves, we just ambushed them from the front which was all we could do…"

Harry and Ron simultaneously looked at each other as they continued their hurried pace. Harry could easily tell that the same thought was running through the boy's mind; Hermione really could be excellent at taking charge of any situation, even a game of sport which she never participated in.

"I got Malfoy with a stunner and disarmed him," Seamus said energetically. "Nott knocked me forward from behind though, luckily Dean was there to stun him and then he got Crabbe and then here comes Neville with Bulstrode pulling on his back. Hermione stunned her and Neville got the flag."

"Brilliant," Ron said. "Well done, Neville."

Neville's ears went red and Harry's chest filled with something like pride or anticipation.

* * *

It had been a good half an hour before Harry found himself crouching behind a tree, hiding in the darkness of its shade, shivering from the cold. He could see Red Team's flag sticking out from the earth and being guarded by Goyle and Zabini. Ron was only a foot behind him and Hermione, Dean and Parvarti had made their way through the trees to be able to come out behind the two Slytherins.

It was very much like Malfoy to choose the flag's base to be in the Forbidden Forest, not so far in where the light of the sun wasn't stamped out and one could hear the whispering of weird creatures and the heavy hooves of centaurs but far enough to land them in detention if caught…

All he and Ron were told to do was wait until the three of them had incapacitated Goyle and Zabini and then were instructed to go for the flag. It was so quiet that he could hear his heart beat and Ron's shallow breathing behind him.

And so suddenly did he hear Parvarti's scream and Ron's grunt before something hot and hard struck him in the back and he was flying forward, hitting the cold earth so hard on his front that the wind was knocked out of him. Harry was fast to respond however as he clutched his wand in his hand and rolled quickly out of the way of the red jet of light that was the disarming spell. Harry scrambled up from the ground, out of breath and looking wildly in front of him to see who had cast the stunning spell and Ron seemed to have vanished.

Panic flowed through his system as he heard spells being cast behind him and wondered who was it that had stayed behind to guard the flag other than Goyle and Zabini. Harry couldn't wait anymore and rushed forward into the shadows of the large trees. He caught his footing as he was about to slip down a slant in the earth and he saw Ron on his back, nose bleeding, who was in the muddy ditch struggling against Malfoy as the boy was on top of them.

Harry didn't think twice before casting _Stupefy _nonverbally at the blond Slytherin and the boy was flung into the air by the force of the spell. Malfoy collided with the ground and Ron quickly got to his feet as Harry rushed to the boy's side, his wand still raised and pointed at Malfoy.

Draco got to his feet, specs of dirt in his hair and mud smeared on his trousers and on his hands. He glared at the tip of Harry's wand.

"Harry! Harry!" came Hermione's call from behind them. "Dean's running with the flag!"

Harry saw the boy jet past Malfoy, the red banner streaking by like a crimson blur and in the next moment they were all running after Dean through the forest and out onto the grounds, leaving Malfoy and Ron to find their wands.

It had been Bulstrode who had stunned Parvarti and who had stayed behind with Malfoy and she was now trudging a long at their rear casting vicious stunners at Hermione and Harry which they had to stop with shield charms.

With such speed did the next moment pass, making Harry's furiously hammering heart pound even harder in his chest. Nott was running in the opposite direction ahead of them, their flag in his left hand. Behind him were Seamus, Lavender, and Daphne Greengrass. Seamus was trying to stun Nott as Daphne was trying to stun both him and Lavender.

Harry made a quick decision, breaking away from the line behind Dean as he took off toward Nott. He fired a stunner first, followed by a disarming spell but Nott's shield charm was up and strong. The distance between Nott and Harry was great and in no time Harry found himself chasing after the tall Slytherin from behind. Nott's legs seemed to have been charmed just like Neville's had been and Harry's speed could not keep up with the boy.

He tried desperately to stun the Slytherin but the flag was held behind him in a way that Harry soon realized was aiding Nott in blocking all of his stunning spells. Harry's lungs were on fire and Nott had reached the forest and seconds after Harry followed only to hear the loud call of the whistle fill the area. Harry caught himself on a tree, hunching over, gasping as his body trembled.

He knew it was Red Team who had scored. He tried not to care about the disappointment that sunk into his senses, he tried to tell himself it didn't matter, it was just a stupid, child's game, what did it matter if they lost? Rapid anger spiked over his skin and he pounded the tree with his fist. Yes, it was just a game but what if it had been real? Like the war that was looming ever so closer. That was real, very real. What if it had been Hermione who had gotten taken? Or Ron? What if he had been the one to fail then? Hadn't been strong enough, quick enough to save them? What if his decisions had been the wrong ones? Just like the night his godfather had died…

* * *

They had to play one more round to decide who would win and they only had a half an hour before lunch. Harry would have rather accepted a tie due to his growing frustration but Royle said they needed to have a "sudden death" round. For their final base Harry had been the one to choose the beech tree by the lake. Parvarti and Seamus were chosen to guard their flag.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had split up with Neville, Dean and Lavender to scope out the grounds and it was only ten minutes before the trio had figured out that the Red Team's base was in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass were guarding the red flag. Hermione's quick plan was having Ron come through the second entrance of the pitch while Harry and Hermione went through the main entrance.

It was a straight offensive attack and Ron went for the flag first, to act as the distraction as Millicent and Daphne had their backs turned to them to try to stop the ginger haired Gryffindor. Ron was able to conjure up a withholding shield charm and Harry and Hermione were quick to disarm the Slytherin girls. In seconds Harry had dove for the flag, grabbing it up quick and casting a blazing blue shield as he ran to avoid Daphne's stunning spell for she had recovered her wand easily.

All that was left was to make it back to the beech tree and Harry's resolute spirit was unwavering. He could hear Ron and Hermione's struggle against Bulstrode and Daphne behind him. His lungs felt like they were in a fiery torture but he tore across the large green field of grass, running through the bright spots of the sun and the dark shadows of the clouds above. There were no obstacles in front of him, just the frozen wind rushing through his hair and robes, and the red flag in his hand felt like the a crucial piece of his existence in this moment, in this ridiculous game of cat and mouse…

He heard Hermione fall behind him and his heart thumped hard against his ribcage. He kept running.

There had to be more important things, things he had to do, must do…

His eyes were watery behind his glasses as the wind stung them. His ragged breaths were so deafening to his ears, his legs were begging for rest, his body begging for sleep, for that far off world where dreams existed, where love existed, in a far off place, where judgment couldn't reach, where he wouldn't lose everything, where a demon's wicked eyes could never see…

He briefly saw Ron behind him, hoisting Hermione up to her feet as he cast a stunning spell that struck Daphne square in the chest, could see that Bulstrode had stopped to check if the girl was alright.

They hid behind the slope of the grassy hill, the beech tree in sight as well as the battle that Seamus and Parvarti were losing against the four boys of Slytherin and Pansy; five against two weren't fair odds. Malfoy was nowhere in sight.

"Hermione, you take the flag," Harry signed quickly as he was breathless. "Come around from behind, it'll be easy." He handed the girl the flag and she took it swiftly.

"Go!" Harry signed and Hermione took off, wand and flag in hand as Harry and Ron ran up the hill and joined in the scrimmage.

Harry was quick to disarm Zabini and stun him and Ron had stunned Pansy. Everything before Harry's eyes was growing into a blur as he tried to find Hermione in his peripherals. All he did see was a flash of blond hair before there was an immense blast that sent Harry flying into the lake's waters. Clumps of grass and dirt sprayed everywhere as everyone had fallen to the ground because of the force of whatever sort of explosion it was.

Harry was only in two feet of water as he got to his feet, robes and uniform soaking wet, water streaming down from his hair and he looked at the well rounded hole that had been the result of the _Reducto_ spell. Harry's eyes took in the sight of Malfoy standing with Blue Team's flag in his right hand as well as his wand that was pointed at Hermione. Malfoy held Hermione against him as he was glaring at Harry. Hermione still had Red Team's flag clutched in both of her hands

All was quiet now besides everyone's haggard breaths and the soft waves of the lake hitting the bank before Harry.

"Let her go, Malfoy!" Ron shouted as he had gotten to his feet, face dirty.

"Stay right there, Weasley," Malfoy snapped. "Or would you like to see what a stunning spell does this close to your mudblood girlfriend's head?" No one moved.

Harry clenched his jaw and hurried through the water and onto the grass, his wand held tightly in his right hand, pointed at Malfoy.

"Not very smart, are you Potter? Just stay put and shut up, you're so good at that these days…"

"Malfoy, that's enough! Stop being an idiot and let her go! It's just a game!" Ron yelled.

"Yeah, let her go, you can't take us all Malfoy!" Seamus retorted.

Anger and desperation flooded Malfoy's features.

"Don't just stand there Blaise, take the flag!" Draco spat and Hermione flinched.

Blaise waited a moment before he walked over to Malfoy but before the boy could reach the two of them Hermione had suddenly jumped up, the top of her head slamming up under Malfoy's jaw and the boy staggered backward just as the she took off running. As Hermione reached the beech tree Ron had fired a quick stunner as Harry hit the boy with the disarming spell. Malfoy flew back onto the ground with a thud and the sharp sound of the whistle filled the air.

Harry and Ron rushed over to Hermione just as the rest of the Gryffindor's cheered at their victory.

"Are you ok?" Ron asked before Harry could.

"Yes…my head just hurts," Hermione said and then she smiled almost sheepishly as she rubbed the top of her head.

Royle appeared out of thin air once more and looked down at the hole in the dirt as everyone's eyes were on him. Professor Royle looked to Malfoy who was standing now, his hand rubbing at where Hermione had struck him and Pansy was at his side, trying to help the boy.

"I aimed it at the ground, not at a person…" Malfoy snapped.

Royle did not comment but rather turned to face Harry, Hermione and Ron. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted:

"Professor Royle!"

Harry looked behind the man to see that Professor McGonagall was heading toward him looking quite cross and walking much faster than Harry had ever seen her walk before. The rest of their class followed behind her.

Royle's smile vanished from his face and took many steps backward until he was at Harry's side.

"Explain to me why your students are outside of your classroom while class is still in session!" McGonagall said fervently, pointing her finger to gesture to the class. "And why the teachers have been hearing shouting all around the school…What are those flags? Why is Mr. Potter soaking wet!? What have you all been doing!?" Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed back and forth between the disheveled Defense students and Professor Royle.

"I...I can explain…" Royle stuttered out. "This…was an important learning exercise…"

"Important learning exercise? Just like your scavenger hunt at the start of term? Which I might add, you did not have permission for _either_…"

Most of the class did very little to stop themselves from laughing and even Harry found it hard to stifle the tickle of amusement in his throat or the smile that took his mouth hostage.

"All of you get back up to the castle! Twenty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor for such deplorable behavior," McGonagall said sharply. "And you, _Professor_, can join me while we take a trip to see the Headmaster."

Royle sighed and began to follow McGonagall but turned briefly to look at Harry and give him a quick wink. Despite his wracking shivers Harry kept the smile on his face as he walked with his fellow 6th Years back to the castle. Harry realized he was impressed by Royle's originality that he could bring to D.A.D.A. and how very grateful that he had revived his favorite subject from the tarnished state that Umbridge had left it in. And he thought, grimly, what was it going to take for everything else that felt so broken to be fixed?

* * *

Royle's game seemed to have been the pinnacle of Harry's bettering mood because the rest of the day it just spiraled or more like crashed right down to the bottom again. He had to deal with McGonagall's long lecture about proper student conduct and her anger because Dumbledore had approved of Royle's teaching that day. He had to deal with Severus being seated at the Staff table at lunch and he almost hated himself for glancing several times at the man whose eyes only scanned the Slytherin table for a second here or there and the man had left so early.

And girls, he had to deal with girls.

He had been asked out twice that day. He had listened to their soft, flirty, sweet voices and was very aware that the sound of it did nothing to him; it did not make his heart lift or heat his skin or make him think of sunsets over an ocean's horizon or late hours in the night lit by a candle; that warm safe comfort, belonging but oh how he tried to make it feel that way to him and it made him feel shattered, insane, angrier beyond anything.

He was angry at Severus, for many mixed up reasons. Because it had hurt to be away from the man for so long, it had hurt to hear that confession, it had hurt to want someone, to need someone in this way; like oxygen, like the blood in his body, a never ending, unquenchable thirst. It was a deranged way to think, to feel, as if his need for the man was what kept his heart beating. It felt like he was sick, a hopeless, woebegone desperation.

Because he had tried, though his expressions were very reserved and still and his face slightly pale, to find any kind of attraction from their eyes, that pretty green in chestnut or a tidal wave of blue, had tried to want to feel their skin, to find meaning in the beautiful palette of their make-up, or curled dark auburn locks or the lightest of brown, pin straight, shiny like silk, even wonderful scents of caramel or in orange citrus…

Or things more intimate like the curves of their hips like a fine hourglass or their breasts behind the thin material of white dress shirts and cotton bras, the nape of their neck tightened by striped Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw ties. But there was nothing, only stabbing embarrassment and weak shame. It just wasn't there, like his body didn't work the right way, no fluttering butterflies, or sweaty palms, or a blank mind.

It was impossible to love them; he couldn't even lie to himself. He felt a sort of fanatical fury itch everywhere upon his skin. The love he had for Severus seemed like the end; irreplaceable, that real forever, the kind that existed in fictional hearts. Did he regret it? Did he want to regret it now? All of it? How could he? He hadn't even told Severus how he felt. Would he ever have it in him? Express it so easily like the girls who said they liked him? He couldn't stop feeling so scared.

Love. It was a scary thing indeed.

He felt defeated.

At dinner Harry stared at his mashed potatoes without interest as he pushed around the pieces of glazed honey ham against his vegetables. He could hear the volumes of chatter all around the Great Hall; heightened talk of the upcoming ball and letters from home and the amount of homework and the squeaky sounds of young 1st Years off to his right as they discussed new spells with such energy. Harry could have hated them, wanted to so he could just have somewhere to direct his floundering emotions.

Right across from him Ron, Seamus, Neville, Dean, and Ginny were talking about the game and apparently Ginny was hoping to be able to play it as well if Royle assigned it to the 5th Years. Parts of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were also talking about it and Harry found out that the 6th Year Hufflepuffs had won against the 6th Year Ravenclaws in their capture the flag game. Harry's eyes lingered over Lavender's arm as it was hooked around Ron's left and the word "leash" came to Harry's mind. He lazily took a look over at Hermione who sat with the group of 7th Years, next to McLaggen. Harry felt like scowling. He didn't trust the way Cormac's eyes took in the girl, like the way Harry usually eyed treacle tarts…

"Hi Harry."

Harry was startled at the sudden call to his right and his eyes widened when he realized who he had been unknowingly sitting next to for the past half hour; it was Romilda Vane. Her curly black hair was tied to the side and splayed over her left shoulder. Her cheeks held a rosy blush and her lips were coated with a light pink gloss. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she blinked quickly, smiling cheerfully.

She smelt nice, something floral; fresh roses and marigolds and something sweet like honey. Instead of trying not to inch away from her he stayed seated where he was and examined her. She was close, her knee touching his thigh. She was attractive looking, that was a simple find for Harry. She had big round eyes and high cheek bones. Her demeanor held a captivating boldness. If she hadn't insulted Luna and Neville that day on the train and if Harry hadn't known she was trying to spike his food with love potions he would have thought her kind.

And he saw himself, mirrored in her doe eyes that were filled with her own attraction toward him but yet again Harry's heart was sedated and the heat only existed in his cheeks because he had been embarrassed for looking at her the way he was trying to. Harry glanced at his food nervously; he had only eaten a little…

"How are you?" Romilda asked gently and her voice was filled with her personality.

"Fine…" Harry signed, looking down at her knee that touched his; the skin was covered by her black stockings.

"You've been looking a bit sad lately," Romilda said. She had turned to pull something out of her small black leather book bag. "My mother sent me some chocolates," Romilda had placed a small daintily wrapped rectangle shaped box down next to Harry's plate. The wrapping was a coffee brown with silver swirled designs. "You like chocolate right? The ones she sent me are really good, especially this brand. I'm sure they'll cheer you up." She leaned in a bit closer with her blushed cheeks and her eyes were so focused on his; he wanted to shiver. "Some have whisky in them." It was a whisper, obvious flirtation, but all it did was make Harry feel uncomfortable.

Harry obviously knew what sort of ploy this was as he looked at the box of chocolates. A part of him wanted to come out and say it, tell Romilda Vane to stop trying to drug him but what good would it do? She was a Gryffindor, brave and willing to get what she wanted.

"Thanks," Harry signed halfheartedly.

"It's my pleasure," Romilda said quite fluffily and Harry thought she acted too old for her age. She gave him a grin, her left hand just barely brushing against his knee before she turned around and started to talk to one of her friends.

Harry pushed his dinner plate away feeling like a caught fly in a spider's web. He noticed Hermione's warning glare right off and Harry gave her a shrug. Then he automatically took a glimpse at the Staff table and almost flinched. He had caught Severus's eyes, just transiently, before the man stood and left the high table. Harry returned to glaring at his potatoes.

* * *

It had been an hour and he felt absolutely restless and temperamental, almost enraged. He was sitting by himself on the sofa before the crackling fire in the common room, arms holding his sides, somewhat tightly as if to squeeze his emotions shut. That one glance of inky black, that one connection of reflected light in those deep pools, like the moon hovering in the midnight hour, it was enough to feel like his body was being dragged through scorching hot coils.

His knee bobbed up and down. The laughing and chatting in the jovial essence around him did little to soothe Harry but he didn't want to be alone. The metal of the necklace shook slightly against his chest. His skin felt hot but his insides felt cold. Why couldn't he rid himself of all this pain? Why did he have to suffer from such an implausible thing? From love of all things? He needed to see him, to just hear his voice; the man's voice always seemed to make up for the lack of his own, made him feel wanted, desired, made him think of the possibility of peace…

Harry's eyes watched the dancing flames, his fingertips moving to brush against the cuff of his uniform shirt that stuck out of the sleeve of his cardigan. How tired he felt from today, of so many days where it was like he was stuck in a corner, a tiny place where he could never get out, he felt mental, he felt like this was what mental people felt like, detached, neither here nor there, not anywhere but there was nowhere to run, there was no _relief_.

Why did Severus do this to him? Why did the hate have to disappear? Why them? The both of them, swimming in a halo, forgetting who they were, where they came from, a design of doubt and trust. He felt like he needed to tie down hope, to border up his walls and never think of daydreams that threatened to filter through, miles away, through echoes of old astringent abhorrence, swollen disgust, where the dawn comes in and one thinks of brighter days, a home of content, heavy albums of keepsake memories, tokens of family, of cherished, lovely things…

It felt psychotic.

In the background Harry could hear Seamus and Neville talk about the ball and girls, who they wanted to take, he heard Katie talking to Dean and a few 7th Year boys about Gryffindor's upcoming match at the end of the month, and he heard Lavender's chipper voice as she voiced every single opinion on the dress she was going to wear and what Ron should wear as well...He slumped further down upon the couch, his eyes felt so heavy, his head ached terribly. What he wouldn't do to lay next to the man, to sleep against the warmth of Severus's body, laying his head upon his chest, listening to the repeating rhythm of that heart…

* * *

"Harry…what's happened?" Ms. Gardiner asked gently but the worry was very noticeable in her voice.

Harry did not want to look at her, he didn't want to be here at all, sitting across from her though she had been late for their session today, had just arrived smelling of fresh air and cherry blossoms, her hair looking soft and done up with a clip. Her coat was red with dark brown buttons and almost as long as her dress as her bare legs were showing almost to her knees. She wasn't wearing robes today, Harry could see the hem of the white, light material of the dress flutter as she sat down, placing her white handbag on the floor. Her deeply green eyes were on him, uncertain, and her hand brushed through her bangs, moving them aside.

Harry sat there, his hands together on his lap, staring down at her white high heels. He was in a bad state. He hadn't slept much that night even though he felt exhausted but his body was restless and his racing thoughts kept retreating back to Severus, and his dreams looked as if they were framed in a sepia tone, liquid-like, blurred and fast so that he would wake up panting and realized how much his very skin longed for the man's caressing. It made him feel almost worthless as he would lay there, trying not to touch himself, the minutes ticking on into the late night, leaving his mind to simmer in a migraine.

Here he was before her now, the safety box to put in all his problems, worries, fears, and he couldn't tell her not one thing of it though he wished he could, begged for it even. Wasn't she perfect for him? Couldn't she help him with anything? What if it made her hate him? Disgusted with him? Could he stand to see her look at him that way? No, she was his lifeline to recovery, to his voice…

"Harry, you look worn-out," Ms. Gardiner said quietly for Harry hadn't told her anything even though many seconds had gone by. "Have you not been sleeping? Have you been eating well?"

She had taken her clipboard out after a moment as Harry still continued to look at anything but her face and she had begun writing with a silver pen.

"How has your week been, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner asked without looking up from her notes.

Harry's fingers tugged at the end of his sleeve of his uniform jumper, pinching it. He let his eyes wander around Dumbledore's office, going from one silver instrument to a gold one, a trinket here or there, casting glances at the moving portraits of former Headmasters.

"Why are you acting so withdrawn? Something bad happened, I know it," Ms. Gardiner said softly.

Harry lifted his eyes tentatively to stare at her.

"I just don't feel like talking right now…" he signed and he wondered if he could speak his tone of voice would have sounded rude.

"Would you like me to leave?" Ms. Gardiner said with a small smile.

Harry lowered his eyes. He was disappointed with himself. He just didn't know how she could help him if he couldn't tell her what was really wrong, if he couldn't tell her the whole truth.

He shook his head no.

"Then talk to me, ask me something, anything," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry slid his left foot back, somewhat under the chair. He felt anxious, his hands were trembling lightly.

"Why were you late?" Harry signed.

"Oh, I had to take Emily home, she stayed over last night at my flat," she said kindly.

"How has she been?" Harry signed and honestly he did want to know.

"She's been fine, she asks about you to see how your recovery is going, she hopes to see you again," Ms. Gardiner said.

"That's good…Tell her I'd like to see her again too…" Harry signed.

"I will," Ms. Gardiner gave him a smile.

"Have you had…a lot of group sessions to manage?" he signed.

"Yes, a few. Do you remember David?" Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry's eyes met hers. He did remember the strong looking man who had lost his young daughter in a traffic accident. He nodded slowly.

"He's doing much better, he's letting himself smile again," Ms. Gardiner said and then looked down at her notes and wrote something down, crossing her legs.

She was beautiful, charming, intelligent, modest, anyone could fall in love with her and perhaps there was love for her in his wounded heart, an admiring love, a thankful love, because she cared for him, worried for him, but she seemed too young to be a mother and yet he thought that maybe, and it was a far away, hazed and lingering maybe, just maybe, this was what his mother had been like but he could never really know…

"I wrote the letter to my godfather…I buried it," Harry signed when she had looked up at him.

"It must have been difficult," was all she said, her eyes turning to a mixture of compassion and a slow sorrow.

"It was…I felt angry…but more afraid than anything," Harry signed.

"How did you feel after you had done it?" Ms. Gardiner asked tenderly.

"I don't know…I felt sick…I felt horrible…I didn't feel lighter or anything like that," Harry signed and he had paused as he rememebered. His expression was pained and somewhat stressed. "It feels like…he's still here…like his spirit…even though I know he can't be…I just always thought he'd be here to help me through everything…"

"I know, Harry…" she said. "But you're not alone; you have plenty of people with you to support you, you mean a lot to their lives, I'm sure you realize that and you need to remind yourself of that…They'd all willingly protect you just like your godfather…"

"But I don't want them too," Harry signed forcibly. "I don't want anyone else to die for me…"

"Yes Harry, it's only natural for you to feel that way…but it didn't stop your godfather from going to save you that night," Ms. Gardiner said quietly and her eyes were firm on Harry's own that had shadows under them from lack of sleep. "It didn't stop you from risking your life the same way he did, you would have died for him, I know that…No matter how much he wouldn't want you to put your life in any kind of danger for him, you would have done so because you loved him, that's what love does to people, Harry…that's why you went to save him, you would have done anything…"

Harry didn't know what to feel or what to say.

"I feel tired…I miss my voice…I miss talking to people…and hearing myself…" Harry signed, averting his eyes to his uniform shoes. He felt selfish for telling her that.

"Has Professor Snape been helping you, talking to you about things?" Ms. Gardiner asked suddenly.

Harry clenched his jaw and stopped the sudden rush of words he wanted to say to her, stopped the colossal amount of anger and frustration that boiled up inside him, and the great need to just spill it all out to her, to expose himself, the side of himself that he had been hiding from everyone for months. His expression must have given him away because Ms. Gardiner followed with:

"Something happened between the two of you again. What was it? You can tell me Harry, please."

And he couldn't pull the answer away from her, couldn't lie or hide his feelings; it was like trying to stop a stampede of wild horses or swift, rushing rapids. So he told her. He told her what Severus had done with the prophecy he had heard, and Harry knew Ms. Gardiner understood what the prophecy was already and the flooding anguish Severus's confession had caused him. As he had told her he had watched her eyes, had caught the shock even though she hid it so well, but she kept her composure, kept the calm concentration.

"He doesn't want to see me…" Harry signed after he had finished. "And I don't know what to do…I…I like our…friendship…"

Ms. Gardiner was silent.

"What should I do? How should I feel?" Harry signed and he was growing worried, perhaps she hadn't understood as well as he thought because she hadn't said anything yet.

"Do you understand how he feels?" Ms. Gardiner said in almost a whisper.

"He feels…" Harry started to sign but was unsure of the words. It was hard to lie and mix the truth in at the same time. "He's probably ashamed…of what he did…and thinks I won't understand…"

She placed her hands atop her knees.

"Don't you see the similarity of it? Between the two of you?" Ms. Gardiner said.

"What do you mean?" Harry signed.

"He feels that guilt, the same kind of guilt you feel Harry," she said. "Do you think it an accident, what he did? A mistake? He regrets it, surely, if he took the time to get close to you…He didn't want you to know…but he felt obligated to tell you because of your…friendship. He must have felt horrible for keeping it from you…"

Harry waited as he let her words sink it. He knew Ms. Gardiner knew of Severus's past as a Death Eater, most likely knew the kind of position he held within the Order and to Voldemort, she had seen his memories and Dumbledore had told her things…

"He thinks he's the reason my mum and dad were murdered…" Harry signed with difficulty. "But it's like what happened to my godfather…I wasn't the only one who made mistakes…I wasn't the one who pushed him through the Veil…"

Ms. Gardiner nodded once, softly.

"Pettigrew was the one who sold my parents to Voldemort…they would have stayed hidden if not for him…" Harry signed as if his hands were being controlled by someone else. He felt cold. "But they didn't know…they trusted the wrong person…and Sirius blamed himself for a long time…in Azkaban…" Harry's chest felt tight.

"Do you think he's forgiven himself after all these years?" Harry signed.

"I can't say…" Ms. Gardiner said, her expression staid. "But what about you Harry? Do you forgive him for it? He was willing to let you die, a child…"

Harry's heartbeat sped slightly. How could he justify that? How could he justify Severus's past?

"It's over…" Harry signed numbly. "He isn't the man he used to be…He's changed, he doesn't want a life like that…"

"So you can forgive him?" she asked.

Harry was burning his gaze onto the palms of his hands as his shoulders trembled. He waited.

"I just don't want him to suffer because of it anymore…We've helped each other…and settled our differences…" Harry signed as he felt the burning wetness in his eyes as colorful diamonds of rainbow light crept up to his vision because of them. "I won't go back to what we were before…I can't...I won't hate him again…I won't…"

"Harry…"

_Of course I forgive him…I love him…_

"He won't talk to me…He's ignoring me…" Harry signed and he felt pathetic because he couldn't hide away his tears. "Isn't that thoughtless of him? Cruel? Mean?" Harry lifted his head, his cheeks were flushed, his back hurt from all the tossing and turning in his bed and the unrelenting stress. Ms. Gardiner was just listening, her eyes very still and bright. "He's a git, isn't he? A coward, a rotten git…" Harry wiped away his tears with agitation. "He makes everything worse…He doesn't care…he's ruthless…Why does a person like him do this to me? It doesn't make sense…Why am I…friends with him?" His hands wiped clumsily at his building tears, his shoulders hitched, his heart shook.

Ms. Gardiner had leaned forward and grabbed his wrists gently, pulling his hands away from his face and Harry felt like such a mess, a silly child who didn't know any other way to express himself other than to cry.

"Harry, it's alright," she said. "You've done nothing wrong, you just care for him, you found solace in him, he was there and so were you and this is the result…"

Harry pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, finding comfort in the nature green of her eyes.

"Now all you have to do is ask yourself, is he the kind of person you want to _keep_ in your life?" she asked in a hushed way.

Harry wondered just how well she understood his feelings and if she could really comprehend their sort of "friendship" since they were years apart. Was it strange to her?

Harry nodded.

"Then you need to tell him that, tell him how…important he is to you," Ms. Gardiner said. "I am sure, Harry, that you are important to him too, I am certain that he would never be able to hate you again either…" Her eyes were weighted with a kind tenderness to them, empathy and encouragement. And with all of that, he could understand why a man would love her forever…

"I am sorry to intrude."

It was Professor Dumbledore who had come into the room; it was his office after all. Harry looked to his right quickly as Ms. Gardiner let his wrists go. He used his sleeve to wipe at his eyes, hiding his face from the man.

"Don't be, I hadn't realized the time," Ms. Gardiner said as she stood, grabbing up her handbag.

"It's quite alright," Dumbledore said as he stood there with his hands held behind his back. "But if I could I would like to speak to Mr. Potter in privacy?"

"Of course," Ms. Gardiner said and turned to Harry. "I will see you next week Harry, please take care."

Harry nodded but couldn't reply to her. She smiled at him and walked out of the office. Harry watched her go and his eyes fell upon Dumbledore. He felt embarrassed.

"I apologize for disrupting your session," Dumbledore said as he walked over to his tall desk chair, smiling gently at Fawkes who had been sleeping soundly the entire time on his perch. "Would you like some tea Harry? Lemon drop?" He had sat down.

"No thank you, Sir…" Harry signed.

"You look as if you have been losing sleep," the old wizard commented. "If I may guess…this would be because of what Professor Snape has told you recently…"

Harry looked at Dumbledore quickly in surprise and his heart tripped over itself.

"You…you knew?" Harry signed.

"Yes, I knew of the terrible mistake that Professor Snape made," the man said calmly.

"Why? If you knew…why would you let him teach here? Why do you trust him?" he signed and it had been a floating question in his mind that he had grabbed onto out of confusion.

"Harry…can you comprehend the great amount of remorse Professor Snape felt when he realized how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy? He had no possible way of knowing which boy Voldemort would hunt down after he knew of the prophecy, or that the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that he knew, that they were your mother and father…"

Dumbledore's eyes, as weary as they looked, were filled with a certain sorrow and they were locked on Harry's own. Harry's eyes glanced over the man's blackened hand. It looked worse.

"I know that, Sir…" Harry signed.

"Why do you trust Professor Snape Harry?" Dumbledore said.

"He's…a good man…" Harry signed slowly. "I want to trust him…to believe in him…"

The old wizard's eyes softened at Harry's words.

"I should go…I'm late for Charms…" Harry signed.

"Then I do hope you have a good morning, Harry…" Dumbledore said and smiled.

"You too, Sir…" Harry signed and got up from the chair with his school bag and left the Headmaster's office.

Harry felt lightheaded as he walked through the corridors. He hated being almost like a slave to his emotions though it sort of helped to talk with Ms. Gardiner about it. Harry's heart felt emaciated in his chest. How was he going to get Severus to talk to him?

* * *

It had felt like hell. These past collection of days had been absolute hell. He had never thought anything could hurt this much. He could hardly take it. It was deadly. How he managed to go about his normal schedule he hadn't the foggiest. He had thought he had been through harder things in his life, for instance, standing before the Dark Lord and lying to him face to face multiple times and surviving. All in all the past week had felt like a constant agony to his heart and his contesting thoughts that felt like they were bruising the inside of his skull.

Severus couldn't stop from hating himself every time he had to avoid looking at the boy. It was too much to see Harry, obviously struggling with the break between them and he was beginning to regret ever giving the boy a chance to decide. With all honesty, if it could really be up to him, if he could force the decision upon himself, he would never let Harry leave his side, would never let anyone threaten to have the boy.

What did Harry think of him? Was he truly coming to regret everything? If Severus gave the boy a chance to talk to him what would Harry say? To never speak to him again? To forget all the things that happened between them? Would they go back to those cold, bitter tasting days only the hatred this time would be forged, on Severus's part anyway? He could never hate the boy; that was impossible.

Was Harry trying to cope with knowing the truth? Had it frightened love away? It seemed unattainable now that the boy could love him. How could love exist behind that line? With all the ways he had treated Harry? If only he could live without his heart, if only he couldn't feel the carnation of emotions that humans were tormented with, especially love…

It was hopeless. Harry made him want to live forever. There was no fighting it. It was a finite thing.

Severus did not feel like teaching that day, didn't feel like having the boy just feet from him and there wasn't anything he could do but just sit and pay no attention to his own body and how it reacted to the boy's presence. It was instantaneous longing, intolerable and unappeasable.

What was worse, and yes, it had gotten much worse, was the jealousy. The fire in his chest had turned into a blazing storm and he was well aware that he could only blame himself, he had suggested the break, had given Harry time to explore and find himself and this, after only a week, felt like the stupidest thing he had ever done. No matter if it had been the right, selfless thing to do, what had he been thinking? He had thrown the boy to the wolves, to those love sick, pampering girls, some of which were desperate enough to try to slip the boy Love Potions…

Was there no saving him?

He had been lying across his couch in his personal quarters after taking a pain reducing potion for his migraine he had gotten from his first class which consisted of only 1st Years who may as well all have been Neville Longbottom's siblings and it had taken everything to not blow up at them for their incompetence. He did not care if they were only 11 years old…

That was when he had heard the knock on his door. A small shiver ran up his spine but he had to squash the faint hope that it could be the boy. Even if it was Harry he would just turn him away, it had only been a week, not nearly long enough for the boy to deal with himself. Severus got up reluctantly and walked over to his door and opened it. It was not Harry who was at the door but he would have preferred it to have been instead of who actually was at his door. It was Ms. Gardiner.

He wanted to shut the door in her fair face.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," she said with that forsaken smile of hers.

Why was this unbearable woman at his door? He felt a drop of panic.

"Is there something wrong?" Severus asked quickly.

"Nothing really," she answered and promptly let herself in as Severus had to move aside or she would have walked into him.

Severus glared at her as he closed the door. She was in muggle attire as he took notice and that intoxicating perfume wafted after her, making him cringe.

"I did not invite you in," Severus almost hissed at her. "It's impolite to just barge into someone's home…"

"It's impolite to keep a lady waiting," she said as she was looking around the sitting room as if she were actually curious.

"Tell me, what is your business here?" Severus said as he stalked over to her.

"I thought we might have a chat," the woman said sweetly. "Shouldn't you have a fire going? It's dreadfully chilly down here." The woman had taken out her wand and lit the wood in the fireplace with it. Severus narrowed his eyes.

"And what exactly do you wish to _chat_ about?" Severus said.

"Shall I make us some tea first? Where is your kitchen?" she asked as she set her handbag down upon the sofa.

Severus was swift to frown upon it. Anger was boiling within him at the woman's forwardness, she was simply uncouth and annoying him to no end.

"I will get the tea…" Severus refrained from snapping the words at her. Severus stalked off to the kitchen and took out his wand and with a few flicks here and there he had the tea boiling and cups moving about to set themselves on a silver tray. A faint thought of poisoning the woman's tea entered his mind and he waved it away like a fly. When the tea was served he brought the tray to the sitting room in which he found the woman looking through the many shelves of his books.

He scowled and placed the tray down and quickly came to her side, taking the book she had in her hands and shoving it back into its proper place.

"You have quite the small library in here," she said, smiling.

"I made the tea…" Severus said, slightly biting the words out. "If you would like to take a seat so you can fulfill your purpose of your unannounced visit, please do so…"

"What kind of tea?" she said as she had turned on her heel and a bit of her hair had brushed against his face. He shut his eyes and coaxed the rising agitation down as much as he could.

"Green tea," Severus answered strictly.

"Delightful," she said and she had sat down.

Severus eyed her bare legs as she crossed them. He hated the very plain fact that she was sitting on his couch, holding one of his tea cups and drinking _his_ tea. What made him even more furious was that it had been so long since he had Harry for company in the exact same spot the woman sat, it had been so long since he had set down sweet biscuits and their tea and he would watch the boy take careful consideration in the way he held his cup, he would be amused at the boy's compliments on his selection of the tea that night…

Severus made his way to the arm chair and sat down. He was not in the mood for tea but he picked up his cup anyway. He examined how she sipped her tea, her eyes closing, her eyelashes touching delicately upon her skin; her petal colored lipstick did not leave a mark on the white china, and she set her cup down gently and removed her button up red coat to reveal her long sleeve thin white dress. She certainly was a finely dressed type of woman…

"How are you, Professor Snape?" she asked gracefully as her eyes fell upon him.

Severus wanted to wince but abstained from doing so.

"What is it to you Ms—" he began tightly but she cut him off.

"Do call me Sophia, I'm younger than you."

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"I do not see why it matters…" Severus started as he placed his cup down.

"Then shall I call you Severus instead?" the woman said.

Severus glared at her smile. Damn this woman.

"If you must…" Severus said lowly.

"Good," she said with a nod of her head.

"Are you going to inform me of the reason why you are here any time soon? I am a teacher with a punctual schedule I must abide by," Severus tried to keep the irritation out of his voice though it had little effect.

"I'm well aware of that, Severus," she said and Severus clenched his teeth at the sound of his first name coming from her.

"Out with it then," Severus retorted quickly.

"Well, at the present, it seems like you could be in need of my services," the woman said lightly.

"I beg your pardon?" Severus snapped. What in heaven's name was this woman going on about? Could his day get any shoddier?

"I am a therapist after all," she said, folding her hands together on her lap.

"Really? I had no idea," Severus said, laying the sarcasm on thickly.

"So, with my expertise, I've come to help," she said without skipping a beat.

Severus desired nothing more than to throw the woman out, literally and he bit his tongue. It took everything he had not to shout at her:

"And _what_ exactly has given you the impression that I am in need of your _help_?"

Her dark green eyes grew stronger. The fire lit them up so vibrantly.

"Harry told me what happened. He told me of your own guilt—"

Severus stood so swiftly it made him feel lightheaded.

"Get out," Severus seethed.

"I will not," she said simply.

"_Get out_," Severus repeated. Rapid anger was boiling in his chest and his thoughts were jumbled. How dare she? How dare she think his problems were hers? That his and _Harry's_ problems were hers?

"I want to help you," she said, her expression calm and collected, a display he himself was so good at. Her smile had gone.

"I do not need it," Severus said.

"But Harry needs you."

Severus's heart seemed to take a tumble in his chest. His breath was a bit shaky but he willed himself to keep it in control.

"He does not," Severus said almost inaudibly. "I have told him so. My attendance in his life means nothing, it does not give him what he needs, not protection nor…guidance…Knowing what you unfortunately know now, how can you think that?"

"But it is true," she said.

"You are a fool then."

"Perhaps, but I also know that Harry will never recover his voice if you are not in his life."

"That it is fictitious thinking, and the boy thinks the same way," Severus said. He tried to look into her eyes, to look beyond them into her mind but was met with an austere shield that he could not break.

"You are pushing him away at a time where he needs you the most," she said. "He is half way there but he cannot move forward, not without you Severus…"

"What about your presence? Do you count yourself so little?" Severus said with venom.

"I am not the answer to Harry's condition," she said carefully. "I am the support he needs, an open ear and endless advice, but that does not mean he tells me everything…"

Severus's eyes narrowed. He felt uneasy. Why would she come here? Why would she ever offer her superfluous counseling to a man like him?

"You are far more important to him…" she said with a softness that quickened his heartbeat. "More so than anyone, so much so that he'd leave his voice lost to have you…"

And Severus's mouth went dry and his hands became nervous. What happened next he could never have foreseen:

"If you do love him," she said with that over-confidence that he despised, "you need to hold on to him."

His breath went weak, the sound of the crackling flames in the hearth seemed much too loud and though he was used to keeping such a composed face, resilient, a perfect lie, the words that she said shook the world around him, brought perspiration to his skin, made him feel like he was being choked. She knew.

"How long?" his voice was almost feeble, and he couldn't believe it sounded fearful.

"Not too long," was her only answer.

"His memories…did you see them?" he tried to keep his voice still.

"No, he kept those very protected," she said quietly and her eyes were set on his own.

And with a fast movement Severus had taken out his wand. The woman looked as if she was trying to hold back another smile.

"Are you really going to try to obliviate me? I'm just as good as an Occlumens as you, Professor, you are quite aware of that I'm sure."

She was right. Though she was only 23 her skill was up to par with his own when it came to the workings of the mind and memories.

"The only thing left is to kill me but that's a mess I'm certain you'd want to evade, Severus," she said.

His legs had gone numb and he used his hand to search for the arm of the chair to guide him to his seat. He had never believed it possible that she would know, that she would know of the things he had done with the boy, of their relationship, of his _secret._ Harry was supposed to be his secret. This _love _was supposed to be a secret. What would happen now?

"I wouldn't worry yourself over it," he heard her say for he had kept his dark eyes on a shadow on the floor.

"No one else will know, well, until it is safe," the woman continued.

"How can you speak like that?"

"It's almost impossible for me to cause any danger to fall upon you and Harry…"

"That is not what I mean," Severus hissed. "How can you speak of such a…forbidden thing as if you are tolerable with it?"

"I see. Insecurities are to be expected with your relationship with Harry," she said.

"Insecurities? Are you mad? What sort of woman are you?" Severus snapped as he looked at her.

"A tolerant woman, I suppose," she said purely.

"Tolerant? The boy is sixteen…I could be his father…Why am I even discussing this with you?" Severus's hand gripped his wand tightly.

"Our world is a different one, Severus," she said softly. "But even in the muggle world such bonds are known. I do not care for the substantiation behind them though I do honor valued love when I see it."

"You are appalling," Severus said, keeping his eyes on the fire. "This relationship is unhealthy and depraved…He is sixteen…No one, not anyone, could see _substantial _reasoning for this kind of _relationship_." His voice was almost a whisper, spiteful.

"But you do not believe that, or you would never have started it to begin with," she said.

"Really? You don't think me sickening enough to do such a thing? Ravenous? Hideous?" he had almost shouted at her. "What if I do not care for his feelings? What if I am just some unwell, perverted freak of a man?" He was glaring knives at her now, his wand had fallen to the floor and his hands gripped the arms of the chair till his knuckles had gone white.

"Then you would be lying to me," she answered gently. "You do not have to put up any shields against me, Professor. I am very understanding, though you may not think so. It is easy to realize how very innocent and truthful this relationship is."

"Then you are the one who is unwell," Severus said, his voice shaky, there was color in his face. Why was she doing this to him? How was she making him react to her in such a way? How had his self-control been obliterated by her so effortlessly? Damn this woman.

"I see it in his eyes, Severus," she said. She had blinked slowly. Her grace was like a swan and it made him weak. He could hardly fathom why. "You are healing him. Do you really want to shame his true feelings? He feels as if you don't trust him enough. He is not a child—"

"I _know_ that," Severus bit out.

"Then have a little more faith, don't underestimate him," she replied and her voice was just above a whisper.

Severus was silent for a moment, his hands held his knees.

"What reason do I have to trust you? You have no measure of respect for me," Severus said in a deeper, quick tone.

"I think I should be the one to say those words," she said. "I do have respect for you, Severus. Your selflessness is admirable."

"You must be deaf and blind," Severus retorted.

"I am neither of those things, thank you," she said. "And when someone compliments you it is common courtesy to be thankful."

Severus glowered at her still.

"I care for Harry, his recovery is very important to me—"

"Do you really? Or is it just that you can't bear to fail at anything in your life? To disappoint anyone?" Severus said nastily.

She said nothing; her eyes only narrowed briefly.

"Well, _Sophia_," Severus began, "You disappoint me every time I see you."

"You have a hostile nature towards everyone, that trait about you does not go unnoticed," she said calmly. "I'm quite used to it actually. You were my teacher, always brooding and scowling, the dungeon environment suits you well."

Severus was about to comment until:

"We could go back and forth all morning but I would like to move on, if you would," she said and _smiled. _"This is about you and Harry. I want to help you, it's that simple, Professor."

"Help me with _what?_" Severus said with disdain, leering at her poise.

"To come to terms with how you feel about him, to understand and accept it," she answered.

"I accept it, fully," Severus said.

"Perhaps I used the wrong word…" Her eyes looked up and then fell back on him. "You think you do not deserve it. And maybe you are somewhat confused as to why you feel this way, why you believe, ignoring judgment, even your own, that it is right, that it can prosper."

Was she really that observant? It was like she had read his mind but that was impossible. She was just extremely superior at her job. Severus hated her even more.

"I can handle it, I am more than capable," Severus struggled with the words.

"I do not think so," she said quietly. "I think you are tired, just like Harry, of dealing with burdens you'd rather give up if you could."

"I do not need it, I do not need pity or the help of a meddling woman like yourself," Severus said tightly. And he was angry because he was beginning to think she was right. He was tired. All his life he had not had anyone to depend upon. Yes, he depended on Harry but he was too afraid to expose himself to Harry, and not in the vulnerable way of intimacy, but to shed his heart to the end, the entirety of his thoughts, wishes, dreams, his memories, the darkness of his soul, he didn't want to torment the boy with it, to taint him…

"It's merely an offer, you don't have to agree to it," she said. The firelight seemed hidden in the locks of her hair. She was beautiful, a captivating beauty that could bring standard men to their knees. And yet all he could think of was could she really bring him to the thing he wanted, needed, most? Could she help him deserve Harry?

"You said you care for him…then how could you want him to be with me? Do you not think he should try to live as normal of a life as he could? A wife? Children?"

"And you think he cannot have that sort of thing with you? Family? A home?" she said kindly. "Aren't you eager for those things?"

Severus blinked quickly, pressing his lips together. His hands had gone numb.

"I am a Death Eater, I have no future…" Severus forced himself to say.

"You changed yourself for him," she said. "That is all the evidence I need to believe you want a future as much as he does…a future he will risk his life for…"

"You do not even know if he loves me in return," Severus said. Why was he doing this? Bearing himself to her? Why couldn't he stop himself? Where was his will? His cruelty? Why had it disappeared in contest with those eloquent eyes?

"I can't speak for him, you are right about that," she said.

Things were silent for a long moment as Severus stared at the shined glass of the coffee table.

"I will only cause him more pain," Severus said silently. "You should hate me, if you do not already."

"There are far worse things to hate a man for," was her response.

"I think you are the one who needs therapy," Severus muttered as he turned away from her stare.

"So, does that mean you accept my offer?" she merely said.

Severus waited, thinking over what had just happened, not sure what to feel but afraid. He did believe she was capable of keeping his secret safe, he did not doubt her abilities. She was just as self-sacrificing as the boy, just as brave, just as noble...

"How do you wish to go about it?" Severus finally said.

"I will come here, after every session with Harry," she said.

"Fine…" Severus said. And in truth, he was grateful for it, he felt lighter, and as much as he hated to admit it, just because she supported the way he felt for the boy, it gave him some relief, it made him want to hope for things he shouldn't. It wasn't wise, it was foolish, but he was used to feeling that way…

"Fine," she said and smiled once more.

"Do you expect payment?" Severus said, looking at her almost stubbornly.

"Not at all, free of charge."

Severus refrained from rolling his eyes. How would he deal with her cheeriness? When Severus knew he could stand he did and so did Ms. Gardiner, taking up her handbag and coat. Feeling a bit disorientated, he walked her to the door. Before she opened it she faced him.

"This does not mean we are anything more than associates," Severus said somewhat defensively; anything to try to get rid of that smile. "I still harbor a great amount of dislike towards you."

"I would expect nothing less from you," Sophia said with a detesting amount of merriment. "Have a good afternoon, Professor."

And she left. He closed the door quickly, almost slamming it and he rested his back and palms against it. The air around him still felt like it held her brandished overconfidence and smelt of her perfume. What had he done now? She knew of his love. He felt fear, such fear, like the child in that dim, neglected house all those years ago…How could she do this to him? Was it a mistake to let her have such a secret? How could he have stopped her? There was no stopping her, not a woman like that. Was he just doomed in the end after all?

He realized he was late for his second class.

"Damn that woman," he had said to himself.

* * *

A/N: I really hope those who are reading liked this chapter. I apologize if some parts were slow paced. I hope people liked the capture the flag game. I would like to know your thoughts on the story so please review, it really gives me confidence which I lacked in this chapter, I am sorry to say but the next chapter has a lot more to it.

How do you feel about Ms. Gardiner helping Snape? I hope everyone looks forward to their sessions together.

I'm sorry if the last few chapters have been a bit depressing, but things will get better.

I apologize for any errors I may have missed. I am working about trying to proofread all the chapters in my spare time.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Complaints? Please don't hesitate to PM me.

I have started college again but I don't think it will hinder my writing, they're easy classes. But I will be moving two weeks from now but I should have my internet up the same day I move if everything goes alright. I hope to get another chapter up before then though.

Also, I did have an idea to put love potions in this chapter somewhere but it didn't work out, it just didn't fit with the story at this time, so sorry about that.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, please review if you have the time, negative or positive, I want to know.


	36. Chapter 35: All At Once

A/N: Hi there, I wanted to thank everyone once again for their lovely reviews for the last chapter.

I am so sorry that it has been exactly a month since I have updated but I had been so busy with moving and there was trouble getting the internet set up in my new place and getting everything settled in and it was a struggle to write this chapter because I caught the flu (after having just been sick weeks before) and it has been horrible, I haven't been able to do much at all but I kept at it with this chapter through thick and thin and I had many doubts over it but I decided to go with it and I know some points might be rushed and I apologize. But I hope you like it and I hope it doesn't disappoint the readers too much since the plot is moving quite slowly.

Here it is:

**I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. **

**Warning: This chapter contains M/M. Don't like it, don't read it. Thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter 35: All At Once **

_"I want to learn," the boy said quite seriously, his gray eyes holding the stare upon the dark green pair before him. _

_ "You're kidding," she said flatly, giving him a short glare._

_ "No, really, I'd like to," he replied quickly. "I saw you teaching Anna, it looks…interesting. Honest, I want to. Can you teach me?" _

_ "You know, you're going to keep getting dirty looks from your Slytherin _friends_ if you keep talking to me," she almost snapped at him. _

_ He smirked and the sunlight that practically blasted through the large window beside them both lit up their bodies as they stood before one another in their school uniforms. He could briefly realize that he liked the way the pure light of the sun latched on to her hair creating streaks of a golden effect and her eyes were filled with the luminescence like a warm spring day. He had tried to keep his heart calm. _

_ "I don't care," he said and smiled. "Come on Sof, teach me."_

_ "Don't call me Sof," she said with a bit of bitterness and her disgruntled expression made him want to laugh. "Why do you want to learn, anyway?"_

_ "I said it looked interesting…" he said with earnest rising in his voice. "Don't you want to teach me? Aren't we friends?" _

_ And her eyes softened but the stiff tenacity in her face did not falter as she still looked bothered by his presence above all else. She looked away from his face and to the window; her complexion was bright and a faint dash of color was born upon her cheeks. _

_ "You can say please…" she said tightly. _

_ "Please then, please teach me…whatever it was you were teaching Anna," he said. _

_ "It's called Sign Language," she said and she had turned to face him, her face determined but trying to hide the embarrassment in her eyes. "And if you want me to teach you Liam you have to take it seriously, I don't like wasting my time."_

_ "Ok, ok," he said, smiling again. _

_ She had lowered her shoulders, as if huffing, and he admired her energy. _

_ "You know, you don't have to act so tough," he said, putting his hands in his pockets. _

_ "I'm not acting tough, this is my natural self, if you don't like it, then that's your problem," she said swiftly. _

_ "But I do like it," he said._

_ And the blush rushed to her cheeks and he knew she had tried to collect herself. He knew, in that glistening sunlight though he was still a young boy, that she could never act as freely as he did, that she felt like she needed to put up a strong front, not out of arrogance, but as if it had become a responsibility to her…_

_ "Why do you want to be my friend anyway?" she almost muttered, averting her eyes to the stoned floor. _

_ "Isn't it better than being enemies?" he answered lightly. _

_ And she had tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and his heart had swelled within his chest and he felt older in that instant and she had said, quite softly with much reserve: _

_ "I guess so…" _

_ And he was in love, forever, and his heart would never stray from hers and his soul would always call for her own, for eternity…_

* * *

She watched the little leaf, a blend of brown, orange, and fading green, flutter down to the grass, joining the small pile of others similar to it. It was so quiet besides the soft sounds of sketching to her left but she could not look at Harry, she had to stay still and keep her head forward, Harry had made that very clear.

Sophia had asked Harry if he wanted to have their session somewhere else that day, to give them a different atmosphere, and although Harry had hesitated for he had been very reticent that morning, he had asked her if they could go sit under the beech tree once more. She had agreed and when they had arrived at the tree she had taken from her handbag a spiraled dark green sketchbook and a small pack of art pencils that she had purchased on a whim the night before when she had gone out for groceries.

Harry had been surprised at the sudden gift but Sophia had insisted that he take it and Harry had been quick to suggest that he attempt to draw her in exchange. She had thought it a wonderful way to relieve some of the stress the boy was under so she had sat under the tree while Harry sat a few feet away, figuring out the pencils and then he had begun to draw.

She hadn't really planned her session with Harry today, she had just wanted to talk with him again; she had felt if she had tried the exercise that day that it would be far too much for Harry to handle considering the emotional state he was currently in. Not only was Harry trying to understand and cope with the loss of his godfather but he was also trying to deal with the fact that he was in love with a man 20 years older than himself.

Yes, she had known, had been aware of Severus and Harry's feelings. It seemed to have happened so naturally in Harry's eyes, in the manner of his body, the way those eyes would look when they were trying to hide such a secret, a daring, dangerous truth. Sophia could comprehend how much Harry had struggled not to tell her the truth. She could sense Harry's fear and insecurity. It was expected to come from such a situation. Sophia didn't know of anyone who would be so willing to expose such a reality. It didn't aid Harry's recovery now that he was under more stress but it had given Sophia hope to know that there was someone that could save Harry, that could help him more than she ever could, that could take care of his soul and guide his heart to where it needed to be.

She had been looking for Harry's outlet, for his cornerstone, and in some ways she hadn't been surprised that it was Severus Snape for she had watched over their relationship, had seen how much the man meant to the boy, it should have been obvious. She wouldn't lie, she had been wary at first, had been scared for Harry but that did not mean she had no faith in the two of them, that she thought it was something so impossible and wrong. No, it was different, that was all but it was very true.

Sophia hadn't been straightforward with Harry in the same way she had been with Severus for one reason and that reason being that she wanted Harry to tell her in his own words, to have the strength and willingness to trust her enough with his feelings, she had just wanted Harry to come to believe in her and she would wait until that moment, she would.

But it was different with Severus because Severus was not Harry and she needed Severus, or rather, Harry needed Severus. Severus had returned the light in Harry's heart, Severus was the one who was healing Harry more so than Sophia ever could and to her, though it would be somewhat repulsive to others, to her it was a brilliant thing. She knew she had to make sure that Severus stayed in Harry's life, that the man would not give up the boy; she knew she had to make the man understand that he did deserve all that Harry was, to make Severus see that Harry was _giving _himself to him. Would it be easy? She could only guess but at least Severus was willing, that was an outcome of her forced visit she hadn't been so confident of but it had been worth her efforts.

Sophia would never lay down the hope she had for Harry's recovery, she would help the boy get his voice back no matter what. So, if all went well enough, it could be possible that Severus's love for the boy would be nurtured and granted, that it could strive, that it would endeavor every possible obstacle, and it would be strong enough to become everlasting…

She had to admit, it was strange to believe in it, to accept it, but it was done, it had been decided as soon as she had seen it in Harry's eyes, crescent in that blue, and then full, a full love so relentless she hadn't known the boy was capable of it. Because Harry had given love a chance again, had faced that fear of loss, had jumped over it and whether it had been intentional or by chance, wanted or just completely startling, it had happened and now Sophia had to adapt to Harry's feelings, she had to work with them and make sure, as if it were her obligation, that they were not trampled upon or worthless, no, she had to save them, she had to make Harry endure and she had to replace the doubt in Severus's heart with faith.

She let her eyes move to her left, keeping her head unmoving, and took in Harry's concentrating expression for only a moment. The bottom of Harry's face was burrowed in his Gryffindor scarf as he drew, the pencil held steady in his right hand, moving about in so many directions. His nose and cheeks were flushed with cold, his hair picking up with the wind, but it did not break his focus which Sophia admired. When Harry looked up again her eyes looked forward quickly. There was a soft smile on her face.

Sophia couldn't help but wonder where she would be without Harry. Would her own confidence, that had already become so bleak until the boy had stepped into her office, have faded out like the deadening fire on a shrinking candlewick? Why was she here? What would all this have meant in the end for her? Was she really so desperate to never fail anyone? Would Harry somehow bring her happiness? It was silly to think this way…

She heard the boy move and she looked over as Harry had stood with the sketchbook and was brushing grass from his uniform robes and then hurrying over to her. He sat beside her quickly and he was smiling.

"Done already?" she said as Harry settled next to her.

Harry nodded and scratched his nose out of embarrassment as she had taken the open book from him. Her smile grew as her eyes fell upon the sketch. It was wonderful. Harry was very good at capturing such detail whether with paint or ink or pencil, there was a liveliness in his drawings and an great likeliness. The shadows made everything look so careful yet vibrant. The leaves had been done with a certain grace, she could admire the determination and above all else she loved how delicate and gentle Harry's sketches were.

"I'm jealous," Sophia said softly.

"Why?" Harry had signed, his eyebrows raised.

"You're better than me already and I've taken classes," she answered lightly. She knew she was just teasing, she knew talent hardly ever needed teaching but it was a relief to watch Harry laugh silently and shake his head quickly to deny her words; it was much better than the way he had looked when she had first saw him that morning, like he had stayed up all night, as if he had had a dreadful past few days…

"Is our collage still on your wall?" Harry signed.

"Of course it is," she said as she still held the sketchpad. "A lot of my patients have complimented on your paintings, they like how much color it has; I think it really cheers them up."

"Really?" Harry signed. "I'm glad that it does…" Harry's eyes looked out onto the lake's waters, his breath creating puffs of white, he was shivering.

"How are your classes? You have about a month left of term, right?" she said.

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on the scenery before them.

"We've been getting more homework than necessary…Transfiguration feels like a foreign language to me right now," Harry signed.

Sophia smiled and let out a short laugh.

"Sixth Year felt like the most difficult to me," she replied. "Seventh felt the most free, though graduation was very sad, everyone was so scrambled to finally decide what they wanted to do with their life."

Silence followed after and Sophia watched as Harry's hands rubbed together and then rest upon his knees, she watched every way that his eyes went about what was in front of him, knowing that such a place, Hogwarts, felt like a second home for almost everyone.

"It is quite cold," Sophia said after a long moment.

It made the boy smile once more and he put away the pencils as she carefully took the drawing out of the sketchbook and placed it in her handbag in-between her clipboard and a thin folder. Harry stood and Sophia handed him the book and she took Harry's free hand as he helped her to her feet.

"It's going to snow early," Sophia said as they were halfway back to the castle. Though the sky was very blue and clear it was freezing out.

Harry nodded. She didn't feel it was safe to ask Harry how he was feeling but she could only hope that soon Severus and Harry would be able to talk to each other instead of the man pushing the boy away. Sophia had walked Harry to Charms and had thanked him for the lovely drawing and had told him to take care. Then she had left but she did not go back to Dumbledore's office, she had headed down to the dungeons, she had another appointment that day.

* * *

His eyes were on her white cashmere scarf that was hung over the sofa with her white coat. He could hear the faint sounds of her pen marking whatever sort of comments upon the sheet of paper attached to her clipboard. The fire in the hearth was crackling away and his eyes moved down her frame. Her hair was waved and over her shoulders. It bothered him that once again she was not wearing robes but instead a white silk blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her black stocking legs were crossed and Severus wondered how women could stand to walk in such high heels as his eyes narrowed at the black pair she was wearing.

"How was he?" he asked, breaking the silence between them because he had been annoyed at just sitting in his armchair waiting for her to speak.

"A bit down this morning, though I did get him to smile," Sophia answered softly and underlined whatever word she had written.

Severus glared at her.

"Are you still working with that…hypnosis exercise?" Severus asked insolently.

"Not at the moment, no," she replied and then looked up at him. "So, Severus, how are you?"

"Outstanding…" Severus said sullenly.

She only smiled at him and asked:

"Has Harry tried to talk to you at all?"

"No…though I haven't really presented him with a chance to…" Severus replied with reluctance.

"And how long do you think you will be able to keep it up?" Sophia said with a blatant tone.

Severus's jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes further.

"I do not think you fully comprehend the decisions I have made regarding…him—"

"Harry," Sophia interjected.

"Regarding _Harry_…" Severus continued tightly, "…it is for his own good…" His voice grew in gravity. "No matter what you assume…it does not alter the fact that he is sixteen years old…He doesn't see other possible futures…I have stood in the way of that…"

"And yet you still initiated such a relationship…" she began.

The tense feeling in his shoulders lessened and he took in a deep breath, blinking slowly. There was a paperweight on his heart. It felt easier to admit the words to someone other than to himself, other than to Harry…

"I was disgustingly selfish..." His eyes were set hard on the skipping flames. "For a while I only half saw what it was doing to Harry…and I was overwhelmed by what it was doing to me...I wanted it, perpetually, right then and there…like it was set in stone…It was horrendous…I blinded myself and him to realistic things, I forgot, or rather, I made myself forget about time and what it does to people…" Severus's eyes met hers, burning his resolve into them. "You may think that he believes he knows now what he wants…what he feels…but how can you _believe _that it is as undying as my own feelings? He has hardly been free to do as he pleases…has hardly had the time to think of futures more practical, more desirable…Explain to me why you believe that he would choose me? In the end, why would he wish for me to take the place of something so permanent?"

"You say you know him, Severus…" Sophia said. "Tell me, how loyal do you think he would be to the one he loves?"

Severus felt his heartbeat quicken in pace. She had asked him something that doubt had grown over like a festering mold or a thicket of weeds. In the beginning, he had put too much faith in the boy, all that he had, and somewhere down the line of his locked love such doubt had swarmed like clouds of locusts around that faith. He wanted Harry's love but did he truly want to know if the boy loved him? Even if it that love would never match the amount his heart was concaved with he had come to realize some time ago that he'd settle for anything, he was that far gone…

"Entirely…" was all he could say.

Sophia had leaned forward and her face reminded him of roses doused in sunlight.

"It _hardly_ matters what I believe…What you believe is the only thing that counts, the only thing that holds any kind of reality," she said determinedly.

"You are mistaken…" Severus said roughly. "You are fixated on a dreamlike perspective…If I allowed this relationship to continue, being who I am…it will ultimately lead Harry to ruin…Not only am I putting his life in danger…I am barricading him, his future…He will grow older, he will grow tired of me…I am definitely not an endless treasure…" Severus paused as he clenched his teeth, forcing the words to come. "He belongs with someone his own age…A girl his own age…He _fits_ next to them, he won't be miserable…"

"And what if it wasn't a girl?" Sophia said plainly.

His chest felt constricted, his lungs encased in ice. His face couldn't lie to her anymore and he hated it…

"You can lay down all of the excuses you can fathom, Severus," she said softly. "You can attempt to be as noble of a man as you wish…But it is a cracked façade."

"I beg to differ—" Severus's tone was low.

"It is a front," Sophia said with a gentleness that reminded him of Harry's eyes. "You'll deny it for him, for his sake, because you love him, you care for his happiness…I would never have expected it from the man I saw during my years here…"

Severus refrained from grimacing at her tone of admiration.

"You are just afraid," she continued and he did not want to listen but strained his will to do so. "You're afraid of many things regarding Harry. Rejection, disappointment, acceptance, though mostly you fear of what you will do if you come to find out that he feels the same as you, that he loves you in return, that when you start to believe in a future, that future won't exist…You don't want to admit this, you don't want to believe that the _only _thing keeping you from Harry is that you have it in your head that you don't deserve him and are desperately fighting back any kind of thought, any spark of hope, that goes against that."

Severus felt himself growing angry, growing defensive like always, but he ignored it because he had been a coward. He loved Harry and yet her words just told him the truth he did not want to honor. He loved Harry, so why? Why did he keep killing every chance he got to struggle to make such a relationship work? Was his greed really so wrong? What did Harry truly believe? Would he really allow the boy to escape his love? Would he give up if Harry wanted something different? What kind of man had he become to be ruled by someone else? He was lost.

"I understand your fear, Severus," Sophia said quietly. "This isn't something so easy. But I know it does not feel like a burden to you…Harry is the only thing saving you right now…"

He could not find the strength to oppose this statement.

"A person can go through their whole life carrying regrets they deny ever being regrets…It's sad really, how numb one can become to such suffering, it's sad how common it is," Sophia said softly. "Severus…aren't you tired of regret?"

Her eyes were full of a sound conviction and elegant significance, something he hadn't seen in a long time, and it was rare. And in that moment, unbelievable as it was, and despite how much he disliked her, he could tell that she was aware of things he had never said to her; of the drunken, brutally cruel man that his father had been, of things no children should ever have to live through, she could see all those old fears, the neglect, she could see the lament, the deep seeded evil, the drowning grief, and she could see that doubt strangling his hope, his love, all the things that made up the sort of man he was. It was absolutely infuriating.

He had stood, anger pulsing through his veins, hands clenched into fists. She was just sitting there, basking in that overconfidence, but having such sincerity in her pretty eyes that there was no way she didn't mean all that she had said. She did _care_. And she was sitting there so calmly, the only person in the world who cared if he and Harry could be together. He didn't know if he wanted to strangle her or feel eternally grateful to her…

He sat back down feeling exhausted, his head aching. He pressed his palms down upon his knees, his head slightly bowed.

"What do you expect from me?" Severus said silently.

"What do you expect from yourself?" she replied just as silently.

"I _don't _KNOW!"

His shout had echoed against the dungeon walls around them. He was glaring at her again, gritting his teeth.

"Then do you think you were better off before?" Sophia said and there was a small smile on her face but her eyes did not reflect it. "Grief driven and a slave to misery?"

"No!" Severus snapped.

"But you still kept going…I remember your spite," she said. "I remember asking myself how a man could live like that. You were so cold…"

"Enough!" Severus grounded out. He was growing anxious. "I don't have time—"

"Do you think he wants to see you like that again?" Sophia said and her voice had risen somewhat.

"It's of no concern to—"

"Then what do you want me to say? I don't know how to make you realize that your love for him is just as authentic as theirs, more so even I'm sure," Sophia said.

"That doesn't mean anything if he does not feel—"

"You have to tell him," she said with definiteness.

"I can't…" Severus made the words audible and he felt that weakness, he felt like a fool, younger than her in some way, of lower intelligence.

"Why?"

"I don't…I want to…and I wanted it to be him first…" Severus said in almost a forcible whisper. "I don't know anymore…I keep mixing the both of us up…I thought I was doing the right thing…and I told him the truth…I don't want to know what he thinks of me…He deserves someone…far from who I am….I know that…" Severus shut his eyes tightly. Why was he saying all this? As if he was given a few drops of Veritaserum, as if he trusted her with all of it, as if there was nothing to lose…

"Severus…" Sophia said in a whisper.

And something seemed to stop him from going any further. He wasn't ready, his so called façade was not yet shattered and he knew one thing; the monster that was doubt existed across that line and he did not know if he could reach Harry on the other side of it…

"I guess that's all for today," Sophia said kindly.

Severus did not reply. He felt consumed by sudden self-loathing and disappointed once again. As she was putting her clipboard back into her handbag Severus noticed the soft rose color of her nail polish and he was struck by a memory.

"Pink…" Severus said.

"Excuse me?" Sophia said as she looked up at him.

"I remember you," Severus said as his eyes narrowed. "You were the girl who splattered my entire classroom with…what I can only describe as…horrid congealed pink _goo…_It wouldn't come off the walls for weeks..."

"Oh, in my Third Year," Sophia said with actual joyfulness. "I remember. I did that on purpose."

"I _know_ that," Severus snapped, irritated by her guiltless expression. "And you would have gotten a month's worth of detentions if that…_imbecile _Royle hadn't taken the blame for you."

And she had laughed lightly at the sudden recollection which only irritated him further and at the same time, calmed him.

"Would you like a very belated apology, Professor?" she said as she folded her hands together on her lap.

"No…" Severus said. "I just really did not remember you as a student of mine till now…"

"Perhaps we are getting to know one another," Sophia said.

"Definitely not," Severus replied quickly.

"Of course," she said, smiling once more. She stood and so did Severus. "I will see you next Wednesday, have a good afternoon."

"Indeed…" Severus said halfheartedly.

He watched her pick up her coat and scarf. He did not walk her to the door.

* * *

He felt translucent, almost like a ghost wandering throughout the bleak corridors of the castle; or a shadow perhaps, just taking up corners of space without actually being a tangible thing. The days felt so heavy on his body however and he was being taken away by them as if caught in a rushing current and he felt himself, his very skin, trying to battle against the time that dithered on so flawlessly.

He felt absent and almost blind because of the tangled and piercing emotions that he was stuck with, a hopeless prisoner to, and it angered him that he was so abused by them, so obedient to them. He had kept to himself throughout the week, staying in the company of either Ron or Hermione who were still avoiding one another and without their equal presence Harry felt more like an outcast than ever. He would filter through his daily schedule barely alert which earned him more bruises in Quidditch practice and an abundance of staring, curious eyes speculating as to why his demeanor and behavior had changed so dramatically.

He felt as if he were giving everyone the cold shoulder and of course he blamed it on Severus, who else? It was better than to blame himself for being a coward, for listening to Hermione's advice and going along with the undesired break between himself and the man. He felt like his heart was encased in rock and that his lungs were too small to take in enough oxygen and he felt absolutely lost again and his hope was at its bleakest. When would it end?

But the days had come and gone and he would avoid those black eyes as if they belonged to a basilisk and he would conquer the immense need to just run down to the cold, dank dungeons and confront the man himself and he would try not to dream of him but these days, these nights, were filled with dreams that felt ultimately real, more so than his actual time spent wide awake. In these dreams, where he had no control, he felt as if he could taste the fire in that hearth as the heat spread like the wind over his skin and he was no longer lonely because the man was with him, sharing the firelight, the warmth, his feelings, the beats of his heart.

They were rampant across his soul, ruthless, so very brutal to his senses and he would wake up feeling as if his body had been ravished, as if every emotion had been poured out of his entire self and consumed by the man and he felt finished, felt beaten and so ready to admit defeat. He was so tired.

And how he wished he could see Severus again, how he wished he could make the stricken rift between them vanish, to make himself believe that he knew everything about such a man and accepted it wholeheartedly. He didn't want to run away anymore but he did not know of what to do to be able to see him again. And he would ask himself, like a fool, what would he have to do? He had forgiven Severus, without even knowing when, so he needed to tell the man, wasn't that the obvious thing to do? Wasn't it the only thing to do?

But it didn't feel right anymore and he wondered if he would ever have the _right_ moment, the perfect moment and he would try to purge his brain of such romancing thoughts and beg his mind to focus on the many problems he did have already and they were starting to be more than too much for him. He just wished he could break away from it all.

He could barely recall the classes that took place in the drab hours of these days that felt so short-lived and he was falling behind with homework since the end of the semester was coming ever so near and it was as if his professors had never heard of the word "leniency"; therefore he was up late almost every night trying to stuff as many details into various essays for either Charms or Transfiguration and still coming up short in their lengths. Luckily, Defense wasn't as harrowing as they had only returned to their text book on more chapters of casting elemental spells and to Harry's surprise, despite his lack of concentration, he was getting better with the fire element but did almost accidentally break a window with a misfired lightning spell.

Then there was his voice which was still missing and what was beginning to bother him, to irk him more than anything, was that he was coming to that halfway point and he hated counting down the months in his head, the weeks, the days, all piling up and making him realize just how long it had been since he had last spoken out loud. It had been five months, five months of silence and it made him very dizzy to know that in another month it would be half a year, half a year gone on without once ever hearing his own voice.

And as of late, especially since he had last felt happy with Severus, he was beginning to feel as if his voice wasn't present at all within him, as if really had disappeared forever, as if his vocal cords did not exist and it made the real, bruising weight of losing Sirius that much more heavy and he couldn't help but feel so inferior, debilitated, a lost cause.

And still, Ms. Gardiner was here, trying to help him though he felt as if his emotions were being drawn back from her, like he was shutting down, becoming like a living drone, and he was severely disappointed with himself.

He would watch things go by, life drifting, happening, but he felt abandoned, felt alone. Lavender Brown was still cooing and nuzzling up to Ron regardless of how the boy truly felt and he would catch Hermione's eyes, would see the hurt and protest, and perhaps she too was feeling just as cowardly as him for he knew, at the end of the day, they were both just too afraid, too uncertain, to go after the thing they wanted most, who they loved.

* * *

He had been so accustomed to a life of routine; of a deliberant, reflexive lifestyle, where his thoughts felt like they would tip into some sort of black void during the plodding days because they did not matter, nothing had mattered because he was lifeless, almost unresponsive to any sort of human contact. He had lived out those days, though they felt so very old and decrepit now, he had schlepped through them, through the sloppy bitterness and grinding malevolence and his bones, how they had felt as if winter was the only season in the year, every year, long, stretched so far, much too far for a human soul, much too cold and dark, pitch black.

He had wasted so many years.

But they were gone from his body, erased and he felt healthy now, awake, wide awake and real, divinely real as if his senses, all of them, had been resurrected from such a deep, desolate pit that had been filled with decaying dread and rancid roots of scabbing acrimony.

Here he was now with a chance to never become that way again, to free himself of fast aging guilt and to let his hands, his soul reach out to a tempting future. He could see it, in his dreams; they would be together, live together, age together, and their company would be forever; enjoyed and indulged, and he would suck it down to the marrow and for the life of him, he did not understand his heart and how it could have grown to feel this way, to feel such love for a boy's soul.

People would wish ill upon them, would demand him to be prosecuted, to be punished and they would hate him, would desire him murdered, would think him such a waste of a man, a sick and evil man, disgusting, would think his soul to be nothing but trash.

But he didn't care; not two shites worth.

She was making that ever so clear to him now how ready he was for such a future and how willing. Sophia Gardiner, with her unyielding backbone and fragrance of beauty; he would never have expected it from her, not from such a proper woman, not from such an altruist soul, the perfect humanitarian. But she had been a menace in her days in school; he had remembered her biting tongue, her quick defiance to rules that she had thought unneeded or outdated. She had desired such reform from her school mates from what he could recollect and she had been such a bossy young girl, much like a certain Gryffindor know-it-all that he taught now.

Though she was valiant and straightforward and, very much against his will, he had thought she was capable of such a relentless kindness that the boy was known for. She hadn't taken his classes seriously and had chosen not to sit her O.W.L. and from there it had been the last he had seen of her till now. He had disliked her for many of the reasons why he had detested James Potter. She had been popular and boisterous, hard-headed and domineering and in spite of that Severus had been dully aware of her talents, how studious she had truly been, she had a shy compassion for others and he had remembered a girl with such a prominent stare going around and out of her way to help others who had looked lost with their studies and he had known how handfuls of students had flocked to her for her at the ready assistance…

She helped people, for whatever reasons that he could not fully understand, when it came down to it, she helped people; it was crystal clear to him now.

And for whatever reason, she wanted to help him and it could have astounded him and he could have turned her away without much civility but he couldn't lie to himself, he was in need of her help and he was tired, as she had told him, weary, exhausted of such bleeding regret. He wasn't alone with such a love anymore, he had someone who supported him no less and, regardless of his suspicion, he let it bring him that ringing hope in this complicated, bewildered, doubtful, certainly impossible situation.

The way back was gone, boarded up and meaningless.

But there was still fear and yet that seed had grown, sprouted with such fine beginnings, its roots sturdy, buried deep and it continued to grow with his heart, in spite of such doubt and desperation, no matter how little light there was.

Severus felt caged, stuck, unsure of what to do, what direction to go in. There was no common compass for such a problem as his own and the truth was, so apparent and staring down at him with such conviction, there was only one way out, one way to end such measurable suffering, only one way to reach that seemingly unattainable future. He had to confess his love. Why couldn't it be easy? Easy because he wanted to tell Harry, so much so it was a constant harassment on his mind, clinging inside his bones, grating through his blood. It should be simple; they were the truest words he would ever speak…

But he could not say them. They were captured by doubt, constricted, bounded by it and he felt so childish. This fear felt so crushing on his limbs. His impatience was slaughtered through the days that past and he did not know how he got through them, he did not know how his sanity had survived it. And he would see Harry who looked more worn-out by the day, whose eyes held darkening shadows underneath them, who was looking thinner and anxious, but those eyes, they remained just as bright, like a winter's blue sky, and how his heart beat for the boy, called to him, filling up with memories, of a just worn in happiness, and it had been stripped away too soon from them, ruined and mangled and thrown out and it was all because of him, it was his fault that he had done this to them no matter how scarce their sort of relationship was, no matter how absurd or how immoral.

It didn't need reason no matter how much he begged for its reason.

Her words were tipping the scale of his better judgment and her words, somehow, were chiseling away his layered doubt. He wouldn't admit it to her, not out loud anyway. He still had his pride after all however meager.

And Harry still continued to obliterate his composure and his resolution. He couldn't help it, it was like he was guided to the boy, a compulsive thing, or perhaps it was natural, an instinctive attraction. He couldn't give it up, it wasn't something to give up; nevertheless he wasn't brave.

November 18th had come, a dreary, blistering cold Monday and he had sat at his desk absentmindedly grading essays while the boy stood before his workbench next to the Granger girl working on their assigned potion for the day. The sound of simmering cauldrons and ingredients being prepped and measured grew in volume till it was a bored and steady well-known sound to his ears. He had come to Harry's paper, the penmanship somewhat awful but he read through the boy's words even though he had to strain his eyes to do so, it was the only sort of one-way communication they had had in the past two weeks. His self-control was being bulldozed.

In that moment, as he wrote a hasty red inked **E** at the top of the paper his heart had given a jolt and his lungs had felt tight and he felt his eyes journey upward and stop to look at Harry. He could see the soft trembling of those nervous hands, could feel his body reacting to that demeanor he knew so well, that body, and his mind was throttled, suffocated with what he had seen; naked, glistening skin, red flushed cheeks, darkened, shined and begging lips, glossed, transfixed eyes, ablaze with embarrassment and yet how striking that face was, how attractive, and how tightly did those hands grab at him, at his back, how had those nails felt, grazing against his own naked skin?

What was he doing? How could he let the boy ever escape his own hardened, desiring gaze? His own vice-like grip? What if he should lose the boy? What if Harry's heart was smitten by another? What if it wasn't a girl, like Sophia had so blatantly suggested? What if the boy really did fall in love with one of them? What if he got away, forever?

A giant sized swell of anxiety seized his body and he felt overthrown, as if he had been heaved off a high cliff.

"Mr. Potter!" he had called forcefully, almost angrily.

It had been an instantaneous accident, something so very uncontainable and too quick for him to stop. A few students had jumped in their seats. Ms. Granger had flinched, almost dropping her beaker. A pair of scales tipped over, the sound banging against his ears and he could hear his own heart, knocking crazily within him.

And Harry had been startled and his expression had been momentarily stunned, those eyes rushing to meet his own and Severus had to stop his own body from flinching. The boy was standing over his cauldron, a dropper in his right hand hovering inches above it. Two or maybe three seconds flitted away at a sloth's pace.

"Three drops of dragon's blood, not four," the firm words seemed to have created themselves out of the numbness his brain felt at the moment and it was lucky that he had witnessed the boy make the certain mistake. If he had not done so, he wouldn't have known what to say at all but a forged excuse for taking House points like he had done to the boy so many times in the past.

"Do pay attention to the steps on the board…" he continued tensely and took a moment to flash his eyes at the rest of the class. "That goes for all of you; get back to work, _now_."

They obeyed all too quickly and he allowed himself to breathe and from the corner of his eye he caught the rising color in the boy's face and then the boy continued with his potion, glaring at it.

All Severus could do was go back to grading essays and he thought, gallingly, that he was thankful he hadn't shouted the boy's first name instead.

* * *

It was Wednesday, November 20th, and Harry's downhearted state had only grown worse and it felt saddled to his back, stuck to his skin like a permanent glue and he could not wash it away though he had tried to feel better, had tried to converse with his friends but it hadn't helped much. Everyone around him seemed to be in high spirits since the holiday season was coming closer and so was the ball. Harry didn't know what to feel about the ball but annoyed since the day was fast approaching and girls seemed to be flocking around him, waiting for their chance to ask Harry to be their date.

It felt ridiculous. There were others things to worry over than some ball, like the fact that Voldemort was on a tirade of murders and more people had gone missing this month than the last. What was he to do but fall down somewhere and give in? He found himself these days wanting to stay in bed rather than to face the teenagers of Hogwarts.

Lately Hermione had been the one to try to cheer him up though Ron had done his best by finding time to sneak away from Lavender to play chess with Harry or talk of random things like Quidditch and the boy's nerves seemed to have hardened themselves as he was excited for the upcoming match at the end of the month. Life was still in session but Harry had no such endurance for it.

And there was Severus who he was still fighting against better reason to talk to the man as Hermione's words were the shackle around his leg that kept him from going straight up to Severus and demanding they speak to each other, like what normal people did when there was a dispute between them, he didn't care if such a dispute was over their relationship, didn't mind how discomfited it sounded in his head.

The man was a rotten git. Why had he kept ignoring Harry for over two weeks and then suddenly shout his surname almost desperately in front of his classmates, causing him a mountain of embarrassment, making his heart jump to his throat and frightening him as if the man were a Hungarian Horntail? For a slip of his hand that caused two drops of dragon's blood to fall from his dropper instead of one? It had made his body fill with such anger, a storm of it rising and rising and it had confused him so much more than it was worth.

Was Severus really afraid? Was he really trying to push Harry towards something he thought was better for his life, his future? Or did such a future displease him? A future with Harry? Most days, or in his daydreams rather, it sounded so idiotic, so crazed and twisted, like a delusion brought on by a high fever…But he wasn't delusional and such a future, to him at least, looked wonderful and he had wished there could be happiness there, for the both of them, and anything else besides that felt wrong, felt disappointing and easily regrettable.

He was trying to find courage again. He had told Ms. Gardiner about it that morning during their session where Harry again had acted withdrawn and on edge. She had made him recall all the steps he had taken to get to this point so it felt organized for him and in a better perspective and there hadn't been many though she had said holding a funeral for his godfather had been one of the bigger ones.

And then she had begun asking him questions, simple questions to make him feel at ease, to relieve his stress and then she had brought out a little metal object that when its winder was turned it would make a dinging noise every couple of seconds and it reminded Harry of a water droplet though the sound was like twanging metal. Ms. Gardiner had him close his eyes and clear his mind of all thought, of all his worries and the metallic sound seemed to have grown louder as time passed and it had felt reverberated against his chest, soothing his skin and he had felt relaxed, had felt so sleepy in fact.

When the waves of the unique sound had stopped against his ears he had felt that it had worked somewhat and to end the session they had practiced Occlumency and Harry had come to realize that his skill had improved greatly; it gave him some sort of reprieve to know that Voldemort, though he was keeping Harry's mind out of his, would not be able to plant anymore fake memories inside of his head…

She had walked Harry to Charms like before and he was left to face the rest of the day. He had actually paid attention to Professor Flitwick as they were working nonverbally on performing silencing Charms though the irony was thick. He did manage to cast the charm first, successfully, on Lavender as she had been chirping away in Ron's ear as Ron was trying to silence a bullfrog. It had made Hermione smile bringing about his own smile, though it had been weak.

After lunch he had expected the rest of the day to drag on through the freezing afternoon. Hermione had made use of her warming charms as of late since the days had been growing ever so frigid and the sky had been collecting graying clouds. Harry had been hopeful for an early snowfall and yet not one flake had fallen. He would only wake up to find the windows fogged with thin sheets of ice. He would look up at the sky each day in anticipation and he did not know why he started to long for the white of snow, for the crispness of it and how thickly it would blanket the grounds, making everything almost pure.

But there was no snow and the day did not drag on because Professor McGonagall caught all the 6th Year students heading to Potions and had made an announcement that the class had been cancelled for the day.

And an immediate sense of trepidation sifted down upon Harry's body. Something had happened, something bad, he knew it.

"Professor Snape, at the present time, is unable to instruct you all this afternoon. I advise that you make use of this time to catch up with your other class work as it is the end of term and I expect nothing less of an E from all of you in my class when you take your exams. That is all," she said resolutely, looking at their group.

They had been just outside the Great Hall and everyone else besides Harry dispersed including Hermione though she had given him a worry filled glance. McGonagall seemed to have been waiting for him as Harry had come before her, his eyes demanding to know what had happened.

"Potter…I think you should discuss this with the Headmaster, he should be in the Hospital Wing—" and he hadn't heard what else she had said for he had turned on his heel and began to run to the entrance hall and up the many flights of stairs, his weighted school bag in tow.

He did not meet Professor Dumbledore in the Hospital Wing but rather the floor below as the old wizard was walking toward him. Harry skidded to a halt, out of breath and he was now looking into the weary, twinkling eyes of the Headmaster.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore spoke softly though the small smile was not present on his face. Harry's heart was in overdrive, smashing in his chest painfully and his face felt flushed.

"What's happened?" Harry signed clumsily.

"Voldemort," Dumbledore said quietly. The corridor they were in was completely empty and somewhat shadowed. "Professor Snape was called earlier today. I'm certain you remember Harry that Ollivander had been attacked that day in Diagon Alley?"

Harry nodded at once.

"Well, Ollivander had been against going into hiding, he wanted to carry on with his work, so the Order had placed him in a safe house where he continued to make his wands. Today, his whereabouts were discovered by Death Eaters who attacked Ollivander once again. Remus and Alastor had been guarding the home at the time," he said steadily and Harry's eyes had broadened at the mention of Lupin and Mad Eye Moody. "They were badly injured, especially Remus though he will recover, he is at St. Mungo's now. They prevailed in keeping Ollivander safe and he has agreed to stop his work and be protected by the Fidelius Charm." Dumbledore let out a short sigh, his hands were held behind his back so Harry could not see the injured one. "Their second blunder, as you can guess, made Voldemort severely angry. He does not tolerate failure from his followers. They were…disciplined."

Harry's heart had skipped over itself.

"Professor Snape…?" Harry signed weakly, his lips barely moving to the silent words and he already knew the answer and fear bubbled up in his stomach.

"Yes, Harry, but he will be fine," Dumbledore said gently. "His injuries will take a few days to heal but nothing was irreversible. He is alright. He has taken up a short term of residence in the Hospital Wing, Poppy was quick to treat him."

The sinking feeling in his chest hurt and it felt like someone had dragged spikes down his spine.

"You can go see him, if you'd like," Professor Dumbledore said calmly and his eyes were slightly contrite, looking down upon Harry.

Harry nodded, his legs already moving forward torpidly. He did not stay to ask Dumbledore why Voldemort was after Ollivander, he did not care in this moment when all he could think of was seeing Severus, he didn't say anything more to the old wizard who was silent as he watched Harry hurry off.

He ran faster, not caring for the few students who he passed by who had stared. He had slowed down however when he saw the open, thick wooden doors of the Hospital Wing, its warm light spilling out upon the dimly lit corridor. He did not know why his feet had stopped running and his body had started to tremble softly, his fingers gripped at ends of his uniform sweater's sleeves. He felt foolish. What would he do when he saw Severus? Did he expect them to speak to one another? Would Severus care that he had come to check on him? But he had questions, he had to know what had happened to the man, exactly what had happened…

So he had stopped at the doors, unseen still and leaned to the side to take a peek. However, what he saw confused him greatly:

Harry could see Severus who was in one of the beds toward the back of the ward, sitting up, his back resting against a large pillow. He wore a white dress shirt with a few of its top buttons undone and a gray woolen blanket was covering the rest of him. His hair was somewhat waved. There were small bandages over cuts upon his face. His hands were folded upon his lap and Harry could see that his left hand and wrist had been wrapped with a bandage as well.

The sight of Severus looking generally fine despite his exhausted eyes was not what had shocked Harry. The man's black eyes were staring into those of Ms. Gardiner.

Ms. Gardiner was sitting at the man's bedside in a wooden chair and in the space between them upon the metal table was a clear vase of a bouquet of bright yellow flowers. As Harry had seen her this morning, her hair was still curled and her red lipstick brought out the vivacity of her green eyes and she wore a cream colored wool coat with black buttons which covered her outfit underneath. Her legs wore black stockings and she had on a pair of black ankle boots. She was smiling at the man, she had been laughing softly.

The light of the lamp behind them seemed to have engulfed their little space in the room. The scene had staggered Harry's concentration for some reason. It should have looked odd to him, it should have been bewildering and yet it wasn't.

Severus was not looking at her with disdain or annoyance. He was just simply looking at her as her hands were folded on her lap as well but one reached out, touching a flower and her voice was too low for him to hear but she smiled again, nodding and Severus had said something in return and it had also been inaudible to Harry's ears and then the man had only just smiled, however roughly at her. There was something in his expression, something liberated. He was at ease. Severus was at ease, comfortable, being with her like the way they were.

And they were being so quiet, almost whispering and Harry didn't understand it, couldn't understand what he was seeing. Why was she here with Severus? Harry's heart was thumping and cold in his chest. His vision was shaky upon them. They were feet away. What was wrong with this picture? Why couldn't his legs work all of a sudden?

Then he realized that there was nothing wrong with this picture.

His heart overflowed with torment and in that instant he understood why Severus had told him all of those things that night, things about regret, of a different future, a different life…

He had never seen the man like this, not in this way, next to a woman, a beautiful woman no less; young, intelligent, and just as refined as himself. He felt dizzy as he came away from the opening, hiding so he wouldn't be seen by them.

He had never thought in the way the man had thought. He had never grasped at the possibility that there were plenty of things he couldn't ever give the man. And what he had just seen, regardless if it had been Ms. Gardiner and Severus, it had looked so normal. It scared away the possibility of courage. He had no courage in this moment. And dozens of questions were ringing in his head.

What kind of life could he give Severus? Was it too dangerous? Was he holding the man back from having a normal life? When evil would be vanquished, what would be left for Severus when he was finally free from the demon? Himself? A mute, inadequate, average teenage boy? He wasn't special. And the reality of everything seemed to fall on him like a boulder. Because Severus could do better, could have a normal life, a family and all of the things he had daydreamed about and it was possible with a woman, especially one like Ms. Gardiner was.

His eyes burned and he felt broken and lost and he could hardly breathe. Hadn't he been aware of it? That Severus deserved such things, greater things than Harry could ever offer. It scared him beyond anything. Because feelings could change and people could change and he could never be like Ms. Gardiner, like the woman that she was, lovely and clever and polished and he could never, ever look natural and right next to a man such as Severus…

Harry had rested his back against the wall because he could not feel his legs anymore and he was breathless.

Did it really have to be true? Even after all that they had been through? Even after they had murdered the hatred that had been like an open wound between them?

Did his love mean nothing?

Would he become so expendable?

Harry shut his eyes tightly against the wave of emotion that was overrunning his senses.

No. _No. _

Why should he care if that picture had been so perfect?

It was just doubt, doubt that quested to ruin everything, to make his love feel so empty and replaceable. He wouldn't be traded for that picture, for what was normal or ceremony. He wasn't just rubbish compared to that. He wanted Severus, needed the man, he wanted a life with him and would he really just give that all up now? Just because there could be something better for the man? He was right for him, he could give Severus everything that a woman could and he would be damned if he would surrender now.

He felt his body feel electrified with a sudden eagerness.

He wanted to belong next to Severus, always and he wouldn't give up that place so willingly, he had to fight for the man, had to, he must, he wasn't a coward.

And he was jealous of that picture. A great storm of jealousy had erupted inside his chest. He didn't care for his insecure feelings or embarrassment or how desperate and hopeless it all was. He had had enough. There wasn't anything else for him but Severus, his heart knew it, had known long before now. He would make the man see, make Severus see that they could be together, see that their future was promising…

Harry had pushed himself away from the wall and he did not enter the Hospital Wing, instead he ran back down to the Great Hall. There were a few students who had free periods after lunch who had hung around. He found Hermione with her wand out practicing a few Transfiguration spells on a goblet while Dean, Seamus, and Katie Bell were talking with one another. Harry hurried over to her, grabbing her by the wrist tightly and she had been startled but he pulled at her and she got up from her seat.

He rushed her out of the Hall as his fellow Gryffindors had looked at him in surprise.

"Harry," Hermione let out as he made her face him once they were out of the way of the Hall's entrance.

"I'm done waiting," Harry signed vigorously. His eyes were vivid and filled with a fiery determination, glaring at her.

"What…?" Hermione said and she still had her wand out, pointed slackly at the floor.

"I'm not going to wait for him to give me the ok," Harry signed. "It's pathetic and pointless. All of it has been pointless and I've given it enough time, I forgive him for what he did and that's that, there's nothing else for me to do than to tell him how I feel."

Hermione's shoulders had lowered and she had collected herself, giving Harry a look of sympathy and in her eyes he could tell that she had accepted his decision. She could only nod in finality, her lips pressing together out of concern.

Harry nodded and he had been about to go back into the Great Hall with her but a girl had come up to them, a 5th Year Ravenclaw with curled, dark brown hair and very light blue eyes. She was giving Hermione a glowering expression. Behind her a large group of students had come in from the entrance hall, bringing with them the scent of the freezing late autumn air, all shivering and chatting.

Hermione looked somewhat perplexed and then she hurried off into the Hall. The Ravenclaw girl came before Harry now. She was a bit shorter than him. Her face was fair and skin very light. Her hand had grabbed his, tugging him away from the crowd of students in annoyance. Harry felt worked up and agitated, his mind very firm on the decision he had just made.

She had let his hand go, brushing her hair from her shoulder, her cheeks were a bit flushed.

"I'm Ellie," she said quickly. She eyed him up at down thoroughly. "I really like you, Harry." And her eyes, like blazing crystals, were buried into his. She was calculating his stare. "I want you to go out with me. It's obvious that we'd look perfect together. I want us to go to the ball together. What's your answer?"

"No," Harry signed instantly. "I don't want—"

And she had slapped him, hard, the sound of it even hurt his ears. His left cheek burned and his glasses were askew on his face, his eyes wide in the sudden timing of it, he had dropped his school bag. He slowly looked to see her face, she was fuming, her eyes defiant and he had never had this reaction from any of the girls he had turned down.

"Of course!" she snapped and her hands were on her hips.

Harry straightened his glasses, putting his cool, right hand on his searing cheek.

"Of course you say no! Just like all the others," she spat and she had paused, taking a breath. "It seems no one is good enough for the infamous _Harry Potter._" She had flipped her hair once more, turning swiftly and stalked away from him.

Harry had realized there had been people watching him, a mixture of those who had been outside and those leaving the Great Hall. He could have laughed but he caught Ginny's stare, her expression plain. She was holding a large Transfiguration book against her chest, her hair pulled back with a daisy yellow colored band. She had blinked, turned around and walked through the crowd of students who were already separating from each other. And then he had caught Cho's dark brown eyes and she gave him an awkward nod and had walked off.

He hadn't realized he was blushing and he had quickly grabbed his school bag and rushed off into the Great Hall.

* * *

The following days Harry had met with a spring of drive and had caught up on his class work and had occupied his time with helping Neville with nonverbal spells once again and figuring out exactly how he would go about talking with Severus when the man was out of the Hospital Wing. He hadn't gone to visit him once and the question of why Ms. Gardiner had been sitting at the man's bedside still hovered with the rest of his thoughts.

He had been growing ever so anxious but he had thrown aside the depressing state he had been in and his eyes had begun to view things under a new light. There were things that needed to be done, problems to solve and his feelings for Severus were first on that list, he would guess Voldemort and his muteness were in contest for second. It wasn't the best arrangement but it was the best he could do to try to control the devouring stress he was faced with.

The day had come sooner than he expected, Monday, November 25th and he greeted it by waking up early. He had slept without any dreams and he hadn't felt rested in quite some time. But he was done wallowing in self pity and anguish; he was done with doing nothing to change things.

His mind was made up and he had come to a convinced peace because of this.

He would not let doubt win over his conviction though the feeling was trying its best to wheedle its way into Harry's thoughts. He had sat at lunch only eating half of his salad that he hardly tasted. He had planned to get Severus to talk to him after Potions. He couldn't help but wonder how Severus was and what he was feeling now.

Had the man thought about him at all during their absence from one another? Had he wanted to see Harry but felt it was wrong to? Was he sorry? Did he want to say sorry? Did he want Harry still? Did he feel the same? Or had he forgotten about them already? Had that complex mind of his been taken over by something more important? Had he forgotten their summer together? The Fish Bowl? The first time they kissed? The pleasure they had given one another? Had he forgotten the way the light of the sun would spread across that ocean's waters? Had he forgotten everything?

It couldn't be.

And so suddenly did he find himself sitting before his workbench next to Hermione in Potions. Severus was standing so straight, reciting the steps for the potion they were brewing that afternoon and the man looked much better than he had seen him in the Hospital Wing, he looked healthy, strong…

_Handsome…_ The word had brought heat to his face and he had taken up his cutting knife and began to chop up his ingredients in time with Hermione. Severus had sat at his desk, taking up his red feather quill and had begun to grade papers.

Harry's chest felt itchy with anticipation. But he needed more than just a few moments with the man; he needed hours, many hours to talk to him, to tell him how he truly felt. And the only way he would get those hours to be guaranteed was if he received detention. It was rash thinking but Harry was distressed and he had very little options and his patience was growing thin like a twig.

So he waited while his potion was boiling under medium heat and his wand was out on his table, centimeters from his hand and Malfoy wasn't too far away and in the right range of Severus's point of view. At least he wasn't going to do it to someone who didn't deserve it. Malfoy deserved it. He had been a smug prat to Harry for days now, shoving him and calling him obscene names in the corridors, jinxing Hermione's quill in Charms, shrinking Ron's robes as well when McGonagall had her back turned, it had been outlandish and Harry had been holding himself back and his wand from giving the boy just exactly what he deserved.

So he concentrated as he picked his wand up in his right hand gently. His eyes were set on the blond Slytherin. Malfoy had barely lit his burner and was still chopping up roots and in the next second the contents in the boy's cauldron had exploded all over him and Pansy Parkinson who let out a shriek as the both of them had taken a step back, uniforms soaked and dripping with their potion.

Malfoy's eyes had turned to glare at Harry, instantly pinning the blame on him and Harry smirked, raising his eyebrows.

And Severus's attention had been grabbed when Pansy had screamed and he was now looking away from Malfoy and those black eyes were on Harry and the rest of the class had stopped what they were doing, waiting on their professor to bestow Harry's punishment.

Severus had stood and had taken out his wand. With a flick the part of Harry's and Malfoy's workbenches had been cleaned, vacant of their cauldrons and ingredients.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for a childish performance and you can see me after class, Mr. Potter," the man had said quietly and Harry had looked away from the man's gaze and sat down, feeling the eyes of his classmates on him. Severus had sat back down. Malfoy and Pansy had left the classroom to get cleaned up.

His heartbeat was erratic all throughout the rest of the hour and when class was dismissed Harry had taken up his bag and planted his feet firmly in front of the man's desk. Severus was putting papers in his drawers and returning quills to their ink pots. He did not look at Harry for many seconds as the 6th Years hustled out the door.

He was sick with nerves but he was prepared and he didn't care how jinxing Malfoy's cauldron had looked to the man, he didn't care for anything but having a conversation after it had been three weeks, three forsaken and damned weeks of Severus shutting him out and his own inane cowardice keeping him from the man.

Harry's eyes were light filled, his face pale but cheeks flushed with a soft crimson. There were still shadows underneath his eyes from nights gone on without sleep. And the memories he had of them were revived in this moment, old and new, mixing into one giant bowl in his mind but his heart wasn't conflicted, it sung for this man, that rhythmic beat so animate.

"You will serve your detention with Professor Royle this Saturday night at eight," the words were fast and monotone and then Severus was standing and Harry's thoughts collided into each other as they hit a brick wall.

"Wait, wait," Harry signed, his feet clumsy as he made his way to follow the man for he was walking toward his office door. "Stop!" Harry was mouthing the mute words and though Severus was fast Harry had pushed himself forward, coming in-between the man and the door.

"Would you just give me a minute?!" Harry signed, his eyes almost wide with his frantic emotions.

"Get out of my way," Severus said strictly and he had grabbed Harry's shoulder, pushing him from the door but Harry shoved his way back, slapping the man's arm from him.

"I want to talk to you!" Harry signed and he clenched his jaw, his eyes pleading. "Just talk to me, please, just stop this and talk to me!"

Severus's eyes were kept on the door, avoiding Harry's commanding stare. Harry reached out quickly, grabbing the man's arm, fingers clinging to his sleeve.

"Please…" Harry had spoken the word mutely.

But Severus had snatched his arm away from Harry's hold swiftly and once again grabbing Harry's shoulder he was more forceful this time and he was almost thrown aside, away from the door. Harry caught himself before he could fall over but the man was quick as always and the next thing Harry saw was the office door slamming shut in his face loudly. Harry let out an angry breath. He was furious at the man's actions.

It was just a locked door but it might as well have been a steel blockade, a blockade of Severus's evasion and he hated it wildly. Harry's willpower had faltered and he kicked the door and stalked out of the classroom.

* * *

His anger however had turned into sullenness and when Wednesday had come he found himself dragging his feet alongside Hermione who couldn't believe Severus's reaction. She had let him in past the gargoyle statue and he was in no mood to see Ms. Gardiner and he felt irritated for a reason he could only guess at.

When he opened the door he could see her; her coat was hung over the back of the chair she was sitting down in. She was looking down at a page upon her clipboard. She was gorgeous, as always. His eyes followed down her body. Her hair was done up prettily, her soft bangs brushed aside. She wore tiny black earrings that sparkled lightly. She didn't have much make up on, a bit of blush and light lip gloss. She wore a thin white cardigan over a short pearl pink chiffon dress and white laced high heels.

She looked delicate and lovely. And as he noticed this he could not stop the prickle of jealousy that was present in his chest. Should he ask her why she had been with Severus in the Hospital Wing? It didn't make sense to Harry.

Ms. Gardiner had smiled at him kindly as he sat down. He had a hard time looking her in the eyes. Harry set his school bag on the floor and placed his hands on his knees nervously.

She looked up at him, her eyes were energetic.

"So, how are you today Harry?" she asked.

"Fine…I guess," Harry signed. He couldn't shake the agitation he felt and that only served to agitate him further. Why was he angry with her? Why was he jealous of her? He felt embarrassed and very stupid. Was he honestly sitting here, thinking that she and Severus could have somehow miraculously have gotten close without his knowledge? Was he really thinking that they could have grown attached to one another that way? That they could have done something together?

No, it wasn't possible, it wasn't and it was pathetic of him to believe such a thing. And he could understand Severus as he sat there feeling the distraught emotion that jealousy was because he could comprehend how irrational it could make someone think, how distrusting. It was driving him mad and he never thought in his life that he could be a possessive person and a part of him did not want to be and the other part wanted the man just for him and the very thought of someone else having Severus made him feel deranged and feverish…

"Have you tried to talk with him, Harry?" Ms. Gardiner asked quietly.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. He shook his head no, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. Why did he feel like lying to her?

_Seems like you've been talking to him though… _The thought was bitter in his mind.

"I see," she said. "And why haven't you? Do you think you are not ready to tell him that you forgive him?"

Harry was staring at her hands that held the clipboard.

_Are you really not going to mention that you've been with him? What did you talk about? What was it that had you smiling? _

He didn't answer her.

"Don't you think it's worth it to try?" she said softly but her voice sounded muffled to his ears as he felt himself going off into his own darkening attention.

_What did you say to make him smile at you? To make him tolerate your presence? I thought he hated you…And now…he can look at you like that…act with you like that…and he won't even give me the time of day…_

"Professor Snape can be stubborn…" she said and her stare was gentle upon him.

"I don't want to talk about him!" Harry signed roughly.

It had surprised her though she had only let her petite smile fall and her eyes had become softer.

"Then we will avoid the subject," she said simply.

He could feel his heart jumping, he could feel the small quake in his fingertips and he felt like he was losing his grip on his temper. It was like he was keeping something big and furious trapped inside his ribcage that was desperate for freedom.

"Harry, I would like to try a new exercise today," Ms. Gardiner said and she had taken a piece of lined paper from her clipboard and held it out to him.

Harry took it, lowering his eyes and he sat back in his chair.

"I want you to make a list," she explained. "On that paper I want you to list all the qualities that made up who your godfather was; everything you remember, good and bad, what you miss…and I also want you to list the things that influenced you, the things that touched you, what he gave to you…Can you do that for me, Harry?"

Harry held the sheet of blank paper in his hand, staring at it and it had become hard to breathe as if the air had filled with thick tension and perhaps his anger. Why couldn't he stop feeling so angry?

"Why?" Harry signed after he put the paper on his lap.

"It's a grief exercise, it helps you embrace the memory of a loved one who has passed," Ms. Gardiner said quietly. "You can choose to do it in front of me or I could step out or you can opt to work on it later—"

"I don't want to do it…" Harry signed. His exhausted emotions were beginning to feel irrepressible and the anger was flooding fast within him. He could not place what was wrong but he could not stop it.

"Harry, you—"

"I'm sick of it…" Harry signed and he was glaring at the floor. The bones in his hands felt tight and stiff. His shoulders were trembling.

"What's wrong…?"

But he cut her off again and even though his words were silent she had stopped talking as if he really were shouting at her.

"Why do you keep asking that!? You know what's wrong! Everything is wrong!" Harry signed forcefully and he had leaned forward, his expression cold and dark. "I'm getting nowhere! Nothing is working and nothing is going to work! It's all useless!" Harry had grabbed the sheet of paper and he crumpled it in his hands heatedly, his face reddening. His heartbeat was irate. He tossed the mangled sheet aside. "You want me to remember him? As if I could ever forget him!? How will this help? Tell me! Writing it down, bundling it all up together like some present! What then!? What happens after!? I just feel miserable and guilty all over again! Nothing changes! It never will!" His eyes, that held tears that couldn't fall, were bright with wretched agony and such a stubborn wrath. He swallowed hard and his throat hurt, the muscles strained like all the times before where he had tried to scream.

He had stood, all of his rage focused on her and he felt relentless.

"And you can always look at me like that! Like you know everything, understand everything! So conceited and proper! What gives you the right!?" he signed and his hands were almost a blur but her serene eyes understood every word. "You don't know how to help me! You never did! And I believed in you! I thought I'd get my voice back! But where is it!? How long do I have to wait!? How long can a person feel this way!? I'll go mad before I speak again!" Harry had come away from his chair, taking a few steps away from her as well and giving her such a look of abhorrence and his eyes held such pain and that weighted, consuming guilt. "What difference does it make if I write it down!? He's dead and nothing is going to change that! Why can't you say it!? I'm tired of dragging it out like this! It always feels so…" and Harry's hands were clenched into fists and he had shut his eyes tightly against the building pressure in his chest, his heart, his very soul, and how everything ached and how unbearable it was and there was nothing to anchor him, to save him.

And he would have yelled at anyone in this moment, would have gone off on anyone but she was the only one here, the only focus he had for emotions he couldn't catch, couldn't keep caged in. What did Severus expect him to do? Bottle up this love as well and send it off onto the waves of that ocean? To forget? How long did he have to wait? He couldn't wait. He would do anything to reach the man, swim as far and as fast as he could and whether any storm and he didn't care if he felt disabled, if his ship was just a tiny row boat, it was enough, he'd make it enough to reach the man…

"How many people have you really helped!? How many people have given up on you!? You can't be so perfect! You can't look at me like you know everything about love! Not when there's a man here who's still deeply in love with you and you ignore it like it's nothing! Isn't that cruel!?" Harry's hands felt numb as he signed the words, barely aware of them and he was shaking from head to foot. "You sound like a hypocrite! I bet you're so caught up in helping everyone around you, you can't even take time to help yourself!"

Ms. Gardiner was just sitting there silently, her expression calm and her hands folded upon her clipboard. Her dark green eyes were forbearing.

"It's pointless, all of this!" Harry signed quickly. "I don't want to do this anymore!"

Harry had rushed forward, grabbed up his school bag and then he left her, slamming the Headmaster's door behind him.

* * *

When he had been summoned it had been just after his first class had finished that Wednesday. It hadn't been the first time he had had to deal with the Dark Lord's fury, in fact, like every Death Eater, he had grown accustomed to it, accustomed to the torture. And still he did not know why the Dark Lord needed the wandmaker Ollivander but Severus felt some sort of respite knowing that he had failed. The attack had been random and he had not heard of the news until he had learned of Lupin and Mad Eye's injuries.

Shortly after, before he could go to Dumbledore, he had been called. The punishment had been rapid and merciless as always and though he was so familiar with it Severus would not deny that it had been truly painful and quite bloody. He had barely been capable of returning to the school before he had collapsed. Dumbledore had found him and had helped him to the Hospital Wing.

He had been somewhat careless to think that the Dark Lord would have gone after Ollivander himself to reassure their success but the man had other things to tend to and this was what worried Severus. It had to have been the mystery potion or potions and it strung his composed nerves out like thin wire. It was intoxicating, not knowing what the Dark Lord was planning to do and more so of still being without any hint of knowledge of the Dark Lord's location.

That had been a week ago. He had almost been thankful for the pain that day; it had lived beside the constant ache within him that had been born in his chest since he had seen the boy that Halloween night.

But when he had woken up hours later she had been at his bedside. Sophia, who had sat with such serenity, who had displayed that intolerable smile, who had said she had worried for him. It did not bother him as much as he expected it to for he had been much too exhausted to care and the amount of pain reducing potions had surely affected his awareness.

She had been kind and they had talked of course about Harry and how the boy's session had gone that day. She had said that near death experiences did not mean he could skip their session together. Then she had transfigured the water jug into a vase with her wand and had made a large bouquet of daffodils appear within it and Sophia had said they were meant to bring him joy and to forget the pain he was in. In actuality, he knew she had done it to cast the darkness out of what had happened, to forget that he was a Death Eater there with her in that ward, as if he could forget that part of him.

They had talked for a long while in the quiet of the Wing as they were alone and he had admitted to her as his will had been cracked that he had been feeling an irritating enthusiasm to see Harry, to be with the boy. He had felt embarrassed, almost self-conscious of himself because she knew of what he and the boy had done, it was in her eyes and he could not help the uncomfortable tension it created between them although Severus was aware that he was the only one feeling it…

Sophia had simply replied that he give into his "urges" as she had called them causing him to feel incensed with her as she had given him a smile after her suggestion. He had slammed down her abysmal opinion and she had shrugged, telling him it was useless to resist his feelings and that it wouldn't be too long before it would become inevitable. It had angered him to no end because she had been so confident on the matter.

However, he knew Sophia was right. It was becoming more of a challenge to keep the distance between him and the boy, to ignore Harry so mightily. He felt like such a hypocrite and a blind fool though he was very conscious of the fact that Harry was now trying to get his attention.

And Harry seemed desperate for his attention.

The boy had tried to get detention with him, which only served to backfire in the boy's face and of course Severus had to be the only coward in the room as he had fled from the scene so quickly. He could not meet the boy's gaze because if he did, and for too long, Harry surely would have been pushed up against his office door and he would have began to kiss the boy without reluctance.

It disturbed him, the way his emotions were working now and it wasn't fair to the boy, not when Severus had laid out such a confession so brutally and now he had refused to talk to Harry. But he was obdurate and fearful, he was afraid of the words that Harry wished so strongly to say to him and he was afraid of the things he would do to Harry if he put his guard down even if only for a moment. He was selfish in that way, to cast the boy aside and then be so willing to bait the boy back in, it was horrifying to him, that he could act in such an evil manner.

How many times would Harry take it, tolerate his wallowing actions, his avoiding eyes, before it became too much? Severus wasn't worth such trouble, not even close to it. He would lose the boy, definitely, if he kept this up. It was becoming more inane by the day and he felt himself losing his grip on his determination. Why was he so determined to keep Harry away? It was such nonsense. How could the boy ever want him after he had treated him so terribly? Need him? He was becoming no more than a nuisance to Harry.

But that was why Sophia was here, right now, sitting across from him again; was it not? And he could not deny it, he felt stronger with her near for some despicable, insufferable reason. She was creating a sort of lifeline to Harry and despite that it was not her that kept the hope flickering, the hope that had yet to be extinguished by his doubt, no; it was his own confidence, not hers, his own faith. It was better to have her near; she had become the constant reminder to him of what would happen to his soul if he should lose Harry. And she was also the support he was in need of because he had begun to wonder on that Halloween night if he could have done this alone…

And today the woman looked somewhat off to Severus. She was still dressing with such a fine style and not wearing robes but her eyes held a bit of uneasiness. He had noticed something right away that morning as well; she had arrived earlier than usual for their meeting, much earlier as he had discovered that she had been waiting for him inside his office when he finished with his first class.

He didn't worry over her; that was one thing he wanted to make clear to himself, he worried for Harry, that was it. But she had not said anything yet and it was aggravating him. He straightened his cuffs out to get rid of some the awkward tension that was beginning to grow heavily around them in mixture with the trying silence.

"What happened?" Severus almost snapped. He was unable to mind the situation anymore. He was disappointed with his lack of restraint.

And she seemed more of a woman to him than ever before in the seconds that followed. Sophia had given him a quick, inhibited glance and there was a shade darker of red in her cheeks. The glimmer of the fire was kindled in her hair, a few locks of it framing her eyes that were strewn with light in that woodland green. Her soft hands were set upon her silver and golden fountain pen, her forearms resting on top of her clipboard.

Her dress was somewhat formal, as if she were going somewhere after her appointments and he was detested with himself that a brief stroke of curiosity flitted through his thoughts. Yes, she was flawless in looks but she was not undamaged, in fact, beyond such a pretty, elegant face he was very aware that she had a few issues that she had failed to sort out, that perhaps she was ignoring, had been ignoring for quite some time. He was once again disappointed in himself for thinking of things that did not matter to him…

"Come now, I haven't got all day," Severus said dryly.

Whatever it was that she could not say right away to him must have been embarrassing though Severus would not let it aside as if it only existed to her, it was only right that she feel some discomfort from their sessions since he had been feeling tons of it.

"He's never gotten angry with me before," she responded lightly. Her gentle stare was upon her fingers that held no rings, only her nails were once again painted with that supple pink. He did not wish to pay attention to her words but she was talking about Harry so he really didn't have a choice.

"Frustrated perhaps, but never angry…" Sophia continued.

It was confusing in the next moment for Severus's understanding because not only did she put on a miniature smile but her eyes had become glossed for they had filled with tears.

And he actually began to panic.

Inwardly, but still, it was panic.

He could not handle girls crying. Yes, he had made numerous girls in his classes cry in the past because of his cruelty but never a woman and it was the simple fact that women could cry for reasons that made not one ounce of sense to him and he had no experience with how to deal with such a matter.

He cleared his throat.

"Harry was angry?" he had asked slowly. Perhaps if he could avoid the reason for her tears, that would be best?

"He needed to vent…" she said and she had brought a hand up to her face, catching the tears from each of her eyes lightly. "I'm sorry…" And then she only continued to further confuse him because she had begun to laugh, it was quiet and lighthearted and her eyes had grown happy. She wiped more tears from her eyes.

"I've never seen him act like that…He was rude," Sophia said and Severus kept his mouth shut as no words were behind them anyway. He watched her as she chortled and he did not know how a person could laugh and cry at the same time and still look so refined but she was not hiding anything from him, she was herself, charming and radiating off the feeling that one gets when pouring rain disappears and the warm sun creeps out from dark gray clouds…

She had stopped laughing, letting out a silent breath. She looked somewhat crestfallen.

"I was afraid…" Sophia said and she had looked up at him, that unruly confidence returning to her eyes. "He was in so much pain and for the first time I had no way of helping him…I just sat there…I felt like I deserved it…I haven't been honest with him, I have not mentioned our sessions to him…"

"And they shall remain undisclosed," Severus said in a low tone.

"To save face?" she almost muttered.

Severus glared at her and he took from his coat pocket a clean white handkerchief and held it out to her.

"Thank you," Sophia said and she took it from him and dabbed her tearful eyes with it. Severus wanted to grimace but instead said:

"I am the one to blame." He lowered his eyes to stare at the fire. "I am causing him such pain…I always do…"

Sophia did not respond.

"What set him off?" he asked palpably.

"I wanted him to try another grief exercise. He refused," Sophia said. "He said it was all useless and he had had enough. And all that time I wished that you were present…that you would be able to comfort him, and that all he wanted, has been wanting for almost a month…is just to see you…"

"You are adding salt to my wounds," Severus said bitterly.

"I do what I can," she said and she had given him a cheeky smile and he had rolled his eyes.

"You can be as blunt as you would like, I am not so easily persuaded," Severus said.

The tears were gone from her eyes and she had handed him back the silken cloth.

"Keep it," Severus said, narrowing his eyes.

"You would be easily persuaded if you just gave him a chance to talk to you," she said, placing the handkerchief in her cardigan's pocket.

And he was tired of rebuffing her words.

"I _know_," Severus said and he reached out and picked up his cup of chamomile tea and drank from it steadily, setting it back down with little grace.

She mimicked him until she placed her cup down which Sophia had done with much poise. Her hands were trained to handle delicate things…

"You're looking for courage as well then?" Sophia said as she held her hands together upon her clipboard. "Forgive me for tantalizing you…I am need of your cooperation, for Harry's sake, but I am not a stranger of the certain fears you are holding on to…"

"You cannot sit there and tell me that your love life is as bleak as mine," Severus said resentfully and he couldn't believe he had said those words to her but they had come out without his brain's consent. Why was his tongue becoming as unfastened as his thoughts?

"And what if it were?" she said and she had smiled again.

He rolled his eyes again.

"Since we are on the subject, one which I meant to lean towards today, tell me Severus, what has your love life been truly like?" she asked with authentic intrigue.

Severus was quick to massage his temples to get rid of the ebbing ache in his head. Why did she need to know that certain amount of information? And why did he know that he was certainly going to tell her? What was wrong with him?

"I want to pass on this…redundant question," Severus said in attempt to overcome his failing resolve.

"I will wait until you answer it," Sophia said.

Severus eyed her for half a minute.

"Come now," she said almost mockingly. "What have your past relationships been like?"

"You're clever, why don't you have a guess?" Severus said obstinately.

"Would you really like the words to come out of my mouth?" she replied with ease.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes forming into slits, the visible black looking ominous. Seconds ticked away on the small clock upon the mantel.

"They do not exist," he said firmly and finally. He could feel the heat rising to his face. He could have lied, could have been withdrawn from her but he hadn't the energy anymore. "There was only one other person who I loved in the past, they were never aware of my feelings, nothing came from it, that is all."

"How long?" she asked quietly and he hated the kindness in her eyes, hated how she was so quick to accept such knowledge.

"A long time," was all he said.

Sophia was silent and still as she stared at him.

"If you knew me and not Harry, would you call me a freak?" Severus asked her in almost a whisper.

"There are people who live more complicated lives than your own, Professor," she answered. "And then there are those who fear the love of company above everything else…You've only opened your heart…You've reformed your soul." Her eyes, like hilltops under thunderstorms, were burning with truth, a desperate sort of truth…

"Spare me," Severus responded with a small slice of sarcasm.

"I think it's brave."

He tried to ignore her gaze.

"Stand up," she said suddenly.

"What for?" Severus asked, eyeing her cautiously.

"Stand up with me," Sophia said and she had placed her clipboard aside upon the glass table and stood, straightening her dress. She had come away from the couch. "Face me."

Severus rolled his eyes for the third time that morning and stood with much reluctance but none-the-less he had walked the few paces and faced her, standing straight. He was a little more than a head taller than her. Sophia was staring at him with an unreadable composed expression to match his own.

"Now wha—"

Before he could finish the short sentence Sophia had taken a step forward quickly, coming very close to him.

She embraced him.

His breath had been caught in his throat.

And her body was flush against his own, her arms wrapped around his back. It was gentle, that was what he had found out first, what his brain could come up with first. He had been stunned, he knew this.

She was warm and soft and her sweet, flowery perfume seemed to fill all of his senses. He was touching her without meaning to, his fingertips grazing over the material of her dress. Her expression was hidden from him as his eyes could only find the top of her head, seeing all the curls of her done up hair, seeing the shine from a clip, an ear, a thin shoulder underneath her white cardigan…

Severus could feel all of her against him; her breasts, her torso, her clothes, the heat in her skin made there by the fire and she was skinny but healthy. He could even feel the point of one of her heels against his dress shoe. She was so close and the moment between them seemed to take hours to go by.

His heartbeat had sped up in reaction to the abrupt contact and he could feel Sophia's heart, calm and unaffected through his chest. He was speechless and he couldn't come up with any sort of emotion that he was feeling. Why had she done it? What was she doing? Why did his limbs feel so numb?

And then she spoke, her feminine voice reaching up into the weighty silence of the room:

"Do you feel anything?"

He understood only a moment after she had said it and it made his heart feel so constricted and torn up. Because what he was feeling wasn't anything good, nothing primal, nothing with any sort of intensity, nothing had come to life inside of him. The shock was dying now and all he was left with was nothing, nothing but the want for her to let him go.

It was a direct realization or proof, which ever fitted better.

She was not Harry. That was it. Yes, she was beautiful, attractive, the stuff of shallow men's dreams but she was not Harry. And what he realized even more, much more in this moment, was how much he missed the boy, terribly so.

"I won't be offended," Sophia said in the hushed atmosphere.

He had put his hands upon her upper arms and brought her away slowly. It wasn't brash, it was considerate.

But his words were still lost, perhaps stolen by the thick fragrance of her perfume.

"Don't fear love," she had said when his hands returned to his sides and she was looking up at him with that recognition and even loyalty. "Have it, spoil it rotten."

His black eyes grew heavy with apprehension.

"Doesn't he mean everything to you?"

"But how did it happen? Can you explain that?"

Her eyes had filled with sympathy and he had no other choice but to rely on her with such questions.

"I've always thought that trying to understand the workings of the heart is an impossible feat."

His bones felt weightless and his heart felt like it had flown up to the ceiling.

* * *

He had never felt so horrible. He couldn't believe how he had acted. How could he have been so mean to her? She was possibly the nicest person in his life next to Mrs. Weasley and he had chosen to direct all of his anger and frustrations and self-loathing and grief onto her and it had been so swift and he had been unable to control it, the words had just come flying from his hands and he must have looked so awful to her, so angry and spiteful. Why did he have to do it, especially to someone like Ms. Gardiner? It was unforgivable…

It was Saturday morning, November 30th and Harry was mulling in his hostile thoughts in bed. The chilling air around the dorm room was not inviting though his mates had already gotten up and ready as they were excited for the Quidditch match that would take place that morning. Harry was in no mood to play the sport and he had been feeling such immense guilt over how he had treated Ms. Gardiner as the rest of the week had flown by in a haze.

He had been offensive and absolutely ungrateful and he hated himself for it. Harry was curled up, still in his sleeping clothes and he had to admit that he just felt like moping and being lazy. He would need to make it up to her in some way. He owed her a great apology.

At the moment there wasn't anything to be happy about. He had done his best to avoid Romilda Vane that week as the ball was just around the corner and it was bad enough that Ginny had been doing her best to cheer him up despite the stares that Dean was giving him.

Hermione had practically buried all of her attention into her books as she was studying for the end of term exams they would have to take soon. It was unfeasible to deal with the stress he was under. The constant weight of the need to tell Severus was unbearable and the company of it made him want to bang his head against a wall multiple times. How would he get the man to talk to him face to face? He had so many questions he couldn't answer by himself and they strained his mind to no end.

He was almost thankful that he would be spending his Saturday night with Professor Royle because perhaps he could ask the man for advice seeing as how he was sort of in the same boat as Harry having the one they loved refusing to talk to them; it was almost funny when Harry thought about it for too long.

He wondered if Royle was feeling the same way and that he was just able to hide it so well. All though he did not know the complete history between him and Ms. Gardiner he could understand what it was like to miss someone so dreadfully, so much so that your heart was frantic with pain and longing and it would keep him up at night.

And he missed everything about Severus. He missed the man's warmth, his touch, their intimacy and the kind carefulness between them. He missed the man's dominating presence, that velvety voice no matter what words were spoken, that black ink in such a gaze that filled his body with an electric reaction. He missed Severus's cooking, how he played the piano for him, the man's clothes and the scent within them; he just missed everything that Severus was to him, the way they were together, how he had felt so endless with Severus, so invincible.

It had been so lovely and effortless.

Because he hadn't felt like he was the Chosen One when he was with Severus, he did not feel so notorious and celebrated, not at all, he wasn't one of a kind; he had felt ordinary and he had truly engulfed how alive he had been in the hush of the night, in that dimness surrounding the firelight, in the moments where it had felt like the two of them were the only souls in the universe…

How he just wanted to return to one of those nights. Maybe then he would have the courage to say how he felt, those conquering three words.

With a drowning feeling of resistance Harry had gotten out of bed, showered, and changed into dark jeans, a thin red long sleeve shirt, his hooded gray jumper and white and gray trainers. He brushed his teeth quickly and combed his hair. He looked sullenly at his reflection in the mirror before heading out of the restroom and downstairs.

He found Hermione waiting for him. She was sitting on the sofa dressed in a dark brown wool coat, a fluttery knee high white skirt, black stockings and brown ankle boots. She was alone in the common room, her expression somewhat gloomy but she had smiled when Harry had appeared behind the couch. He gave her a sheepish smile back.

They walked hand in hand down to the Great Hall where they found Gryffindor table and Ravenclaw table in a rally cry match, both tables in a jovial uproar of support for their teams. Ginny had beamed at Harry when he had sat down with Hermione. Lavender, who was practically sitting on Ron's lap, gave him and Hermione a glare before smiling sweetly back at Ron.

Like all the times before, there were plenty of people with their faces painted to either support Ravenclaw or Gryffindor and there was a sea of blue and silver to match the wave of scarlet and gold. The cheer around Harry did little to brighten his spirits. In spite of himself he took a glance at the Staff table and saw that Royle had once again painted both teams' flags on his face.

And Severus was there, sitting next to Royle but those black eyes did not find his own. Instead, Cho's eyes had when Harry had hurried his stare back to what was in front of him. She smiled at him and then had given him a wink. A slight prickling of heat met his cheeks and he gave her quick nod and he hadn't realized he had smiled back at her.

They would be fighting for the Golden Snitch in less than an hour's time and for some reason this thought had sparked a slight feeling of competitiveness within Harry; he could feel the energy of it in his muscles. Perhaps he was looking forward to the game; it would be a distraction from everything else he was facing.

After he had eaten a bit of jam on toast and an egg the Staff had led the students out to the grounds. Harry had caught up to Ron and the rest of the team as they headed off to the lockers to change. It was freezing out and the sky was looking dreary with gathering dark clouds. And Harry fleetingly thought it had to snow soon.

Harry changed quickly and in moments he found himself in line with his Gryffindor team mates facing Ravenclaw as Madame Hooch was calling out the countdown after she had released the Snitch. When the blow of the whistle struck his ears he had kicked off a long with everyone else and had begun to soar high into the air. The frigid winds only served to liven his senses further as he took in the sight of the stands below him and the jumble of their cheering voices and the whooshing noise of players on their broomsticks brought a warming sensation to his chest.

Because he didn't have to think much up here, he didn't have to worry over anything really but looking out for that flash of gold as if the blighting, miserable emotions could not reach him up here. He had begun to circle high above the pitch as the game was going on below him. Ron had already blocked two of Ravenclaw's attempts to score and Ginny had gotten the Quaffle in with a fierce shot against Ravenclaw's keeper.

Harry had spotted Cho, hovering much higher than him in the late autumn air. Her long black hair was in a high ponytail and he watched as the wind played with it. She looked elegant on her broom somehow. Her eyes, deeply auburn, had caught him staring and she gave him another wink and then she was diving gracefully as Ravenclaw had scored and Harry had to avoid a close call with a blundger.

As he turned his broom his vision had fallen upon the seats in the stands that the Staff occupied. Severus was there and seated next to him was Ms. Gardiner. And the bright colors of her clothing contrasted well against the man's dark attire. There was a small pang in Harry's heart and he let out a breath, his eyes narrowing as he was watching them. Ravenclaw had scored again and there was a burst of applause and cheers from their section of the stands.

Players zoomed along below him, Katie was gliding next to Ginny as they headed towards Ravenclaw's keeper, he could see the glow of her red hair…

And his eyes found Cho again and Harry's broom was still as if he was perched in the air like a bird. He flew closer to her as he watched her eyes darting about the pitch, looking for that tricky golden ball. He rose a few feet more, his eyes glancing this way and that, wondering how long it would before the Snitch would make its first appearance.

He looked over at the Staff again and surprisingly Severus's eyes were on him. Harry's fingertips felt numb because of the striking cold and his cheeks were red from it as well. He took in the smell of the fresh, icy air and it was nothing like the scent of summer. His eyes went back to Cho or where she had been because she was gone now.

Before he could worry over it he felt a tap on his right shoulder and he quickly looked up to find the Ravenclaw Seeker flying above him, upside down. The faint feeling of surprise made him grin up at her as she twirled gracefully up through the air and then she was flying to the other side of the pitch.

Gryffindor scored.

Harry could barely hear the sound coming from the commentator's box as he had zoomed over to where Cho was. Was she trying to distract him? Well, two could play at that game, Harry had thought and he had easily done a loop da loop around the girl.

She smiled softly, looking down upon him as he was hovering below her, his right foot loose from his Firebolt's pedal, and the wind was picking up the backs of their jerseys. In the next moment she had taken a nose dive down and Harry had followed her and as the game carried on below. Harry had raced her around the pitch, their brooms sprinting against one another.

Harry wasn't aware of the many eyes that were upon them, watching just how they were distracting one another. But his heart felt feathery and his shoulders light and the day surrounding him seemed brighter to his eyes and Cho's cheeks were rosy and she was laughing at him as Harry was flying circles around her as his broom was upright, only supporting himself on its foot pedals.

And then he had hung upside down on his broom like she had done and her flirty gaze upon him had made him laugh for a reason he did not care for at the moment. Gryffindor was winning by only ten points. He and Cho had dodged one of Jimmy Peakes' misaimed blundgers together and had laughed at the boy's fast call of apology.

They were hovering in the chilly air together, close and watching the game take place underneath them and the Snitch was nowhere in sight. Harry could smell Cho's perfume as it had been taken by the wind; roses and vanilla sugar. He didn't know what he felt next to her but it was better than that driving desolation that he couldn't overcome...

There was a flash of gold in the center of the pitch and Harry had noticed it first. The golden ball was rising rapidly from the middle of the field and soaring into the air. Harry was quick to follow and Cho rushed to be behind them. In a whirl of seconds Harry found himself sky-scraping through the air, higher and higher as the wind rushed against his skin and he and Cho were battling for leverage as they spiraled through the sky, up and up, spinning against the great gust of winds.

Their right hands had reached out simultaneously as they were shoulder to shoulder, vertical on their brooms but in the stretch of the last second Harry had pushed forward with all he was worth and the next thing he knew the Snitch was clasped in his numb and stinging hand.

Harry and Cho had halted their brooms and they were both out of breath, their faces wind burned. They stayed in the air, mere dots to the audience below. Cho did not look disappointed; instead she was smiling at him, her brown eyes distinguished by all the gray around them. His own eyes stood out drastically against his reddened cheeks and pale face. They were both shivering.

There was pandemonium below them as the stands trembled with the stomping of feet and Harry heard the blaring cries of their rewarding praise winning over the boos from Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

And as they descended Harry's small revelry within him was fading out fast. Whatever sort of high his senses had been blundered with by Cho was gone and so came the hurried realization of what he had been doing in front of hundreds of onlookers, in front of Ms. Gardiner, in front of Hermione and Ron, in front of Severus…And he couldn't label it as good fun and he hadn't been caught up in a moment…

He knew exactly what it had been and right then and there as his feet had touched ground after he had dismounted his broom he wondered if he really was losing his mind. He ignored the crowd that had gathered around Gryffindor and walked in a daze forward. He had been trying to make Severus jealous; he knew that, shamefully, he knew that. But he had done it anyway and he had enjoyed it and knowing such a thing made him feel wretched, made him feel evil.

He hardly heard his team's comments on his performance that morning and had showered and changed back into his clothes slowly. Ron was next to him but he could tell the boy was nervous to question Harry. He felt embarrassed and foolish and so unlike himself.

What was happening to him? Why would he intentionally try to make Severus jealous? Did Severus even care? Or had he made himself look like an idiot in front of the whole school for nothing? He was losing his mind, definitely.

There was another party in the Gryffindor common room and drinks and food had been passed around but Harry had wanted to be alone with his harassing thoughts so he headed up to the boys dormitory. He laid in bed for a long time trying not to think of what was going on in Cho's head or Hermione's or Severus's. His muscles ached and he felt hungry.

He had slept fretfully in the warmth of his bed and before long it was dinnertime and he joined his fellow Gryffindors who were all gleeful, the feeling of victory still strong amongst them. A few of them patted Harry's back, giving him more praise and he had caught the glares of many girls as he walked down the flights of stairs to the Great Hall, especially Romilda Vane's.

Harry had eaten, keeping his eyes on his plate to avoid Cho and avoid meeting the eyes of those who were whispering about him and Cho. At exactly 7 he had gone back to the common room with Hermione who hadn't said a word to him since that morning.

He worked on homework with her although he did little to actually pay attention to it. He could hear Lavender giggling in a corner where she sat with Ron on an armchair. When it was 15 minutes till 8 Harry had put his things away, leaving his bag upon his chair and had given Hermione a quick farewell.

When he had just stepped out of the portrait hole, Hermione had jumped out with him, grabbing his upper arm to stop him from leaving.

"Harry," Hermione said and there was worry in her eyes, her voice was slightly strained.

"I know what you're going to say and I don't know what I was doing," Harry signed quickly. "You know who I'm in love with and it's not Cho…so…I don't feel like talking about it right now…"

And she had been about to say something but her lips fell shut and she only stood there before him, looking down at the stoned ground.

"Ron…You know he…doesn't love her…" Harry signed and it had been automatic, his expression heartrending.

Hermione had held her hands together before her, looking at him with half her face in shadow.

"He doesn't…" he had signed, shaking his head. He waited for only a second before turning around and heading down the corridor.

It was a minute past 8 when he had arrived in front of the Defense classroom and the door was open so he let himself in. Professor Royle was seated at his desk chewing his gum absentmindedly as he was reading from their textbook. He wore no robes but a white dress shirt, a dark gray vest with black shined buttons, and black slacks. The man was leaning on his right elbow that was propped on the desk as his hand was in his light brown hair.

As soon as the door shut behind Harry, Royle's gray eyes had looked up and he closed the book.

"Potter, good evening," Royle greeted him.

Harry gave the man a nod.

"There's a cloud of misery above your head," Royle commented as he had gotten to his feet.

Harry walked over to the man's desk feeling a bit of apprehension overtake him.

"Why so glum, Potter?" Royle asked.

Harry gave the man a shrug.

"Well, I have to say, jinxing another student, no matter if it was Malfoy, for no reason and in front of Snape no less…it isn't like you," the man said.

Harry did not respond.

"You don't have to tell me, it's not really any of my business," Royle said and he leaned against the desk. "I don't really know what I should make you do however…"

"What do you usually do on Saturday nights?" Harry signed and he hadn't realized it was a personal question until after he had asked it.

"I'm usually bored out of my mind patrolling the corridors," Royle answered dully.

Harry smirked at this.

"I suppose you could help grade some papers, pull up a chair," Royle said.

After an hour Harry was finished with grading papers which he had done without the help of Royle who had immersed his attention into the new issue of _Witch Weekly_. Harry sat there at the side of the man's desk feeling quite bored.

He had eaten a chocolate from the bag of sweets upon the man's rather empty desk and that's when he had noticed the small black picture frame only inches away from his left hand. He had never seen that before on the man's desk. Without asking he scooted the picture frame around with the tip of his index finger.

He wasn't surprised that it was a picture of Ms. Gardiner though it did not move. In the background, as beautiful as anything he had seen before, were blossoming cherry trees and in the center of the photograph Ms. Gardiner stood, her hands behind her back. She wore a white summer dress, her hair up, and she was smiling in a way he had never seen her smile, a special smile meant solely for one other person. She looked much younger however, Harry's age even…

"It's her favorite place."

Royle's voice had made his heart jump and his face reddened with embarrassment.

"Sorry," Harry signed.

"How have your sessions been with her?" he asked, ignoring Harry's apology and placing down the magazine.

Harry could pretend that the man's question could have been in place of what he wanted to ask: "How has she been?" Harry gave Royle another small shrug not having any desire to think of what had happened in his last session with Ms. Gardiner. Everything he had been doing this past month was making him feel so low, maybe this was what hitting rock bottom felt like.

"I can't understand her…" Harry signed slowly, keeping his eyes on the picture frame. "But it's like she knows me so well…"

"I know," Royle said almost too quietly. "I felt the same for a long time…"

Harry looked up to see the man sitting there, his gaze upon nothing in the room.

"What…" Harry began to sign but he hesitated. "What do you…mean?"

And so abruptly did the room start to feel colder to Harry and out of an idle, silent atmosphere did tension spring up and their short conversation felt like it had grown somber. It was the distant, old, sorrowing look in Royle's eyes. What memories were playing back and forth behind them? Harry couldn't help but feel curious, he had to know; he had to know of the mystery between Royle and Ms. Gardiner…

But Royle shook his head lightly.

"It's nothing of importance," the man said.

Harry stared at him and Royle's eyes met the intensity of it. Something was happening, something measured and dark was coming upon the night amongst them, filtering through the room, sneaking in and hanging over their heads and he felt as if it had been meant, intended. He had begun to shiver. Because he knew there was something in the man's past, something dreadful and the only reason they were connected with one another was because of her…

"I really can't…I shouldn't tell you," Royle said after a long moment. "It isn't right…"

"Do you prefer just waiting then?" Harry signed before he could stop himself. "Waiting until it's too late?"

Royle had looked down, his right hand upon the wood of the desk. The look in his eyes was heavy, darker.

"Two years ago I was one of her patients," the man said faintly.

And there was silence again and Harry wondered if he really should pressure the man to tell him more, he wanted to know, he felt obligated somehow…

"Why? What happened?" Harry asked in sign.

Royle leaned back in his chair and his gray eyes fell onto Harry's.

"Voldemort has been tearing families apart for years…" Royle said and his tone of voice was lowered, slightly raspy. "He ruined mine, completely." The man let out a soft breath, closing his eyes for many seconds before opening them. "My father was a powerful wizard. His family forms a very long line of purebloods but that line was cut because of him. He fell in love with a muggle and he married her, my mother and was cast out from the rest of the family because of it, they were strictly prejudice and surprised at how their ideals did not sink into to my father's own. But he wasn't afraid of them, his path was very clear."

"The two of them lived a very happy life; they had two sons, my brother and me. However, this was during Voldemort's growing supremacy and my father was high on the list of those Voldemort wished to recruit. When I was eight years old, only months before he murdered your mother and father that night, he came to my father's home…"

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest as he listened to Royle's story and he didn't want to presume what had happened next…

"My father refused to join him and they dueled but my father lost and he was killed in front of my mother and my brother and I…" Professor Royle's voice was steady and it was the only sound in the Defense classroom.

Harry sat unmoving, his body leaning forward, his hands on his knees, his fingertips holding onto the ends of his jumper's sleeves…

"And he left us with such a memory, telling us that our family was a disgrace to the name of Wizard…" he continued gently and his stare was strong upon Harry even through the aged and dead sorrow; it was an unyielding gaze. "My mother was devastated and my father had not known that she was three weeks along with another baby…"

Harry's eyes grew dismayed as the man said these words.

"Back then I knew she only continued to live for her children and it was a constant struggle but we were wealthy…" Royle said. "I had felt angry of course and there were things I regretted never saying to my father…Years later I met Sophia here at Hogwarts and she changed the way I dealt with the world…I fell in love with her straightforwardly…and she was tough to get to know…but she let me in after a while…and when we graduated I asked for her to marry me…She refused, she said we were too young…and she had to take care of her sister, Emily…she was only eleven at the time…I didn't understand why she had said no…I wouldn't have gotten between them…But we went our separate ways and I didn't see her for a while…"

Royle had paused, casting his eyes down upon his hands that were on his lap. Harry briefly thought he must have thrown out his chewing gum while he had been grading papers…

A minute past and Royle had not continued and his expression was tight, his brow almost furrowed, and his eyes had become vaguely aggrieved.

"I studied to become an Auror but even though I passed all the requirements I couldn't make myself turn into one…The only place I wanted to be was with Sophia…I thought it was inevitable…And then Voldemort returned to power…"

Harry felt a striking shiver go up his spine; his heart was heavy and racing…

"My brother became a Death Eater…" Royle had sounded as if he had to force the words out. "I had always felt he had held some sort of grudge against my father for marrying a muggle…for tainting his blood with hers…He was so different than me…but he kept such thoughts hidden from my mother, only exposing his true self to his circle of Slytherins…I had tried to change him…to help him…but there was no bending his bigotry…When he joined Voldemort…it shattered my mother's already broken heart…she couldn't understand it…and I was ashamed that I couldn't stop it…There was no way for her to cope…I could understand that…to some degree…I couldn't help her…I couldn't make her happy no matter what I did…"

Royle's gray eyes moved back and forth.

"I came home…days later…and I found that…ah…" Royle's voice had lost its volume and Harry fought against himself to keep listening. The man swallowed hard, keeping his stare away from Harry's eyes.

"She had drowned my little brother…and she had hung herself…" The words were quick and overwrought.

Harry's breath had been caught and his chest had felt like someone had stepped on it.

"His name was Noah…he was eleven…small for his age…" the man's voice was barely more than a ghost of a whisper.

Royle had cleared his throat and Harry had averted his eyes to his lap, staring so hard he was almost glaring at it.

"All at once I thought my life was destroyed…I felt like I had lost everything…" Royle said quietly and painfully. "I wanted to die…but I looked for her…as if I deserved to be saved somehow…and I found out she was a therapist at St. Mungo's…" Royle held his hands together. "She was happy to see me…relieved…and she had did her best to help me…But I still loved her…after everything…and I believed that she would never love me like she used to…she would never want to be with me…I doubted everything…I was weak…"

Harry had realized he had been holding his breath and he took a shaky inhale; his head hurt.

"She lives to help others…and yet…one night…I tried to kill myself…but she stopped me," the man said and there was an old ache in his tired words. "I had hurt her deeply…I had failed her because she thought she had failed me…I couldn't stand what I did to her, I couldn't face the look in her eyes…So I left…and there was no way that she could find me…I was afraid for a long time…"

And Royle had stopped speaking and the room had been chained to a heavy silence as Harry waited. There were tears in his eyes but there were no words or real feelings that he could find in that moment.

"I'm sorry…" Royle had muttered. "I don't know why I told you…"

Harry shook his head once, numbly. He looked up to see the man's face. Royle was only 23 and Harry wondered where in that face was all that heartache and unbearable grief? Was the man's past really so horrific? And it seemed too much for the young man that Royle was and now Harry could understand why he had tried to take his own life, he had just wanted the deranged suffering to end...

But he didn't know what to feel except remorseful and he had questions that he could never ask. How did Royle manage to smile at them all week after week? To be so lively and open and real in front of them all? He had made them all laugh, made them all care about things that Umbridge had tried to destroy, had wanted to give them the protection they would need in their future…How could he find the energy to care at all?

How could he have dealt with such things in his own life? A life of dark tragedy? Royle's life, to him, seemed to be the work of nightmarish stories.

And he couldn't even begin to understand what sort of strength one would need to live through it all. The problems he had now could barely compare to what Royle had already faced and still the man in front of him was alive, full of life and still searching and in wait of the woman he loved, the woman who could bring back whatever happiness they had had together in the past, could resurrect his trodden heart…

It felt unreal to Harry and the actual feeling was what he had felt when he had discovered what had happened to Neville's parents but ten times over. Once again he was very conscious to the fact that Voldemort had not just put tragedy in his life but to thousands and it was still happening…Whose mother and father was he murdering right now? In that second Harry could fathom the great evils that existed in the world but he could not understand why it happened…

"It's over...it's been over for a while now…" Royle said silently. "She tried to tell me that I deserved to move on…to be happy…" Harry could not look away from Royle's obstinate stare. "I want to find that with her…Things are different now…I can face her now…"

Harry's vision was shaky and his body was trembling softly. It was hard to breathe, hard to think. He hadn't been ready to hear Royle's story, perhaps he wasn't old enough, brave enough…

"I'm sorry again…Harry…I really can't talk to anyone else here…" Royle said.

"No…It's fine…" Harry signed clumsily; he could barely feel his hands. "I have a problem…with trying to help people too much anyway…" And he bit his lip, trying not to confess what he was guilty for. "I got angry with her…I don't know why...I said she was cruel…for not talking to you…I told her she was too busy helping others that she doesn't notice that she can't help herself…"

"She never asks for help…" Royle said lightly.

"I think she's afraid…of love…" Harry signed. "But I think you should try harder…"

"I have no intention of giving up," Royle replied and his gray eyes looked lambent.

The tension in the room was seeping out through the cracks and Harry had tried to discreetly wipe his wet eyes with his sleeve though it was difficult to manage because his glasses were in the way. Royle had sat up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat again, and piled up the already piled essays that Harry had graded. It had grown awfully quiet. Royle's story was still fresh in his mind, living loudly in his thoughts but he still could not make a remark. He was horrible with words and Royle wasn't the kind of man who went around looking for others to comfort him…

"What about you, Potter?" Royle said, finally deflating the balloon of awkward silence.

"What?" Harry signed.

"You in love?" he continued. "The whole school did see you two up there…you look good together…"

Harry shook his head so quickly it made it hurt even more.

"No, I'm not in love with her…I was just…making her lose focus on the match…" Harry signed nervously, hating the building heat in his cheeks.

"That's not what it looked like…" Royle said with a smirk.

Harry put his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands.

Royle let out a short laugh.

"If you are," Harry heard him say, "don't let them get away from you."

Harry had spent another hour or so with Professor Royle as the man had brought out more papers that he had "neglected" to grade and when it was well past curfew Harry had left the man's office with unfeeling legs and a weary heart.

He was walking without really paying attention to where he was going through the shadowy corridors of the castle. He felt exhausted.

And he hadn't expected to see Severus in front of him, the glowing light of his wand jumping up and down with the man's quick strides. Severus had just rounded the corner in front of Harry. Harry stopped in his tracks; his heart had given a jolt against his ribcage. Severus had come to a halt as well and his black eyes traveled up and down Harry's body.

"…Potter…" Severus muttered.

He felt powerful in this moment, or his emotions did as they shivered over his skin. Harry glared at the man intensely.

"_Harry,_" he mouthed his name mutely, leaving his hands at his sides.

Severus narrowed his eyes down at Harry.

"I will walk you to your dorm," Severus said in a hushed tone.

"I can manage," Harry signed quickly and he had side stepped the man, hurrying past him.

But a strong hand was swift to grab his upper left arm and before Harry could challenge it he was pulled into the long dark corridor next to them. Harry could barely see anything for Severus's wand light was dim and pointed down at the floor.

In this darkness he was shoved against the stoned wall. Harry let out a gasp in the cold air around him. Severus had come close to him. He felt those strong hands rush up against his torso, pressing harshly upon chest. In an instant his nose was filled with the scent of the man's cologne and then hot lips were crushing his own freezing ones.

He had shut his eyes tightly and all he could see was white. His mind had gone remarkably blank. He couldn't tell if this moment was real or a dream as if such lines were so fine when compared. He could only hear the sound of those hands roaming over his clothes, his body and they had gone everywhere, revealing his skin for split seconds before they had retreated to hold the sides of his face. His cheeks were burning, his ears were aflame, and his lips were moistened and growing warm against the man's own, and they were moving so vigorously, with passionate desperation.

Harry's fogging brain was somewhat aware that Severus's tongue was inside his mouth, his own tongue paralyzed as his body was shivering madly, his knees had gone weak, all that he was felt weak but those hands continued to feel him; over the back of his neck, his shoulder blades, his hips…Such heated electrical sparks were bounding all across his body and he was obedient to it. His heart felt as if it were vibrating like a violin cord in his chest.

These shadowed seconds could have been hours, he felt like he had stayed against that hard wall for hours and fleeting reflections had leapt up in his head, things he would regret, memories he had yet to create, lovely, spontaneous, could be, should be days, fantasies blurred in sunshine, sweet reveries surrounded by snowy paths crystallized by the dawn, and they were innocent and cherished, deeply intimate…but they were floating away, up above their bodies, dispersing in the gloom.

His senses were panicking and he couldn't breathe; his face was on fire and his heart was being strangled.

Severus had come away so quickly that it had scared Harry. He could hear the man's uneven breaths much like his own and they filled the silent corridor. From the feeble light of the man's wand Harry could see that Severus had his head bowed. Harry's body was still pressed against the wall, his palms flat against it; perspiration had reached the collar of his neck.

Harry's heart had felt everything that had been in that sudden kiss; the man still wanted him, still felt that magnetic attraction, still cared for him…He felt his eyes burn with tears. He was scared that the man would walk away from him again.

He reached out to grab Severus's hand but the man had moved away.

"Stop…" he hissed out. He sounded angry.

"Look at me," Harry signed as he had taken a step forward to try to meet the man's eyes.

Severus's eyes, in the dark, reminded him of vacant night skies where the moon above was just a cut in that black. They were looking at him and they looked wounded, flickering with clashing emotions…

"I am sorry…" Severus whispered tensely.

Harry shook his head. He was still trembling. He felt anxious. He could tell the man here and now, could say those words, heave them from his heart…

"I don't care…" Harry signed. "Please understand…I forgive you, alright? I forgive you. It's the past, it doesn't matter to me, it doesn't matter to us…If you want to talk about it we can…If you don't we don't ever have to mention it again…but I _forgive _you."

Severus's jaw was clenched.

"You cannot forgive me so easily…" Severus whispered.

"It's been a whole month…" Harry signed, his face in anguish.

"I have lived with it for fifteen years and I still am not capable—"

"Let it come with my forgiveness then…I can speak for them…"

"No…You are too young…I am too dangerous…a future between us is inconceivable," the man said quietly and the words were rushed.

"Don't start with that again, I can't stand it," Harry signed forcefully and the fury was rising in his chest.

"I am responsible for it!" Severus snapped in his low voice. "If your life is ruined because of me I…" Severus's hands had clenched into fists. "I could not bear it…"

"I don't understand why you're pushing me away, you're driving me insane—" Harry had signed.

"How do you think I feel!?" Severus bit out but his voice still remained a shushing whisper.

"Tell me then!" Harry signed.

"Your words are very contradictory to your actions this morning with that Chang girl, showing off—"

And the temperature in his face grew. He felt like kicking something.

"Since when have you been so cozy next to Ms. Gardiner!?"

Harry had not meant to sign those words but they had come from some bitter part of his brain…

"What has she told you…?"

"Nothing, I saw you with her in the Hospital Wing, I was going to see if you were alright…She brought you flowers!" Harry signed and felt embarrassed and beside himself at the same time. "What are you doing with her?" God, what was wrong with him?

"It doesn't concern you—"

"When will you get it through that head of yours? I _want _to be with you," Harry signed, glowering up at the man. "That won't change. How long do I have to wait for you to see that?"

The man did not reply for an exasperating, soundless moment…

"I can't—"

"You were afraid to tell me about my mother and father…" Harry signed quickly. "But secrets don't have to tear us apart; I want to know you, all of you…Why can't you give me that chance?"

Harry's heart was shuddering in his chest and his skin felt icy but there was still heat attached to his lips from their kissing, still warmth in his cheeks…

"Harry…"

"Am I not worth that? After everything—" Harry was signing with shaking hands.

Severus's eyes had softened and there was great torment in them.

"It isn't right for me to take such a place beside you…I do not deserve you…" the man's hushed voice had quivered.

"You're just lying to yourself…What are you so afraid of?" Harry signed. "We can be together…I would never take advantage of you…"

"You will find someone far better—"

"I can't…They don't exist…" Harry had mouthed the words and his hands had come forward, grabbing the man's coat, feeling the familiar touch of fabric… "Please…stop saying things like this to me…"

"Harry…"

Harry's hands had come away from Severus.

"You're spinning me around again…kissing me like that…and then denying how you really feel…" Harry signed. "It's not fair…and it's maddening…I can't stand it…"

"I have other things that I have kept from you…" Severus's voice was barely audible.

"Then tell me—"

"I can't…not now…"

"Then how long? How long do you want this to last? How long will you keep making me feel like this?" Harry signed and his vision had blurred for the tears that had overflowed in his eyes.

"I am sorry—" Severus started.

"What if I did love someone? What if I wanted to be with them?" Harry signed tensely. "What would you do?"

"I would let you go…Your happiness means more to me—"

"What about you? Your happiness?" Harry signed.

"It does not compare—"

"You'd just give up?" Harry said the words noiselessly. His body was shivering uncontrollably now and his heart felt tiny and feeble.

Severus's black eyes stayed locked with his own hopeless stare.

"You're so cruel to yourself…" Harry could hear the words spoken in his head as he signed them and he did not know what to feel anymore in the darkness of that corridor. Would he only live for those small blissful seconds that the man was capable of giving him? Would he settle for that? How long could he keep it up?

"I will take you back to your dorm…" was all the man said after many seconds had past.

And they left the corridor together and Harry walked with deadened legs a few feet behind Severus. His mind was drifting along his thoughts. He hadn't been able to tell the man still and he was running out of reasons why he couldn't, why he shouldn't. Why was it so difficult? Why did it feel like he was hanging on to those words for dear life?

When they had stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady who was sleeping Harry had signed without looking at the man:

"Why did you tell me that day? Why did you tell me how you felt if it was just going to turn out like this?"

"Would you have preferred my silence?" Severus whispered almost tonelessly.

"It's starting to feel like that…" Harry signed, lifting his eyes to stare into those bottomless wells of ink…

Severus spoke the password and then he was gone.

* * *

**APPARITION LESSONS **

**If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31****st**** of August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic instructor. Please sign below if you would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons. The first lesson will take place Monday, December 2****nd****. **

Harry stood beside Ron as they read the large sign that had been pinned to the common room notice boards overnight. In front of them was the small crowd of Gryffindors that were jostling around the notice and taking it in turns to write their names at the bottom. After Hermione had signed her name Harry had come to the front with his fountain pen and he scribbled his name down quickly.

Ron was just about to step up with his quill at the ready but Lavender had crept up behind him and slipped her hands over his eyes. Harry cringed as the girl chirped "Guess who, Won-Won?"

Harry went off to follow Hermione who was heading toward the portrait opening. He did not want to stick around to witness any more of Lavender's cooing. However, after a moment Ron was at his side again as he was out in the corridor. His ears were bright red and he looked annoyed. Harry saw Hermione hurry along ahead of him to walk with Neville and Parvarti.

"So—Apparition," Ron muttered. "You're used to it, right?"

Harry shrugged. He couldn't exactly say he was used to the feeling of being squeezed into a little ball and then being twirled like a top making his brain feel like it was in his stomach and all the while he'd be waiting until his feet found some sort of solid ground again. But the knowledge that in a blink of an eye he could go anywhere in the world…it seemed like a hopeful prospect.

"Should be easy for you to do, you're small enough," Ron joked.

Harry gave the boy a playful punch to the arm.

It was Sunday morning, December 1st and when Harry had woken up that morning his window was covered in ice. He was sure it would snow today. But that morning Harry's body was feeling as weightless as the wind. His emotions felt frail and splintered like a broken kite. He was done with sacrificing his heart for things that never worked out. The road ahead was blocked but he didn't know if he had the strength to look back.

When he and Ron arrived at breakfast that morning he could hear the excitement that was mixed chatter about both the ball and tomorrow's Apparition lesson. Harry had bundled up that day because he had wanted to either visit Hagrid or go for a long walk on the grounds. He wore his black wool coat, the dark navy blue jumper that Mrs. Weasley had made him for his birthday, jeans, and his black trainers.

He saw many other students who were wearing their scarves, jackets, coats, and gloves as they were prepared to face the harsh cold outside. Many were hoping for the lake to freeze over so they could have a go at ice skating and it being the start of December there was much talk of the holidays.

Harry's mood, despite the upcoming celebrations, was downtrodden. He had kept replaying the night before in his head and how Severus had kissed him; that kiss alone had made it almost impossible for him to sleep. He had told the man he hadn't cared but in all realness he couldn't believe Severus had done such a thing to him to just put that distance between them right after.

And he was furious with himself because he had an open window to tell the man how he felt and he had backed out. What had happened to his strong will? His courage? They had been blow away into the heavens with that damned kiss…

Harry stared miserably at the floating cereal bits in his bowl and his appetite was all but gone. He could feel Romilda glaring at him only a few seats away and it brought an uncomfortable shiver over his neck. His eyes found Hermione who was seated next to Neville as she was helping the boy study for their end of term exams...

"Harry…"

The soft voice to his right made him jerk his attention away from the two Gryffindors. It was Cho who was at his side, standing and looking down upon him with a small smile. She wore a dark green scarf over her long white winter coat with black leggings and short black boots.

"Hi," Harry raised his hand awkwardly. He felt the quick heat rise to his cheeks. He felt like an idiot still…

"I was wondering…if you were done with breakfast that is...if you would like to take a walk with me?" she said.

Harry hesitated for only a moment. He could tell that many students were staring at the two of them however discretely; the loud chatter around them had dropped a few decibels.

"Sure…" Harry nodded and he got up from his seat. He saw Hermione's eyes take a glance over them both and then retreat back to her Charms book. Ginny's eyes were on him, worried and confused.

Harry didn't want to do it but as he walked behind Cho to the large open doors he turned his head and saw Severus whose black eyes were watching him. He faced forward hastily. His thoughts were leapfrogging over each other in his mind. And he thought, callously, that maybe Severus needed some kind of provocation. Wasn't that how he usually got Harry to comply with him? All those days ago when things were different, when Severus had actually made him smile...

When they walked out of the big oak doors of the castle Harry's nose was hit with the smell of pine and the great chill in the air. It made them both shiver. Harry put his hands in his pockets as he fell in a slow stride next to Cho. Her hair looked shiny and she had put it in a braid. There was a clip in her hair, a crystal-looking small black rose and it pulled her bangs to the side.

"It was fun…yesterday," Cho said quietly as she walked.

Harry nodded. His cheeks were already red with cold.

As they walked Harry had received a gentle feeling of nostalgia. He could remember easily how it had felt when he had liked Cho, when she had been his crush for almost two years, how his heart back then had felt around her, how embarrassingly empty his mind would get when he had tried to speak with her.

How things in his life could change so drastically astounded him still…

Harry smiled at the old memories. He had thought over that kiss he had had with her, sensual and timid, he had been so unsure, so clumsy…

And walking next to her was nice but it was just as nice as walking next to any of his friends and this saddened him, made him feel such guilt…

They had walked side by side all the way to the Black Lake. Its waters were still and peaceful. The setting around them was almost as mute as the old black and white film he had seen long ago when he was in primary school...

He could tell Cho was nervous as they were standing there and then she had faced him and Harry's heart had an ache in it that wouldn't disappear. His hands were at his sides and her hand, warm and so very soft, had taken his right.

Her lipstick was very light, there was a kind blush over her cheeks, and her brown eyes were illuminated by the wintery feel that surrounded them both. She was pretty, she was nice, she had matured with a strength about her that reminded him of flowers that grew in snow…

"Harry…" she said with softness and she had blinked once and Harry didn't know how to feel in this moment.

And he had prayed that she wouldn't ask him, that she would lose her nerve and they would walk back into that castle as friends…

"I know our relationship before was…well it felt rushed…" Cho said. "But I still really like you Harry…you're so kind…and…you're different…and well…um…I really…just…"

Harry could see the puffs of white her words created in the air and he was holding his own breath.

"We can try again…if you'd like…" Cho said.

She had let his hand go.

"I want to be your girlfriend…"

And right between them the small pure white flake had fallen, journeying gracefully down to the earth. Harry had let out a short breath and looked up at the shadowed gray clouds in the sky. It had started to snow. Already there were thousands of dancing tiny flakes falling up above.

Something felt empty inside of him. His heart perhaps. And he thought of all the things he had done up until now, he thought of Sirius, he thought of Severus and how much he wished he could be sharing a moment like this, something silly, romantic, with the man.

And that beach was looking ever so hazy in his mind, distorted and incomplete. His heart was torn. There were dreams that he had kept, hopes and such reveries that should have felt so unreachable when those lips that had tasted of sweetness and salt had met his for the first time but they had not, they had seemed real, promising, they had been the only thing worth dreaming for…

How could he betray such a thing?

He felt like crying. Like running.

He was cruel.

"Ok…" Harry had nodded, his hands were trembling. "I'd like that…"

Cho smiled brightly at him and her eyes had filled with delight.

He felt horrible and all he could think as the snow fell slowly was perhaps this would make Severus overcome his doubts, that this would be enough to open the man's eyes, to make him face what he feared the most. Even if it wasn't real.

* * *

A/N: Ok. I know it has been a while since Harry and Severus have been together but there are still bumps in the road that need fixing. I hope this chapter wasn't boring. But it is slowly progressing into the bigger picture, I promise. I am sorry for the angst, it will get better.

Also, I hope no one is mad over Cho and especially Harry (but I believe loving Severus has made him a bit mad and a bit evil) but they will not be together for long so no worries there. In fact, in the next chapter I think everyone will be happy with the ending of it. : )

Please review if you have the time, good or bad I really want to know what you think. What did you think of Royle's story? Of Ms. Gardiner and Snape? I would like to know.

I have already begun to write the next chapter and it will not take me a month to have it up, I am hoping at most two weeks but if I am fast and not busy I could have it done in a week and a half.

To come in the next chapter: Apparition, Malfoy, Horcruxes, another funeral, Hogsmeade and Severus mans up.

Comments, questions, concerns, complaints? Don't hesitate to PM me.

Once again, I hope the readers are looking forward to the next chapter, I know this one wasn't the greatest.

I apologize for any errors I may have missed.

I hope everyone is doing well in this fine month of February.


	37. Chapter 36: Stay

**I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. **

**Warning: This chapter contains M/M. Don't like it, don't read it. Thank you. **

I am sorry this chapter wasn't ready in time for my initial date; it was much longer than I had anticipated. I want to thank everyone for your wonderful reviews on the last chapter, they made me so happy. (To the reviewer who had their guest name as "God damn it Cho", you made me laugh for quite some time.)

To all my reviewers, thank you for your support, it means so much to me.

Thank you again and on with the story:

* * *

**Chapter 36: Stay**

It was like ivory.

That was what the world outside his window resembled that frosty morning. It had snowed the day before and all that night and the result was the castle grounds being covered with it. Foot upon foot of snow had blanketed the earth, the hilltops, the trees, gathering and collecting everywhere it could. The sky still held clouds of gray and the winds were frozen but mild.

And despite everything that was going on in his life Harry was glad to see it; to see the pearly shine of the snow's surface, glittering away so brightly, so fresh and new. It seemed so pure to his eyes, innocent and stunning. He had realized he hadn't smiled this way in a long time.

He was only disappointed that he could not sit there by the window for the rest of the day, enjoying the sight of it. No, he had to go out and face that world and the consequences of his unkind actions.

He had accepted Cho Chang as his girlfriend the day before and of course he was already regretting it. But he had been desperate to get Severus's attention, to push the man to him instead of away from him, to make the man come to his senses and to finally realize that Harry was waiting for him, that he needed him and would always need him, that Harry loved him…

But he knew this had to be the wrong way to go about it no matter if it had seemed like the only way to Harry. He felt like he had no other choice. Severus had done nothing but shove him towards those that he felt to be a better choice for Harry, someone who wouldn't "ruin" his future but Harry knew the man didn't actually believe, in his heart, that it was what he wanted for Harry. Severus had let doubt run wild over all that he once believed, maybe earlier than Harry had expected, maybe as early as he had.

He could still feel Severus's unreserved kiss upon his lips, how it had felt, so absolute, wonderful, and it was a feeling that he had craved these past nights, in his dreams and such vague hours spent thinking of the man.

He felt ashamed. Never did he think it possible that he would use someone's feelings for his own benefit; that he would ever play with someone's heart. It wasn't right but he was too determined to give up now and he didn't believe that Cho really liked him enough to fall in love; there was no true chemistry between them. Cho was the sort of girl who honestly belonged to a boy like Cedric Diggory had been while Harry knew what attracted him; someone who could take complete control over him, someone who could finally steal away his worries and lead himself for a change, someone strong and brutally honest, someone who could wrap such tantalizingly words around him like Christmas garland, someone who could bombard his brain with quick facts that he would have been oblivious to all his life, someone who intimidated the very worth of his soul, someone so darkly refined, so capable of spontaneity, a man, tall, ruggedly handsome, and someone who would always make up for his inadequacy, for all the admirable things that he lacked…

Harry had begun to daydream by that window and he shook himself from the mist that threatened to muddle his brain.

It had been a mistake to say yes to her but he had to make it work somehow and perhaps, in some psychotic, unstable part of his mind he had thought, with hopelessness and regret, that if it didn't work, if the man would somehow slip through his hands, if Severus himself had found happiness elsewhere, that at least he would have her, that he wouldn't be alone in the end possibly, that in such an unknown future he would have found someplace for her in his fractured heart…

Because she was kind and warmhearted and charming, the sort of girl that not many men deserved, and certainly he did not deserve her, a year ago possibly, but not now…If Harry would tell her the truth she most likely would come to hate him…

But she had a strong will, like Harry, and she would get over it.

And horribly, to Harry, it was a small price to pay to have Severus.

How could love make a person this crazy?

Harry rubbed his face, waking himself up and then he had gotten out of bed to shower and get ready along with the rest of his dorm mates. He changed into his uniform. That Monday would be their first Apparition lesson and because of this morning classes had been canceled that day and breakfast had been served in the dorms. Professor McGonagall had informed the Gryffindors who would be participating that morning in the Apparition lessons that it would be best to have a light breakfast.

Harry had taken her advice and had only eaten jam on toast and some fruit a long with Hermione and Ron who still hardly looked at one another. Harry was growing weary of their broken friendship and he missed the days where the three of them had hung around together and chatted about nonchalant things. Nevertheless he had decided to talk to Ron about Hermione sometime soon, especially since the ball was so close.

To make Harry feel worse Hermione had scarcely said a word to him since yesterday morning. As soon as she had found out that he had agreed to date Cho she had been furious with him. Harry had made an attempt to explain to Hermione what he was doing but of course she would not reason with him since he himself couldn't find a way to reason with his decision making skills at all. It was difficult to deal with. When Hermione was disappointed with him it was enough to feel physically pained by it. But he had hoped that she would understand in the end…

When it was almost 9 o'clock those who were taking Apparition lessons had headed down to the Great Hall. When Harry had entered through its doors he had found that the tables had disappeared. They all assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout as well as a small wizard that Harry took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colorless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and seemed very thin and weak, as though a gust of wind might blow him away.

He could see the white of the snow piled outside and he felt a longing to take a walk, to enjoy it, to build a snowman, to catch the small flakes in his hands, to let the purity of it fill his lungs, to fall upon that powder and rest his worn soul. Perhaps a blizzard would hit and he could walk out there in all that white and frozen wind and vanish along with all his worries, his own doubt, his fears and such dreams that many would whisper to him to forget about, to hide and reform his wayward self, to see how normal a boy like him could be…

Harry's whisked attention was brought back to the present when he heard Severus's voice a long with the rest of the Heads of Houses call for quiet for there had been a rise of muttering amongst the students.

His heartbeat sped when his eyes met the man's own. Severus's gaze was stabbing, those black eyes looking hostile and severe. And Harry thought that saying yes to Cho was already working on the man.

Cho Chang being Harry's girlfriend again was a main subject of gossip amongst the older students of Hogwarts and he hadn't been unaware of all the murmurs and glances that surrounded him. It was a bit daunting really because dementor attacks were on the rise and muggleborn witches and wizards were being hunted despite the Ministry's efforts and all his classmates were interested in was who Harry Potter was dating…

And all Harry could think about was having Severus…

It should have felt more shameful than it already did.

"Good morning," the Ministry wizard called to them all. "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests during these next few weeks. As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The Headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall and that you would be unwise to try. I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you."

Harry had started to move away as there was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. He heard McGonagall ordering about her Gryffindors along with Flitwick's squeaky voice to get his Ravenclaws into position. When Harry had found his spot he wasn't near Hermione or Ron who was forced to stand his five feet away from Lavender. Neville was next to him however and in front of him was Seamus who had turned around and gave Harry a grin.

When the crowd of students had been shuffled into semi-straight lines the Heads of Houses were standing near Twycross who was looking over them all.

"Thank you! Now then," Twycross said and he had taken out his wand and with a short wave old-fashioned wooden hoops had instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student.

Harry, along with practically everyone, looked down upon the hoops.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" Twycross announced. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!"

Harry, who had looked up as soon as the small wizard had started speaking again, had already found himself repeating the three D's in his head. He had made the decision that learning how to Apparate would be very important indeed. It would be the quickest escape route if he were in need of one. Now was not the time to be distracted with other roaming thoughts.

And perhaps the tiny need to impress Severus was also there but Harry would never admit it…

"Step one: Fix your mind upon the desired _destination_," Twycross continued enthusiastically. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."

Harry's eyes were set on the very center of his hoop. Luckily, he found it very it easy to throw out any bothersome thoughts that threatened to seep in to his mind. All that mattered to him in that moment was his wooden hoop.

"Step two," Twycross said, "focus on your _determination_ to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body!"

Despite his _determination_ Harry could not help it; he couldn't stop the grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth for he could hear the buzz of the room, the deep concentration happening around him and he had taken a glance at Hermione who looked almost like she despised the spot on the floor she was glowering at and Ron was red in the face as he was contemplating his hoop hard as if he were straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. He bit back a laugh.

"Step three," Twycross called, "and only when I give the command…Turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with _deliberation_! On my command, now…one—"

Harry flung his focus back onto the center of the hoop and he tried to feel weightless but he also felt his nerves take hostage of his body…

"—two—"

Harry felt the heat scale up from his cheeks to his ears…

"—Three!"

Harry spun on the spot, lost his balance, and fell over. It would have been humiliating if he was not the only one. The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering people; like himself, Neville was flat on his back and Seamus had wound up kicking his hoop, sending it skidding forward to have Ron step on it and slip allowing himself to join Harry and Neville on the floor…

Harry, along with Dean and Seamus, could not hold back their laughter; others around him had little self control as well. As he got to his feet he had looked over at Hermione who looked breathless and aggravated that she had not Apparated on the first try. Ron had come over, crimson faced, with Seamus's hoop, tossing it at the boy who caught it.

"Alright! Adjust your hoops!" Twycross called. "Back to your original positions."

The second attempt was no better than the first. The third was just as bad and Harry was starting to feel lightheaded. A half an hour went by and he was starting to feel Hermione's frustration. The girl looked anxious as she had put her hair up to keep it out of her way and Harry had shrugged off his robes, tossing them to his side. No one was laughing anymore; there were only groans of protest and huffs of anger. Ron looked about ready to snap his hoop in half. Harry had caught Draco Malfoy in his peripherals and was surprised that the boy, despite the light color of red in his complexion, was somehow looking calm. Harry's eyes narrowed in mistrust.

Another half an hour had gone away with the morning with no results. But just as Harry was beginning to wonder just how difficult Apparating was and how Severus had done when he was Harry's age the final attempt of the lesson had come and Harry concentrated with such conviction he felt a slight numbness in his fingertips and toes. His breathing was shallow, his face flushed and the room had gone deathly silent…

He had doubts; maybe he was too clumsy, maybe it didn't matter if he was on the short side…

Twycross had counted to three again…

In that split second as he kept the three D's stuck to his mind he had thought of the snow outside, he thought of Severus and the first time he had seen the man that past summer when the front door had opened, of what it had felt like to hold tightly to that strong arm, and how he wished in that moment to live that one summer over again…

With his eyes closed Harry had turned sharply on his heel and so abruptly did he feel that twisting, compressing, pinching sensation. The Hall had vanished for that stricken moment and he felt his feet leave the ground and all he had seen was a swirl of color and light. He heard the familiar echo of a loud crack and then his feet hit the floor and a swell of panic and dizziness came over his body as he opened his eyes.

He let out a shuddered breath and looked around in a slight daze. His fellow students were staring at him in surprise. Harry looked down and realized he was standing in the center of his hoop. He had done it, he had Apparated. The room still seemed to be spinning but he could see the awe in most of their faces and a few people looked disgruntled. His skin felt tingly. His eyes found Hermione whose expression was a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance and she crossed her arms.

But he had Apparated and he did not know why he felt happy about it but he did.

"Well done! Well done!" Twycross said excitedly. "And all in one piece! Well done!"

Harry was able to see that Professor McGonagall looked briefly proud and Severus, who stood next to her, looked rather uninterested…

"As for the rest of you, remember the three D's! _Des—" _

And everyone besides Harry had recited the man's mantra for him and all Twycross did was nod firmly with a smile.

"Till next week then!" he said as he fastened his cloak and waved his wand again so that all the hoops vanished. He left the Great Hall along with the Heads of Houses.

Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville had rushed over to Harry quickly and immediately began to ask Harry how he had done it.

"I just concentrated…that's all, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it easy…" Harry had begun to sign.

"You're the shortest one out of our group—" Ron had started only to earn a kick from Harry to the boy's shin.

They laughed as everyone began to cluster together in a crowd of conversation and Harry picked up his robes. He watched as Hermione had stalked out of the room faster than anyone and Harry inwardly sighed. Lavender had skipped over to them and had tugged at Ron's hand as she led him out to the entrance hall.

Before he could begin to think of a plan to get his two best friends together his right shoulder was shoved harshly and he had staggered forward.

"Watch it, Scarhead," Malfoy said with a smug smirk.

Harry grimaced as he heard Crabbe and Goyle scoff. He gave Malfoy a cold glare. There was something going on in that blond Slytherin's head that had Harry worrying…

"Harry."

Harry had been startled to find Cho just outside the Great Hall. She had been waiting for him. Her rosy glossed lips were in a small smile. Her hair was let down. Harry felt his face heat up and there was a sting of guilt in his chest.

"How did it go?" she asked kindly.

The next thing Harry knew he was walking at her side telling her how the Apparition lessons had gone. That was how yesterday had gone as well. They just talked and sometimes Cho would hold his hand or sit very close to him, almost leaning on him and to be honest it had felt odd to Harry, confusing almost but he had enjoyed the warmth she gave him.

They had gone to the library and had found a quiet corner desk for themselves and they had done their schoolwork and Harry had commented on how much work Cho had to do but she only laughed and said it wasn't too difficult.

And they just talked. It was all they did in each other's company and Harry knew, secretly, that it was all they would ever do. Of course there were moments where Cho would look at him for longer than usual and he would try to ignore the expectancy in her eyes, try to forget how her lips had felt that year ago and it had only been one year ago and that had settled a surprising feeling in the back of his mind, had him thinking of things he didn't want to remember, that he was too much of a coward to remember…

But Cho wouldn't say anything of it. She would just smile softly and look away and continue what she was doing or what she had been talking about.

She made him laugh however, truly. And she had made him smile. Because she was gentle and perhaps just as curious as he was. But one thing Harry was grateful for was that she was caring. She did not question about his title of the Chosen One, she did not bring up the Department of Mysteries and she did not ask about that night in Little Hangleton Graveyard, did not mention Cedric…

When the afternoon had come she had given him a hug and went off to class and he had been late to Potions and Severus had taken points and Harry had ignored the scowl on the man's face. All throughout class Severus had made it clear that he was in an foul mood and he had made that extra clear to Harry because by the time class was over Gryffindor had already lost a total of 50 points. When they were dismissed the man had swept from the room and into his office without a word.

Harry wondered if his plan was showing results because of the man's attitude and he wondered how long it would be before Severus gave in and accepted Harry's forgiveness and the plain truth that Harry wanted a future with him. Getting such a reaction from Severus did not stop him from feeling less horrible. What did Severus think of him now that he was spending time with Cho? Did he think it was real? Or was he aware that all Harry was trying to do was provoke him? That he was trying to be the one to intimidate?

And that night he had begun to wonder if it all really was hopeless and that he was too desperate to care at the moment; all he could think about was if his decisions he had made, once again, were most definitely the wrong ones.

* * *

"It should be green, a dark green."

"But I don't want to wear green, none of the other guys are wearing green, I'd like red…"

"Green is better! It matches my dress…"

"I'd prefer red—"

"My dress isn't _red_."

"But it'd be more Christmassy if it was red…"

"Fine! Fine! You could wear purple for all I care!"

Harry watched as Ginny pushed herself away from Gryffindor table, irritation written all over her features, and she hurried out of the Great Hall leaving Dean Thomas to shake his head and roll his eyes.

It was lunchtime that Tuesday, December 3rd, and the Fourth through Seventh Year students were in a bustle of energetic chatter throughout the Hall. Splayed over many parts of Gryffindor table before Harry were catalogs advertising anything and everything regarding dresses, gowns, shoes, tuxes, suits, and dress robes.

Ginny and Dean had been arguing over the color of Dean's vest and tie for the past ten minutes but Harry had a good guess that it wasn't the color of anything Dean wore that was making her so upset. He had caught Ginny giving Cho dark looks since that Sunday morning. He really only felt remorseful for Dean to be honest…

"Why do girls have to be so complicated?" Dean asked Seamus as the boy was flipping through pages of the different styles of suits.

Seamus gave the boy a shrug. Harry could tell that Seamus had been in a good mood since Defense class because he had asked Padma Patil to be his date for the ball and she had accepted happily. Everywhere Harry looked he could see many couples branched off from groups of their peers. Love really was in the air…

Harry scowled.

He had not yet chosen what he wanted to wear to the ball because truthfully he didn't care. It wasn't anything he was looking forward to. Professor McGonagall had gathered all the Gryffindors in the common room yesterday before dinner to inform everyone that the dance would take place on December 20th, the day before Christmas break, and it would start at 6:30 in the evening and last till midnight.

Harry was just thankful he would not have to open the ball by dancing with Parvarti in front of everyone again…He had cringed as he had remembered how that had been.

In all actuality he had hoped Hermione would choose what he was going to wear for him. His eyes roamed over the table and he spotted her next to Cormac McLaggen looking at one of the catalogs. Even if Hermione refused to talk to him at the moment there was no way he was letting McLaggen be her date, it wasn't going to happen, he would make sure of it…

He looked over to Ron and Lavender whose expression told Harry he would rather be feeding a Blast-Ended Skrewt than be looking over dress robes with the girl. It was another thing that Harry felt remorseful over.

Harry had stolen a glance at the Staff table and found Severus who seemed to be glaring at not him but someone else. Harry followed the man's icy stare and discovered that he was glaring at Cho who was walking over to Harry.

And he felt like a rat in a cage right then.

What would he do if Severus did give in soon? If the man did start believing in Harry's words? If he did find Harry to be cruel enough to sacrifice a girl's authentic feelings towards him just to make Severus see the mistake he was making? He would have to break up with Cho…

But really, and the girl should have been aware of this…he wasn't worth a broken heart…not hers anyway.

"Did you want to look together?" Cho said as she had sat next to Harry.

She smelt of jasmine and vanilla. He looked into her brown eyes. What would she think of him if she knew the truth? Would she be so understanding then? Or would she cry again? Or worse, find him repulsive, find him sick? But he couldn't find it in himself to care. If losing all his friends meant he could have the man, then that would be it. It would hurt, for a long time, but he couldn't lie.

He supposed that was what love did to people; a crazed love such as his, he didn't care if it was doomed. All he needed at this point was for his love to be returned.

"I'm wearing a dark blue dress," Cho said as she brought one of the men's catalogs over to them. "Do you want to wear dress robes or a tux?"

"A tux probably," Harry signed and let his eyes fall onto the catalog.

"Ok…I think a necktie would look best on you rather than a bow tie…" Cho was saying but Harry wasn't hearing her. His mind had drifted along to Severus once more and he had looked up at the Staff table but Severus was gone and he wondered what would the man look like in a tux?

They had looked at tuxes for the rest of their lunch period and he had found out that Cho knew a lot about suits and such things and about fashion in general which wasn't surprising to Harry. The soft sound of her voice had calmed him somehow…

"You should look at the ones I circled later. I have to get my books ready for Charms so I'll see you, Harry," Cho said and smiled at him.

Harry gave her a nod and a quick smile and watched her leave toward the double doors of the Hall. He had grabbed up the catalog with his right hand but before he could open it someone had begun to tug at his left. As Harry was pulled from his seat he had looked up quickly to find that it was Hermione who had grabbed him.

He managed to stand as she still tugged him forward and just like he had done to her she had brought him all the way out into the deserted entrance hall. Harry shivered at the cold gust of wind that came through the open doors of the castle.

Hermione's stare was almost lethal as her eyes were lit up with a strict confidence.

"I can't let this continue," Hermione said swiftly in a low tone as if she were reproaching him which she was…

"Look…" Harry began to sign, still holding the catalog.

"No, it isn't right Harry," Hermione hissed. "She really likes you and you're doing this to her? You're using her! I can't believe you'd stoop so low…"

"Oh like you're one to talk," Harry signed swiftly, dropping the catalog to the ground. "Snuggling up to Cormac, dumbing yourself down for him! Cormac? Really?"

Hermione's face flushed with embarrassment and she had shut her mouth. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Well…I haven't…agreed to date him so it's not the same…" Hermione sputtered out.

"It's getting there! What do you expect Ron to do? You're both acting ridiculous!" Harry signed forcibly. "Do you really think Ron is going to muster up the courage to ask you before the dance?"

"Ye…Yes I do!" Hermione let out.

"Well he's not! You're going to be all alone that night and meanwhile Lavender's going to be snogging him up under some mistletoe!" Harry signed before he could stop his hands as his lips flew along with the words.

And Hermione's eyes had gone wide and they had filled with hurt.

"No, no, I didn't mean that, please," Harry signed with desperation, his expression repentant. "I'm sorry, you know I would never…I'm just…stressed and with everything…"

"No…" Hermione had muttered and her shoulders slumped somewhat. She was silent for a moment. "You're right…"

"I am?" Harry signed feeling a bit of disbelief.

Hermione nodded quickly looking poignant.

"I shouldn't nag you when I'm just the same…" she said softly. "I just…feel bad for Cho…"

"I know…I'm terrible at this…but…I can deal with it," Harry signed slowly. "And I think she's caught up with all the other girls liking me…She doesn't love me…"

Hermione's eyes saddened with sympathy.

"I don't think she really believes it's going to be me that she spends the rest of her life with…" Harry signed and he had given her a weak smile. "She's taller than me…"

"Harry…" Hermione said as she laughed quietly.

"I don't want to hurt her…" Harry signed.

"But…don't you think this is hurting…you know…" Hermione's voice fell to a whisper.

"He's hurt me just as much…a lot more actually…" Harry signed though he was against that statement.

Hermione nodded gently.

"I just want him to realize…" Harry signed. "I want him to believe me…"

"I know Harry…" Hermione said.

"If it's ok with you…I'm going to talk to Ron…" Harry signed firmly.

Hermione's blush had risen again and she smiled guiltily.

"I'm sorry," Harry signed.

"Me too," Hermione said.

"Don't go with Cormac," Harry signed, shaking his head to emphasize it. "Go with anyone else, just not Cormac…"

Hermione's smile had grown as her eyes looked down at her uniform shoes. She then bent down and picked up the catalog, opening it to the pages that he and Cho had been looking over.

"A two button tux," Hermione said. "Charcoal black, with this vest in oxford blue, black shirt, and this necktie, black as well. You can choose the cuff links."

Harry put on a small smile as she watched her point to the certain colors and styles she had said.

"Thanks," Harry signed as he took the catalog from her.

"Where would you be without me?" Hermione said jokingly.

"Probably dead," Harry signed and it was very true.

They were late for Transfiguration but McGonagall's look of disapproval did not hinder the uplifted mood he was in.

* * *

Whatever good feelings he had had were obliterated the following morning. It was Wednesday and even though he hadn't wanted to go see Ms. Gardiner Hermione had made him. So now he was standing before Dumbledore's office door with a racing heart and burning ears. He owed her an apology, he knew that but he didn't know how to give it to her, he didn't know what words to say to her. A part of him was still angry with her because she had not said what she was doing with Severus which made him aggravated with the man all over again.

But he persevered and opened the door.

Another part of him had expected her not to be there but she was, sitting like always with her clipboard and pen. She was writing something down. Her hair was down today looking like shined silk and she wore a white long sleeved blouse with a high collar, a light gray pencil skirt, her legs were bare and her heels were a light black.

Ms. Gardiner had looked up at him and smiled calmly.

"Harry," she said.

He realized his hands were shaking horribly and his body was trembling. He had made his legs move over to the chair that was meant for him but they felt like lead. He sat down without meeting her eyes.

"I'm happy you came," she said and her eyes were filled with a sereneness that he didn't deserve.

"I'm really sorry," Harry signed awkwardly. "I was disrespectful…last time…and all you've been is kind to me…and generous and trying to help me…"

"Don't be sorry, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said gently and she had leaned forward. "You've been stressed lately…and it's been a long time since our first session together…It's better that you express yourself freely, that you let go of your emotions rather than keeping them chained up inside you…"

"I know but…you didn't deserve…all that I said…" Harry signed.

It was different to look at her this way now that he knew about Royle's past and he couldn't help but wonder why was she keeping him away from her? Did she really not love him back? Was she afraid of loving someone in the way that Royle did? Why?

"But you were right…" she spoke softly and Harry had a small sense of déjà vu. Her hands were folded on her lap and she was staring down at them. "It is cruel of me…"

Harry held his breath without meaning to.

But she did not continue and she had lifted her eyes to stare into his own.

"Professor Royle…he told me what happened…to him," Harry signed numbly. "About his family…his brother…"

Ms. Gardiner's eyes had grown sorrowful. Things were still around them despite the light tunes of the shined instruments in the office.

"I know he tried to kill himself…but you stopped him…" Harry continued. "He knows how much that hurt you…and he felt guilty…for the longest time…but he—"

"Harry…" she had said heavily and he stopped signing such words.

"I know it isn't my place…" Harry signed. "But you've done so much to help me…It just seems so unfair that I shouldn't set aside my problems to help you in return…"

Ms. Gardiner did not reply.

"I know I'm only sixteen…and my advice is probably useless…" Harry signed with nervous hands. He felt out of breath. "But…I can't stand to know that you might be suffering…We're friends…and I can't let you down in that way…"

She had smiled forlornly.

"You're kind, Harry…" Ms. Gardiner said in almost a whisper.

"I haven't been so much these days…" Harry signed, his eyes weighted with apology.

"He deserves someone better than me…"

Her words, though they had been almost inaudible, struck Harry's ears severely. Harry did not move; he only held tightly to the ends of his jumper's sleeves.

"I've never talked to anyone about this…" Ms. Gardiner said and her eyes were locked on her folded hands. "Ever since I was small…I've found it very hard to let people into my life…I didn't trust people…I still don't…even though it's practically my job to help them…I don't know why…Growing up I was spoilt with affection…but I was hard headed…I always believed I could take care of myself…"

He could hear his heart thumping away in his chest and echoing off in his ears but he couldn't believe that the roles had been reversed between them and it was utterly different to sit here and listen to her words but he gathered them up as carefully as he could in his head and they felt so delicate, so fragile to his senses. Did she always feel like this? With every one of her patients? Was she always this careful with them? This sincere and open? This afraid?

Because he was afraid of her words, of her feelings as he it could be possible to drop something so intangible, as if they could break if he did not treat them well enough. She had never spoken to him this way before and he could hardly take a breath…

"Ever since I was little…I was more or less obsessed with helping people even when they didn't need it…as if I needed to or else I couldn't sleep at night…" Ms. Gardiner said. "But it was a challenge for me to keep friends…Some times when people would find out how willing I was to help them…they would take advantage of it…of me…But something inside me…just feels like it has to be my obligation…And these people that I helped…I found it so easy to understand them…it felt like magic how I could read them so effortlessly…It frightened me when I was young…and there were times where I didn't want to be capable of such a thing…"

"It felt stronger…when Emily was born…when I found out she couldn't hear or speak…" Ms. Gardiner had shut her eyes tightly. It was a long moment of silence. When she opened them again she had looked to Harry and there were tears in her eyes; glistening against the deep green. "I wasn't the greatest big sister at first…I was smart for my age but…I was still so young…I was blind to the responsibilities of taking care of her…and I was afraid that she would grow up in a world that Voldemort would just destroy…"

"When she was four my mother had taken us to a festival…my father was working that day…I was adventurous at that age and I wandered away from my mother with Emily…It was crowded…I had wanted to watch a muggle magician who was performing…but as I pulled her through the crowd I lost her somehow…and she was so small…" Ms. Gardiner had wiped her tears away quickly. "I remember being so afraid…I couldn't find her nor my mother…and she couldn't hear me…and I kept thinking of how scared she must be…and how selfish I had been…It was almost an hour before I found her. She had gone off to search for my mother like any child does…My mother didn't scold me, she was too kind and only blamed herself…But I had felt horrible…I never ever wanted my sister to feel lost or that afraid again…"

"There were times where she was picked on at school…bullied…but she refused to be home schooled…she had told my mother that she wanted to make friends…I was very protective of her…and I felt guilty for having to come here because I was a witch…and she could not follow…" Ms. Gardiner still held her hands together. "Even today I still feel like I have to protect her…but all she ever says is that I need to live my own life…to find a husband already…" She put on a small smile. "I've met…so _many _people…I've made their lives easier to live with…but it's as if I'm afraid to work on my own…That there might be other things that I find and I don't like…that he won't like…"

The tears had appeared again in her eyes and Harry's heart felt like it was struggling against the weight of her words. He had never thought that such words would ever come from a beautiful, confident, clever woman that she was and he had realized how careless it was to think that way.

"I feel like I've failed him…I make excuses in my head, as if it's his fault…" she had started to say.

"But you aren't the only one who ran away…" Harry signed slowly.

"I know…But when he tried to kill himself…I felt like I hadn't tried hard enough to save him…" Her eyes were bright with tears. "And then he had left again…and I couldn't find him…I worried all that time…I grew angry with him…"

"So you still love him?" Harry signed hesitantly.

She looked at him and her eyes held that strength he was used to seeing within them.

"I never stopped loving him…"

He could tell that she had never said these words out loud before, that she had never confessed it to herself until now, that maybe she had been afraid to know it…

"I can't take my own advice…" Ms. Gardiner said. "You and I, Harry, we're not so different…Guilt and love…they're relentless emotions…ones that drive people mad…"

And just like with Royle the minutes following were soundless. But Harry understood the many workings of love now and just how complex it could be to love someone for half a lifetime.

"They're really isn't anything stopping you from being together…" Harry signed. His heart had settled and the old ache in his chest felt like it had lessened. He felt closer to the answers he needed and he felt a bit of confidence in the future.

She nodded softly and once again dried her eyes.

"I'm sorry…that I don't know exactly how to get your voice back Harry…" Ms. Gardiner said.

"I won't give up," Harry signed quickly, interrupting her. "I want to keep going…"

"I'm glad you feel that way," she said softly and she smiled. Her eyes found the clock. "But it looks like we spent your session talking about me…"

"It's ok…I'm thankful…that you trusted me enough to listen to everything," Harry replied in sign.

"I feel lighter…" Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry gave her a smile.

"I hope you'll talk to each other soon…" he signed.

* * *

He had dreamed of that ocean for the first time. He had dreamed of its blue waters and that ferocious sunlight, of its whitewashed shells and pillow soft sand, of its cool shadows and endless horizon, of the suspended quiet and surrounding beauty. The dream had felt like a calling, like a reprieve for his soul, a lament his body could bask in.

This was their piece of the world where they had been alone in, the two of them; this was where his heart had bled such overwhelming emotions that he had thought to be departed; they were an overflowing river of his beliefs, the roots of his love, of ancient things that some men were so quick to forget. He had let it grow here in this place amongst the shimmer in those quaking waves, as heavy as the great body of water before them. They throttled through his veins, they made the universe slip away, made his existence treasured to those bright eyes.

Yes, he had believed then, blindly.

Now, now it was as if he had forgotten what it was like to hold on to faith, to his devotion. He had lost his way, had strayed from such a ribbon thin path. Doubt had him beaten, had crushed his will. His heart hadn't been strong enough to handle it. But he would not believe it was too late; he couldn't bury away his heart again, couldn't let that numbing ice needle through it again. He was tired of doubt's demolition. He was not done.

He could feel the doubt wilting away, spiraling out of his chest like spindled thread. He was beginning to allow himself to think that the boy could love him, could want to derive a future from the relationship they had, no matter the consequences or dangers.

Hope had slivered through such poisonous distrust, had lived through it, and he didn't care how desolate that hope was, he would feed it, urge it to prosper, to flourish into a good enough life that he could give Harry.

He did not want to admit what had begun to fuel his ragged determination besides the need he had for Harry.

He couldn't deny it. His desperation was violent.

To see Harry with her, that Chang girl, was beyond maddening. He did not care if the boy's feelings were sincere. He wanted nothing more than to rip them apart, to rip that hand that held onto Harry's and cast it to oblivion. That was his hand to hold, his warmth. He couldn't bear it. He had realized how wrong he had been. He would never be able to let Harry go, never. He didn't care for his greed, he would let it free, let it gather around that body so he could indulge in every moment.

He could understand what Harry was doing, however. In simple terms, Harry was teaching him a lesson. Such cruel intent from the boy could have been admirable if he wasn't so enraged. The boy was forcing him to witness what other futures could look like and it was the practical image that he needed.

It scared him.

Harry was giving him what he deserved but he was still with her, smiling with her, laughing, looking more cheerful than the boy had in weeks. Those things were very sincere. Severus couldn't let it last long or the boy would fall in too deep. If it had lasted too long Harry's kind nature would oblige to her needs, he knew that or he believed it fully, either way, he could not take that chance. He needed to stop those possible futures from opening up before the boy's eyes, he needed to cover them up, she couldn't stray Harry away from him, couldn't let that heart wander away from his own.

He would make Harry his. It would take courage, it would need a bravery he had never been capable of in his life but he would surmount this dreading, overrun doubt, these weeds that had grown over his planted love…

Severus could feel the inspiration of it beginning to cling to his limbs, alive in his blood, even present in his dreams. He wanted to live in these dreams where Harry visited frequently, in these dreams where no threatening dark shadows lived behind such sun-drenched horizons, where time seemed infinite and his soul could lean against the boy's own forever…

* * *

He had noticed her eyes as soon as she had sat down. She had been crying very recently. Sophia had given him a brief smile as he set down their cups of Earl Grey tea. Her expression, however, seemed free and contented. Perhaps they had both been working on a resolution. He couldn't help but wonder over what had happened with Harry during his session.

She did not speak but simply began to drink her tea slowly. Severus did the same. He felt himself changing. Sophia had been the reason for it. She had given him the declarations that he had needed to hear from someone other than himself. His cracking façade now, in a matter of weeks, was all but destroyed and beneath it all, beneath the fear, the pulverizing loneliness, the colossal scale of doubt was the unearthed purifying truth that he could deserve Harry's love, that by a margin, he was suitable…

"He said yes to a girl…" Sophia's voice made his distracting thoughts break apart. Her deeply green eyes were cast onto the ballet-leaping flames in the hearth. It was colder now and the snow had come and it had made his heart long for ritual things.

She placed the porcelain cup down upon the tray and held her hands together upon her lap.

"He didn't tell me but gossip flies fast around here," she said quietly.

"I know what he is doing," Severus replied tonelessly.

"It's a bit reckless of him," Sophia said. Her eyes met his.

"It's not surprising…" Severus muttered. "I've earned it."

"Does it make you feel like a student again?" she asked, giving him a small smile.

Severus only narrowed his eyes and put his cup back on the tray.

"This will be our last meeting," Severus said.

Her eyes lightened and a soft color came into her complexion.

"This fear has grown old…I want to be rid of it…" Severus said softly.

"So you will tell him?" Sophia said.

Severus waited as his heart shuddered like a breeze hurrying through tree leaves. He nodded only twice and he was growing restless, the feeling was tantalizing his concentration.

"I'm happy for you," she said gently. "I hope it goes well."

And that was all that needed to be said between them on such a subject. Emphasis was useless. He would not tell her of the final confession he had for Harry. It was only for the boy's ears, it only connected them.

The time he had spent with her had been exhausting and slightly painful. He still despised her overconfident nature and that constant smile but he was grateful for her ruthless persistence. She had made him realize the things that he had lost sight of; that he was something significant in the boy's life, that Harry needed him, that even a man like him was not damned, that he could fight for things that existed behind that line. He was prepared for the life he could live with Harry, he would not spend it being a coward, he would do anything for that life.

"What do you believe will bring Harry's voice back?" Severus asked after a drawn out moment.

The boy's muteness was something he had postponed for too long. He did not know how to help Harry speak again but it was crucial to find a way…

"It's not you in particular," Sophia said delicately. "But rather the strength that you give him, the strength that he will need…"

He did not reply. He could only hope that she was right. If Harry's voice never returned he didn't want to imagine how devastated the boy would be.

He was thinking of the best way to approach Harry, to create the right moment to profess his feelings. What sort of performance would it be? How would he make sure it wasn't ruined? He was a stranger to these things.

"I want to thank you," Sophia said with a pleasant softness. It was a second before her eyes looked up to meet his stare.

"For what?" Severus could only reply. He was too preoccupied with his overlaying thoughts that he was growing nervous again, his fingertips had actually started to tremble, to vibrate with his breeding anticipation. He couldn't believe how ready he felt, how bold his heart was becoming, racing along with colorful visions of the future in his head, mirages he was growing hungry for. He tried to keep his expectations under control but they were bounding just out of reach…

He had held himself back for so long, doubt acting like a kind of leash, choking all the light from his memories he had had on that beach, in that restaurant, in this very room. This feeling of loss was incredible to his imagination; it felt so tainted and crude, harrowing and he wanted nothing more than to hurl it from his bones, to bury it in the earth and never visit it again.

He felt like he hadn't seen the sky in a long while…

"You let me help you," Sophia said. "I was surprised that you did…" She bowed her head somewhat, her shined locks of hair falling gracefully about her fair face, her eyes careful, the light gleaming against that forest green. "You were a challenge…I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to smile…"

His cold lips parted barely, his eyes broadening hardly in recognition as he stared at the faded blush over her cheeks. His palms pressed down upon his knees.

"That's why you put on such displays in my class? Exploding cauldrons? Making newt eyes bounce across tables?" Severus said too softly. His tone of voice was almost foreign to his ears.

"I couldn't resist it," she said. Her eyes moved upwards to fall into his gaze and she smiled tenderly. "I just tried to bring some life back into you…Whether it was anger or embarrassment…it didn't matter…It was the only way I could do it…I was too young to do much else…I wasn't a therapist yet…but I just couldn't let your eyes stay so…deadened…"

"I didn't realize…" Severus said, his voice trailing off…

"I didn't expect you to," Sophia said. "I wasn't afraid of you like most of us were…but I knew it was impossible…"

"That's not entirely true..." Severus said.

"Better late than never," her voice was a whisper as she had looked down again and picked up her tea cup. Severus was silent as he let the atmosphere settle calmly around them, his expression unreadable but his eyes conflicted with the weight of understanding what she had meant. He almost didn't want to believe it to avoid the small itch of guilt.

As the rest of the hour wore on they drank their tea and talked of Harry and she had mentioned that he had Apparated during his first lesson which was something she hadn't been able to manage until her third lesson. They even talked of music and Sophia had been intrigued that Severus could play the piano. When their last session was over he had walked her to the door, the look in his eyes thanking her, and she had wished him luck and then she left carrying his secrets away with her.

* * *

Harry was fidgety. His right foot would not stop tapping up and down and he had an annoying itch above his left eyebrow that would not go away. He stood by Hermione in the dank smelling Potions classroom as the girl was dissecting the antidote for the mystery poison set before them in a small sized cauldron. They were repeating this lesson because they would need to fill out the list of steps on their exams. He couldn't believe how Hermione could work with such a vigilant concentration that he seemed to always lack. Harry could feel the dull ache reaching the front of his skull. His hand was nervously flicking his pen against the workbench.

It was the way the man had looked at him at the start of class. Harry's eyes had met Severus's by chance and though he was expecting that cold, searing stare the man had been giving him since he had said yes to Cho it wasn't the case today. Severus had looked at him as if he were somehow feeling an amicable calmness; that straight composure had been there, a shield in those black eyes and behind that laid a certain soft heartedness that Harry had missed dearly.

And the scene around him had flittered away in that instant, smeared like charcoal against that face. He didn't know how to feel or what to expect and he tried to smother out the eagerness that had swept up from beneath his feet. What had that look meant?

The minutes hefted on and Harry wrote down each step in his notes along with Hermione's trained hand and when she had bottled their antidote he was more than grateful that the hour and a half was over. As Hermione turned in their notebooks and labeled vial Harry put his things away quickly. The bell rang. His heart was hammering without restraint in his chest.

He hesitated as his fellow Sixth Years headed down the middle aisle and out the door. Hermione took a glance back at him, her eyes giving him faint encouragement. He looked to Severus and the man had not left as if he were a gust of wind like he had done during the previous weeks, no, he was standing before his desk, the vials already put away in a wooden box and the notebooks stacked neatly but the man still stood. His demeanor looked as if he were trying to decide if he should go or if he should stay. His eyes lifted and Harry saw that refined edge shine like a blade in those black orbs and a shiver crossed over his neck so fast Harry held his breath.

He left his school bag upon the workbench and took tentative steps over to the man's desk. He felt anxious. He could only wait for the man to speak. The long seconds stung his eyes, he couldn't blink.

"I want you to give me an honest answer," Severus began softly. His voice was still and proper. "Do you like her?"

Harry's stomach felt tight and his hands trembled ever so lightly at his sides. He looked down at the man's desk. It had been a long time since Severus had acted sociable toward him. The time they had spent apart was more apparent than ever in this moment.

"Just as a friend…" Harry signed and the guilt felt painful in his chest and he was embarrassed to be confronted by the man.

"Did it have to be her?" Severus said. His eyes were strict upon Harry, his gaze daunting. Harry thought the man was angry now but no trace of that anger was visible in Severus's features.

"Who would you have preferred?" Harry signed. His own expression had grown cold. "You didn't say anything about choosing who I would date."

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"I thought she would have the most…influence on you," Harry signed, his eyes full of hostility, his body shaking from it. "I've only ever kissed her—"

"You are taking advantage of her feelings…" Severus said. "I wouldn't have expected it from you…"

"Since when are you so conscious of someone else's feelings—" Harry signed somewhat vigorously.

"Harry," Severus said and it was gentle.

Harry forced his eyes to stare into those black depths.

In a split second Severus had rounded his desk, Harry had turned swiftly to face the man who stood before him now, closely, eyes wavering over Harry's vexed and slightly worry filled expression. The bottom of his back pressed against the edge of the desk and he remembered that day in his room where Severus had been so incensed…

"Your face always looked like this…even back then…when I had you cornered…" Severus said quietly, it really was almost a whisper. "You were so cautious of me…I didn't care for your brave nerve then…But now…" Severus's hand had come to hold the side of his face gently. Harry could have flinched but fought the reaction off. His heart was in his throat. Severus did not continue and Harry let the breath he had been holding free.

"Have you kissed?" Severus said. The desperate feelings behind those words were trapped before they left the man's lips.

Harry could only shake his head barely.

"But of course she desires it…" Severus said and he had leaned closer to Harry. Harry's vision was shaky over the man's black eyes; such set composure had his heart racing fiercely, had thrown together quick flashes of fantasies in his mind of the two of them together, naked and the longing inside of him was stretched so thin, surely it would shatter, surely he would scream because of it…

Through the blurred images he saw those lips reaching down to meet his own.

Harry had leaned back, his palms using the desk as leverage. He had turned his head away from the kiss. Such heat lashed over his cheeks and he was breathless.

"Your relationship is false...yet you feel you owe her some amount of loyalty…How noble…" Severus's whisper brushed against his ears. The man had come closer, his hands placing themselves next to Harry's upon the desk. "You will end it with her…"

Harry's eyes met the man's own quickly. He felt anger inside of him and it was strange to feel hopeful at the same time…

"Saturday," Severus began softly, "come to my office whenever you'd like. I have things I must tell you…show you…and you can ask me whatever you want…"

The man had come away, straightening himself to his full height. Harry could not move; he hadn't words to say or emotions to cling to, not forgiveness or rage…

"I don't care if you are furious with me…" Severus said. "Saturday…" He nodded once, his eyes quiet. "I will be waiting for you…"

Harry lowered his eyes, time seemed stunned, everything felt much too silent. Severus had turned to his right and with those long strides he went through his office door. It took a long while before Harry was able to move again.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon he had let his will be liberated, be controlled by the wants of others. The immense amount of rich snow outside beckoned everyone to meet it with heightened giddiness. Those who did not have class were out in the white, playing and enjoying the free spirited atmosphere.

Cho had led Harry outside, following most of the Sixth Year Gryffindors that included Ron, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, and Parvarti. Many of Cho's friends joined in a long with Ginny, Luna, and Padma Patil. Harry, along with many others, had switched out his robes for a jumper and a coat to put over his uniform. They had started building snowmen and Harry had watched Cho's smiling face decorating the face of their own with stones she had transfigured into buttons. Harry had taken off his Gryffindor scarf and put it around the snowman.

Everyone fooled around, making snow angels, catching snowflakes on their tongues, racing through the compacted feet of glistening hills. Harry could see that the Black Lake had frozen over creating a perfect place for students to ice skate in which they did. Some were very good, others fell constantly, slipping and waving their arms about to keep balance.

The afternoon went on and Seamus had voted that they have a snowball fight which they usually had every year. Teams were selected. Hermione had come out to join them and chose to be on Harry's team as Seamus was captain of the opposing team. Lavender had forced Ron to be on Seamus's team.

Their numbers grew as the hour swept on and no one showed mercy, not even Hermione as the balls of snow flew, zooming through the air to meet their hopeful targets. Trenches were made, Hagrid's Hut had been accidentally hit more than a few times, a bit of blood was shed but the laughter and glee was immeasurable and the cold was relentless in spite of their layers of coats, gloves, and scarves.

When the clouds had cleared away and the blue was fading fast in the sky but still strong enough that the ground still sparkled so cleanly and the pine trees in the distance could still be made out they had ended their game, clothes damp and caked with snow, noses running and ears red, out of breath, the mist of it rising in the evening air.

Harry's heart was heavy, his head dizzy with running so much, his left cheek stinging from one of Ron's well aimed snow balls. Hermione was ahead of their group as they were heading off toward the castle's warm light that called them all. Cho was at his side, her hand in his but he did not move.

"What's wrong?" Cho had asked with bated breath. Her cheeks were so rosy, her eyes reflecting the snowy world around them.

His dosage of joy was becoming as numb as his fingers.

"You go," Harry signed quickly, taking his hand away from hers. "I'm going to see Hagrid." It was a lie but he didn't feel like joining them for dinner, didn't feel like sitting with them under the floating lit candles in that bright hall.

Cho hesitated but she smiled softly at him.

"Don't be too long, you'll catch cold," she said. "See you."

Harry nodded.

He watched her hurry off with another Ravenclaw girl. Harry's feet moved without purpose. He walked toward the Black Lake, his eyes following its frozen surface. There was still a small group of younger students skating. He heard the laughter and rushed voices fade away as three Seventh Year Slytherin girls passed him by to head to the castle. He watched as they went, a Slytherin Seventh Year boy jumping behind one of them to put a handful of snow down her back.

Harry faced forward as she shrieked with surprise. He halted his paces. He put his cold hands in his coat pockets to warm them. He wondered if he should get his scarf from their snowman back. He was shivering, the winds were picking up.

It had only been four days and he would have to break up with Cho. His senseless plan had worked in whatever way, he did not care but it had put that change he needed in Severus. Or maybe it hadn't really at all, maybe the man had found it on his own and just needed that time that Hermione had spoken of…he didn't want to care.

Severus had things to tell him? What things? Were they more regrets? Secrets? He didn't want to be afraid of them but he couldn't help it. All he knew, since Severus had told him to meet him on Saturday, was that he would, he'd have to and he would have to deal with Cho's feelings on top of that. It was what he deserved…but he didn't know how to do it. He felt horrible again, dumb and childish, ashamed.

But how could it matter if it meant Severus would be with him again?

The fear was great, traveling through his veins and swallowing his spirit. What else was there to face through this stormy sea? How fast would he have to forgive the man to keep that heart?

A sudden high pitched scream had thrown his attention back to the present. His vision hurried to meet where it had come from. Out on the ice Harry could see the little group of First and Second Years that had still been skating all trying to gather together. They had begun shouting but Harry could not make out their words for the howling wind.

Dread crept swiftly up in his chest and he knew what had happened; someone had fallen through the ice. Before he could think he was running, fast. He reached the frozen water in an instant, his tired lungs working hard as the slippery surface propelled his path forward to where the children were. They held on to each other as they moved aside when they saw Harry racing to them. They could not get too near the opening because the ice was cracking more.

Harry didn't know how he had done it, all he could remember thinking was that he or she was down in that dark, frigid water because they had not broken the surface yet, they were not struggling for someone to heave them up from the broken hole…But he had let himself fall, his right side striking the hard ice. The world was silenced; he could no longer hear their scared voices. The reflexive movement had caused him to slide with such speed and his body slipped easily into the fractured gap.

It was like he had fallen into fire; licking flames of sharp needles seemed to have scattered over his entire body. His heart felt crushed, bruised but he had no time to mend any pain. He kicked his legs and swam down, his eyes could see the shine of the skater's blades; it was a small girl. She was drifting down with such an achingly slow pace, her long blond hair floating around her pale face.

He realized somewhere in his empty mind that he hadn't taken a breath before diving in. But he was quick to reach her. He gathered her up in his arms. He did not know what sort of spell would help; he wasn't so skilled under pressure like Hermione was. The adrenaline fueled strength was all he needed however. He couldn't tell how many seconds or minutes had flown by as he broke the surface, his vision blurred by water. He managed to lift her out of the freezing water and a Second Year boy had pulled her to where the ice was thicker.

Harry scrambled out of the hole, grabbing at broken pieces of ice till he found leverage and soon he was on his knees, shivering like mad, his bones feeling as if they were stabbing his tortured muscles. His job was not done. He crawled over to her quickly. She wasn't moving or breathing and her lips were blue.

He fumbled for his wand in his pocket and pointed it at her throat. He concentrated on the incantation _Anapneo. _She coughed up the lake water that obstructed her lungs as Harry was quick to lift her head up. She began shivering just as badly as Harry and he cast a hurried warming charm over her form before lifting her into his arms.

She wasn't so heavy even with her drenched clothes and skates. Harry hurried the best he could toward the castle as the young students followed, murmuring out their worries and realizing that it had been Harry Potter who had saved their friend. He had wondered, in his hazed mind, where the Giant Squid had been lurking during all this…

It had grown much darker and he tried to ignore just how cold he was and the fact that he couldn't string sentences together in his head or feel his legs or take a full breath. He hadn't known when he had reached the castle or how the warm light of its corridor lamp fires felt to his body but he was aware when he had made it to the Hospital Wing because Madame Pomfrey had hurried forward as he placed the girl onto the nearest white bed.

He had staggered back as the nurse tended to the First Year, his hands finding the wall as he leaned against them. Things started to fade out fast then. He felt nauseous and entirely disoriented. His vision swirled as the room looked like it was extending out before him. In the darkness of his mind he began to see images of things, of a black stoned room lighted by hanging torches, there was a steel bowl on a table filled with something as red as blood, there was a skeletal hand reaching out, yellow sharp nails caked with dirt, the hand was bleeding, he could hear the demon breathing…

He heard the mediwitch say that the First Year had hit her head and then he passed out.

* * *

When he came too it took some time before his eyes adjusted to the light in the Hospital Wing. He was warm and dry. His muscles hurt however as did his head. Things were only blurred to him because his glasses were off. He waited a moment before he slowly sat up in bed.

"Harry."

The small call had risen from Cho who he could make out as she was sitting by his bedside. But it was Hermione who put on his glasses. When things were clear he saw Ron standing at the end of his bed, Cho sitting in a wooden chair beside it, and Hermione standing the closest to him at his side.

"How do you feel?" Hermione said softly, her eyes scrunched with worry.

"Fine," Harry signed clumsily. His cheeks were hot. He wore his uniform still but his shoes were off and his coat and jumper were folded at the end of the bed.

"It was lucky you were there," Hermione said. "Most of them were only First Years…" Her eyes darted to Cho and back to Harry.

Harry glanced around and found the young blond girl asleep in the bed at the front nearest to the open doors of the Wing.

"She's fine," Cho said. "Just resting."

Harry nodded.

"We're glad you're ok, Harry," Hermione said, her expression anxious. "We'll just…" She found Ron's stare; he went a bit pink in the face.

"I'll stay here with him," Cho said kindly.

"Right…" Hermione muttered. "See you in the common room, Harry."

Harry would have liked to have left with the both of them but he felt wobbly. He nodded again and then Hermione and Ron left the ward together.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Cho asked quietly.

"Yeah," Harry nodded once more.

"That was brave, what you did…she could have drowned," she said gently.

Harry cast his eyes down.

"That's a nice necklace," Cho remarked. "Was it a gift?"

He almost didn't understand her at first but then his eyes looked down quickly to see the necklace that Severus had given him, the iridescent glass gleaming up at him because of the lamplight. He thought it must have come out from under his shirt when he had gone into the water…

He nodded numbly in response and tucked the necklace under his uniform shirt automatically.

Cho didn't question further. Harry looked her over. Her hair was let down again except for a part where she had braided a bit of it back. She smiled at him and Harry gave her a smile back.

"McGonagall came to check on you when she heard what happened, the whole school was wondering what had gone on," Cho said. "Professor Snape was here too…"

Harry's alertness had jumped somewhat at those last words.

"He wanted to know what happened I suppose…" Cho said and she looked slightly confused and she gave him a shrug. "He's been a bit mean to Ravenclaw this past week…He took forty points from me all together on Monday…Maybe he's mad about something…I thought he'd changed…"

Harry couldn't look her in those brown eyes of hers, he really couldn't. The guilt of it all made his shoulders sting and made the hunger in his stomach disappear.

He couldn't do it yet; he couldn't break up with her. He knew he could only blame himself, he had been so selfish, so uncaring of her feelings and he would hate the consequences that would follow when he would tell her it wouldn't work between them. He would have to ease into it somehow. He hadn't even told Hermione what Severus had said to him.

And he didn't know what to think of the visions he had seen before he blacked out, he didn't want to believe they were caused by Voldemort but it was obvious that they were the man's memories, what had been happening during the same time Harry was losing consciousness. He didn't know what it had meant; he had no idea of what Voldemort was planning…

Madame Pomfrey had served Harry hot soup and pumpkin juice and Harry sat there with Cho as he ate slowly. She talked to him sweetly. She did not comment on how he was always throwing himself out there to try to save others, her eyes did not look bitter, not wondering why he was not able to save Cedric that horrible night, who could expect that from him when Voldemort had been there? When he had only been 14? Sure, he had saved a First Year girl from drowning under that ice, but not Cedric, not Sirius…And how would he save Severus from that demon? Because certainly, it was something he felt he must do…

* * *

That Thursday Harry had been busy with various tasks. He had felt better after a full night's sleep and taking a Pepper Up Potion. The First Year, who had been a Hufflepuff, had thanked him that morning at breakfast in front of everyone, her big cerulean eyes shining with gratitude, her cheeks pink and Harry had just told her to be careful from now on.

Harry had gone to see Hedwig that morning to pet her and give her his order form for his tux a long with Ron who looked sheepish. Harry had attempted to tell Ron that he should ask Hermione to the dance and end things with Lavender but it was no use, Ron's valor was dismal. Harry pressed further in all seriousness telling the boy how he would feel to see Hermione going with some other bloke and Harry knew Ron was still upset because Hermione had kissed Krum no matter how long ago that was. The boy wouldn't budge and Harry had to give in. Perhaps Ron would do it last minute…

The ball was less than two weeks away and Harry was a witness to many strange happenings as boys were plucking up their courage and asking out who they fancied. What was the strangest to witness was when he had turned a corridor, heading off to the library to meet Hermione (who was still doing her best to research Horcruxes) and found Neville Longbottom facing Luna Lovegood. The boy's ears were aflame but he stood tall and Luna held her placid gaze on him, her silvery gray eyes smiling. Harry passed by them slowly enough to hear Neville stutter out the question and to listen to Luna's merry acceptance. He couldn't help but smile.

But all these newly made couples did not make it any easier to break up with Cho. It was as if the imaginary knife in his side was being twisted. When the day was over he still had not done it, only being able to listen to Cho as she talked of random things, what she wanted to do after she graduated, asking what he had in mind to do after Hogwarts; he just didn't know how to even begin to do it. He was spineless. He was running out of time. His dreams were fretful that night.

* * *

That Friday morning he had dressed in jeans, a gray thermal shirt, his dark blue jumper and his black wool coat. He put on thick socks and a pair of dark brown boots he hadn't yet worn. They were simple boots meant for the snow outside in which he planned to trek through to alleviate his stress. He tried to convince himself he could tell Cho as he stood in front of the mirror after he had brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He only wound up glaring at his reflection.

Irritably, he grabbed up his gloves and headed down to the common room. He wondered if Ron and Hermione had gone to breakfast already since he did not meet them on the way to the Great Hall. He found Ron with Lavender latched to his side as usually and Hermione was seated next to Katie Bell. He sat next to Cho who was mostly always joining Harry at mealtimes since they had gotten together. He felt groggy but anxious still. He would have to get her alone somehow. He couldn't bear thinking of her reaction, if only he hadn't told her yes…

When they had finished breakfast Harry had told the girl they should go sit in the courtyard. The sky outside was a crisp blue and the scenery was beautiful. He thought maybe such an atmosphere might help the way she would feel once Harry had finally gotten it over with.

However almost an hour had fleeted away and they had just been sitting upon one of the damp benches. Cho had just kept talking, about the way her family celebrated Christmas and somehow that led to explaining to Harry about the Chinese New Year…

He just couldn't interrupt that smile on her face or the lighthearted brightness in her eyes. This god awful task was impossible and Harry felt so unlike himself. He was close to blaming Severus for all this mess that he was in.

Before he could gather his nerve a Third Year Gryffindor had come around the corner and skipped over to them.

"I was told to give you this, Harry," she said as she held out a small scroll of parchment.

Harry took the little note from her pink mitten hand and before he could thank her she skipped off to a group of girls who were waiting for her and giggling.

Cho stared at him curiously as he unfolded the parchment. He recognized the untidy scrawl as Hagrid's handwriting though it was difficult to read because of the large blotches on the paper where the ink had run. Harry read:

_ Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione,_

_ Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him, you know how special he was. Hermione, I know you'd have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you'd come down for the burial later this evening. I'm planning to do it before dusk. If it isn't too much to ask. I just can't face it alone. _

_ Hagrid_

Harry's heart sank as he imagined Hagrid's giant tear drops hitting the parchment. He had already decided he would go though he would have to attend by himself since the other two were still on bad terms.

"What is it?" Cho asked after a moment.

Harry folded the note and pocketed it.

"Nothing," Harry signed. "Hagrid wants me to have tea with him later…" He didn't really feel like explaining that he was going to attend a monstrous dead spider's funeral for the sake of the Gamekeeper's well being.

"Oh…well, that's nice," Cho muttered softly.

Harry was thankful she hadn't wanted to invite herself along. He felt bad that Hagrid had lost a long time friend no matter how the thing had tried to sick its children to eat him and Ron when they were 12. He only wished he had brought someone when he had buried Sirius's letter…

"Do you want to go to the library?" Cho asked considerately.

Harry nodded with heavy reluctance.

They spent the rest of the morning together in another corner of the library. They sat close, shoulder to shoulder, their sides touching, their knees brushing against each other when they would move a certain way. She was going through her Transfiguration book, almost tutoring him. Her perfume was making him dizzy. She was only a bit taller than him but she was just as thin. She had said he smelt nice. She had taken off his glasses, saying he looked much different without them as she laughed lightly, and she signed certain words while she talked in a hushed tone and her flirtations were making it ever so harder on Harry. He just wanted to get away from this sort of guilt…

They ate lunch together and Harry noticed that Hagrid was not seated at the Staff table. He said he had an essay to write when they were finished so they both went to their own common rooms, Harry following Ron and Lavender. He took refuge by the fire as Hermione joined him. He could tell she was miserable or else tired because she had laid her head on his right shoulder. She had done it absentmindedly but at least it calmed Harry's worries.

"He told me to meet him tomorrow…" Harry had signed the words as his eyes stared hazily at the fire.

Hermione's head lifted from his shoulder and she straightened herself on the sofa, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to them which no one was, it's not like anyone could make out who "He" was anyway.

"He did?" Hermione whispered.

Harry nodded shortly, his expression solemn.

"I have to break it off with Cho…" Harry signed and then sighed. "I should never have said yes to her…"

"Harry…" Hermione muttered gently.

"What should I do?" Harry signed.

She waited a few seconds, her eyes contrite. She reached out with her hand and patted down the part of his bangs that had been tossed by the winds.

"Just be honest…" Hermione said in a whisper. "Tell her you love someone else…"

"How…" Harry began to sign.

"It's going to be difficult no matter what," Hermione said.

Harry lowered his head and leaned back in his seat.

"Have you asked anyone?" he signed.

"No…and I don't think I will…" Hermione answered plainly.

"You'll go alone?" Harry signed.

"Perhaps…but who knows…there's still time," she said.

Harry didn't reply. He doubted Ron would gain the courage to escape Lavender's swarming affection that he suffered through day after day. But then again maybe he would snap.

It was almost five so Harry stood and told Hermione he was going for a walk. She gave him a look before telling him she would see him at dinner and she headed to the girl's dorms.

Harry clambered through the portrait hole and walked measurably down the flights of stairs. He reached the entrance doors and walked out of the castle just as many students were making their way back in from having just finished enjoying another day of the winter wonderland that blanketed Hogwarts.

Many thoughts eased their way into his head but one stuck as if caught by a swiping net. He had been so preoccupied once again with other misfortunes that he had forgotten about his voice. He was so accustomed now to this way of living, to using sign language; he was hardly embarrassed anymore because of it. But he couldn't give in, he wanted to speak again, especially now, especially since he wanted so desperately to confess his love to Severus, to confess so many of his feelings to the man…

And he had just begun to think of their future again.

When he reached Hagrid's hut he knocked on the door rapidly.

"Yeh came," Hagrid croaked when he opened the door.

Harry had taken out his notepad, which he hadn't used in a long time, and ripped out the premade note he had written for Hagrid. He handed it to him:

_I'm really sorry that Aragog passed. I know he was a good friend to you. Hermione and Ron couldn't make it but they're really sorry as well. I'm sorry I haven't visited, I've been busy with everything…_

"S'alright," Hagrid murmured, blinking against the building tears in his swollen, puffy eyes. "He'd've bin touched yeh're here, though, Harry…"

He gave a great sob. Harry patted Hagrid's elbow, feeling genuine remorse. When Hagrid had composed himself he said in a cracking voice:

"I wanted ter give 'im a nice burial...a proper send off."

Harry nodded. For some reason in that moment as he saw how sad the man was his mind reached far back into his memories, so far to that night when the half-giant had broken through the door of that small shack in the middle of the roaring sea, this man who had whisked him away from his dejected life at the Dursleys. Had he really been scared of Hagrid then? It seemed foolish now…

"Come now, we're burying him just beyond the pumpkin patch," Hagrid said forlornly. "I've already dug the grave…Jus' thought I'd say a few words over him—" Harry lowered his eyes as the man's voice broke once more.

He followed Hagrid all the way to the back garden. The sky had grown just a bit darker but Harry could make out where the sun was, making the piled snowy ground gleam at them, casting cool shadows everywhere, the smell of pine was so strong to Harry's nose.

They continued up the hill. There was nothing growing in Hagrid's garden which was layered with snow. His cheeks were red with cold now but he couldn't really feel the frosty air that swirled the powder about their feet.

Harry could see the dead Acromantula which was lying on its back, its legs curled and tangled. He couldn't help but grimace. The spider lay on the edge of a massive pit beside a ten-foot-high mound of freshly dug soil.

Harry stood a little ways away from the burial area as Hagrid heaved the giant spider into his arms. Harry's eyes broadened a bit at such a particular feat. With a loud grunt he rolled it into the dark pit which stood out immensely against the white covered earth. Harry shivered slightly from the crunching sound it made. Hagrid began to cry.

Harry went over to him and patted his elbow once more. Despite Hagrid's sobs everything else around them was silent though a crow did caw here and there. Hagrid had muffled through his cries a few mournful words for his dear arachnid friend and Harry had just nodded along. He hadn't really any good memories of Aragog; he had tried to block them out to be honest…

Harry took a few steps back as he watched Hagrid take out his umbrella wand and with a wave the pile of earth rose up and then fell with a stifled impact onto the huge spider. The mound grew smooth and it was done. He thought briefly that in the spring flowers would be sure to bloom on this very spot.

After an extended few minutes Harry walked alongside Hagrid as the man's breathing was hitched. Hagrid practically fell into his usual chair at the large table. The sun was setting gradually.

"Thanks for coming, Harry," Hagrid managed.

Harry nodded his head quickly, his eyes filled with apology.

"Yeh should get back up ter the castle," he said. "It's gettin' late…" He glanced at Harry, his eyes still swirling with twinkling tears. "Will yeh come have tea with me soon?"

"Sure," Harry said mutely as he nodded strongly. "Of course." He took out his notepad and pen and quickly wrote: _Will you be alright? _He would have stayed here in this hut till the moon was out for ages if it meant Hagrid would stop looking so sorrowful…

"I will…soon enough…" Hagrid muttered. "Go on now, yeh'll catch cold…"

Harry nodded softly and pocketed his notepad and pen. He patted Hagrid's shoulder before giving in and hugging the man the best he could and then he was out the door, hearing the man's sobs once again. He thought it best that Hagrid have a drink and fall into the safe haven of sleep…

He had been about to go back to the castle but he had caught sight of the beast flying over the Forbidden Forest in the distance. He had recalled that day where he had found Luna out among the Thestrals. He didn't want to see Cho at the moment; he didn't want to face the inevitable…

So he walked in the opposite direction, down the sloping snowy hills and through beginning of tall trees of the dark forest. His heart felt tapered to grief and his skin itched with apprehension.

He hadn't realized how far into the forest the Thestrals gathered until he reached them finally. There were a few of them together, only three and they were eating some sort of furry vermin. Harry's breathing was a bit labored as he stood many feet away from them. He sidestepped over to a log, brushed some of the snow from it and sat down. He let his thoughts loose as he stared at their skeletal horse-like bodies, the way their leathery wings stretched and flapped, the exhale of breath through their reptile-like noses. He listened and watched a hoof kick now and then.

It would soon be dusk but Harry's body wouldn't budge. He thought of that night where he had come here after he and Hermione had tricked Umbridge. He thought of their journey to London as if it had meant anything…He couldn't help but waver in the regret, couldn't help but want to still turn back time to that June night. Impossible…it was no use to keep drowning himself in it all.

He was startled when the creature had approached him, bowing its head before him. Harry stood slowly, his legs numb and he reached out with his right hand to pet its nose barely. Its milky black eyes found his own and he did not blink or breathe but he could feel his heart beating away in his chest; Sirius would have wanted him to keep living, to try as hard as he could to just keep living…It was strange to wonder how different they were, life and death…

The Thestrals left soon after, probably because he had not brought any raw meat with him. Harry thought it best to get back or he would worry Hermione and Ron.

The moments following that were hard to piece together in his cloudy mind. They had felt like sparks along through a pitch black tunnel…

He had turned and he had immediately come to a halt, the bottom of his left shoe slipping a bit on some ice. The sight of Draco Malfoy just standing feet away in-between the sparse trees wiped his mind clean and before he knew it the boy had shot a disarming spell.

Harry had jumped to the side to avoid it but he slipped again and fell to his knees. He fumbled to get out his wand, struggling to grasp at any focus in this so sudden instantaneous moment…

"_Crucio_."

The curse struck him with a force he would never have expected from Draco. And he was writhing in the snow, the shots of scorching pain bulleting through him and he had screamed noiselessly, a scream that would have echoed throughout the wood. His head filled with shadowed colors and he could not breathe, he didn't want to breathe. He felt his head strike against the pact snow, felt his limbs struggle, felt the fire fill up his skin; the hot tears released in his eyes grew cold. He fought to grab at anything…

The pain was gone and he gasped heavily and he felt Malfoy's hands on him as he took his wand from his pocket. The boy had flung it somewhere into the trees. Harry didn't know what was happening, didn't know why Malfoy was attacking him again…

"Shouldn't wander off alone, Potter," Malfoy had spat. "Makes you an easy target."

He had grabbed Harry by the collar. Harry didn't know how to move yet as the effects of the Unforgivable were seeping away at a measured pace. Malfoy struck him hard across his face with a balled fist. The blond boy was breathing fast, dressed in all black, a coat similar to Harry's, a charcoal colored scarf wrapped around his neck.

And adrenaline pumped through him, his instincts coming alive…

Malfoy was on top of him. Harry clenched his right hand into a fist and slammed it into the boy's side. Malfoy reacted just enough for Harry to heave his body off of him and he scrambled away. He didn't have a wand, it was lost. His only hope was to run. He got to his feet dizzyingly and ran forward, tackling the boy but Malfoy had been ready. He grabbed Harry and spun him around, flinging him to the snow shielded earth. Harry fell on his front, Malfoy had slipped. Harry's heart was pounding, he felt like he could feel it reverberating in his limbs.

He hauled himself up and ran forward but Malfoy had shot a stunning spell. It hit his upper back and he hit the ground once more.

"I'm taking you to him!" Malfoy shouted.

Harry didn't want to look back, he just wanted to escape. Crazed panic sailed through him. He looked back, he saw the binding spell fly toward him, and he rolled, he dug his hands into the earth, he forced the muscles in his legs to respond and he was running and he knew Malfoy was chasing him.

He ran through the trees, clumsily but desperately, down the steep slopes, leaping over logs. Malfoy was close behind, firing off curses. They lashed against the bark of the trees, small branches fell, Harry had to duck a lot, dirt and snow sprung up from the ground all around him, hitting his face. He fell once, rolling, and when he got up his shoulder hurt but he was still running.

He thought he could make it no matter how far away Hagrid's hut was, no matter how far away the castle was, but then he felt it, something sliced his left side, an angry curse, and his left leg felt deadened and he staggered hard into a tree. He could feel the blood, hot and spilling fast; he felt the pain as he grabbed at the tree to keep him on his feet…

"Potter!" Malfoy gasped.

Harry could see the blond Slytherin, out of breath, wand held up.

"Don't move!" the boy shouted.

Why was he doing this? Did he really want to be a Death Eater like his father? Chain his life to Voldemort? He was only 16…a boy like Harry...

His vision was blurred and his lungs felt shrunken.

"It's the only way he won't kill my father!" Malfoy spat.

Harry didn't care for the boy's reasoning or why he felt like he needed to break the words out to him. All Harry knew was that he couldn't be taken to Voldemort and he wished against his fading strength that someone would come, anyone…

Harry could only shake his head and he had tried to move but as his left foot stepped down the pain in his side was excruciating. He put his shaking hand where the wound was and when it came away he could see that it was covered in blood.

"I have to," Malfoy breathed out heavily. Harry saw the conflicting thoughts race behind those gray eyes. "He won't spare us otherwise…"

Did Malfoy really know where Voldemort was? He doubted it. How did he plan to get them there? By train? Harry wondered, with another flash of panic, if the boy had been hiding his skill to Apparate that day. It was a desperate plan, a lone plan…

He couldn't die here, not before he saw the man, not now when he was so close to those words that thrived in his heart.

He moved and Malfoy fired another binding spell.

There was a flash of blue and Harry's eyes jerked to see the conjured Shield Charm that had burst before him. Harry found the caster. It was Professor Royle and he had come out from the trees, his wand in hand and he was glaring at Malfoy.

Royle shot a disarming spell but Malfoy blocked it just barely. The boy looked scared, cornered, frantic, ready to run.

Harry saw Malfoy reach into his coat and Royle raised his wand as Malfoy had flung something at the ground before them.

And all Harry saw was black. A thick black cloud like gunpowder had exploded everywhere. Harry heard the crunching of snow and he ran forward blindly, his sense of direction gone. Malfoy had shouted out a curse, he heard a streaking noise, like a whip through the air, a quick grunt and something warm splattered against his face so rapidly that he gasped, he slipped, he fell to his knees.

When he could see again, when the black smoke and filtered away, he found Royle, flat on his back, coughing. There was red on Harry's glasses, he could see it. There was blood all over his face, Royle's blood. The curse Malfoy cast had hit Royle. The Slytherin was nowhere to be seen. Panic swelled in his features as he noticed the deep gash underneath the blood, there was so much of it; the crimson was spattered against that pure white. Harry's breath was caught painfully in his throat. His trembling hands found Royle's wand in his right hand but he hadn't learned any healing spells, Hermione hadn't told him how…

He took off his coat swiftly and covered the wound with it. Royle was coughing, blinking fast, blood spilt down his chin. Harry pressed down on the wound and the man gasped harshly. Harry shook out his own breath.

"Go…" the man struggled, pain evident in his eyes. "Safe…get help…."

Harry was nodding numbly to every short word and found Royle's hands and he placed them over his coat. Then he was running again, the wound in his side somehow forgotten. He came out of the forest, speeding along the hills to the castle. Dusk surrounded him, the paling blue transforming to shadow.

Royle couldn't die. It was the only thought he had. Not one more. Not for him. Never again. Please.

Fear ignited his bones.

The giant heavy oak doors were feet away.

And he was through them and then his body had collided with another. The smell of fine cologne hit his nose with such alarm and he snapped his head up to see the one person he needed the most. It was Severus.

"Harry…" the man let out.

Behind them students were filing into the Great Hall for dinner.

"What's happened?" his voice shook. Those black eyes had registered the blood he was covered in, the panic in his face, his trembling form.

Harry could only grasp the man's hand in his own and pull. He tugged Severus forward and he was running again, with the man behind running as well. Severus was silent as he followed. They reached the forest and Harry trusted his feet to lead them back to where Royle's body lay.

When they found him his face was deathly pale but he was still breathing and Severus did not need an explanation. Harry just stood there in the bloodied snow, shivering, as he watched Severus's wand move about the man's wound. His body was knelt down at Royle's side. The song-like chant flaunted against his ears. The wound had closed. It felt like a dream.

Harry felt the need to vomit suddenly but held it down. When Severus was done he had conjured a stretcher for Royle who was unconscious now. When the man was on the stretcher Severus beckoned for Harry to follow and they made their way through the trees.

"Who was it?" Severus asked.

"Malfoy…" Harry managed to sign as he limped forward.

He could tell that the sight of him was worrying the man greatly.

"My wand is back there…somewhere…" Harry signed.

"Why were you in the Forbidden Forest?" Severus asked strictly.

"Clearing my head…" Harry found the words. His vision was growing darker then lighter. He had just passed out a day ago; Madame Pomfrey was going to throw a fit…

"And Malfoy?" Severus said.

"Gone…" Harry signed. "He said…he was going to take me to…him."

Severus's eyes narrowed. It wasn't long before they made it to the Hospital Wing. Things moved along like Harry had guessed they would. He had to strip of everything above his waist and he was given a few potions and his wound was healed.

His face had made Madame Pomfrey blanch horribly but soon it was cleaned as well. It was a relief to let his body lie down in the hospital bed as he watched Royle being treated. He had not woken up yet. By that time Dumbledore had been called a long with the rest of the Staff. Harry was questioned and he explained what Malfoy had done including his use of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder but leaving out the fact that he had used an Unforgivable though he could tell that Severus knew he wasn't telling the whole truth.

A few members of the Staff had gone off to search the Forbidden Forest and the castle to look for Malfoy. It was concluded, as Harry had thought, that Malfoy had acted alone. Hours later the boy hadn't been found. The only thing that had been found was Harry's wand which was returned to him.

Ms. Gardiner had visited Professor Royle who was still sleeping. She had left after an hour. He had watched her silently. Harry changed into his sleeping clothes and Madame Pomfrey had insisted he stay overnight. His side still ached dully as did his head. His mind was swimming with the fresh images of Royle's bloodied wound; he could still smell the blood.

When Madame Pomfrey had returned to her office and the ward was empty all but for Severus, Harry, and a slumbering Royle, Severus had sat down at his bedside. Harry's head was propped up with a few pillows. He was exhausted but he forced his eyes to stay open.

"How do you feel?" Severus asked gently.

"I'm ok…" Harry signed. "Just tired…"

"You need to be more careful," Severus whispered. The velvet-like tones tickled over his skin. There was desire in his heart, his body; the man's scent wasn't helping calm it. "I know you are not oblivious to the sons of certain Death Eaters that attend this school…Death Eaters who will do anything to remain in good standing with the Dark Lord—"

"Malfoy's just desperate to save his father—" Harry signed.

"Are you defending him?" Severus asked calmly.

"No," he signed. "I'm just saying…he's been scared…I mean…He just wants to save his family…"

Severus looked over Harry's defeated expression.

"All reasoning aside, you were lucky. His desperation hindered his focus," Severus said quickly. "He was sloppy. If he had gotten you passed the gates…" Severus's stare was dark and set on Harry's eyes. He didn't finish his sentence.

"He would have taken me to Bellatrix," Harry signed. And something inside of him bit at that idea; that he would be face to face with the one Death Eater who had killed his godfather.

"It was foolish of Draco to attempt such a thing…This will only anger the Dark Lord," Severus said in a low, poised tone.

"Will he kill him?" Harry signed hesitantly.

Severus let his gaze fall.

"No…" Severus said quietly. "The Dark Lord will mark him…"

Harry sat up slowly.

"He'll break them out…of Azkaban? Won't he? Like before," Harry signed.

"It's expected, soon," Severus said.

"What did you have to do for him? When he called that night—"

"You know I can't tell you," Severus replied.

"What is he planning?"

Severus lowered his eyes at Harry, leaning somewhat towards him.

"Harry—"

"Where do you go when he calls?"

"It isn't safe—"

"But I have to know, I'm the one—" Harry's hands were quivering.

"Enough," Severus hissed softly. "You are worrying over things that, at the moment, you have no control over. If I knew _any_ sort of information that would assist my efforts in keeping you safe I would not hesitate to enlighten you. I will speak no more on this matter."

Harry let the subject of Voldemort go; it was making the pain in his head hurt more. He knew that Voldemort preferred keeping all of his secrets sheathed until the proper moment…

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed as he looked over the man's form. He let a small amount of peace fall over him. He couldn't help but enjoy the straightness in Severus's posture, the slight wave in his hair, those ensnaring eyes, that tight white collar. He felt the blush fall across his cheeks. Now wasn't the time to taunt his hormones.

"It isn't your fault…" Severus spoke gently. "I am to blame for your negligence…I've caused you a great amount of stress…I should apologize."

"I don't want you to…" Harry signed. "I want…" But the words were gone before he could express them. In their place lay a field of emptiness and hopeful wonderings…

Severus blinked, his eyes resting upon Harry's. The man looked behind him, staring at the bed Royle occupied. He was still sleeping. He faced forward.

"Have you—" the man began.

"No," Harry shook his head. "But I will…"

Those black pools were pulling him again and he felt so small in that moment, so incomparable to this man. Severus knew so much, was so refined and wonderful. How did they look together? Their reflections, side by side, how would they look in this future that was so unknown? He felt naked, in this instant, completely bare all the way to his soul…

"I'm sorry…" he signed, his eyes stinging. "I hurt you by being with her…It was stupid of me…"

"You were just impatient with me…Which, considering how much of a…complete arse I've been..."

Harry couldn't stop the minute smile that seized his lips.

"It's only fair," Severus finished.

Harry continued to stare into the man's eyes for quite some time. He wondered if it was midnight yet. He wondered how long Severus would stay here. He realized he didn't want the man to go.

_Do you love me? _

And the question was there, floating about in his head like it had been for days upon days, just waiting, sleeping but he couldn't let it leave this comfortable place in his mind, where it was safe, where it was secret.

So instead he signed:

"I'll meet you…tomorrow…"

"Yes…" Severus whispered. "I should go, you need to rest."

The man stood.

Harry's heart drilled against his ribcage.

"Good night," Severus said delicately.

Harry could only nod. He still felt small.

In a few seconds the man had left. Harry was left feeling anxious and dumbfounded. He felt as if there were too many things to be done. But all he could do was wait for tomorrow.

* * *

He stared down at the purple colored certificate and its glimmering silver and red characters. His mind was all a jumble of the task that needed to be dealt with today. It was Saturday, December 7th and it was a Hogsmeade weekend. Harry felt like he would rather pass on it but he had derived that night before he went to bed in the Hospital Wing that he would go and he would take Cho and then he would break up with her.

He dreaded it but there were far worse things in the world; at least that's what he kept saying to himself.

The only bad thing was that Cho had found out about Royle's prizes to the winners of the Capture the Flag game via Luna and she knew that he possessed a certificate for one visit to Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop and insisted that's where they would have their "date".

Did she not remember what had happened last time they had gone there? On that terrible St. Valentine's Day? Maybe she had wanted to have a redo, a way of rectifying their first date that they had shared. Harry would never understand girls…

But it had been decided and he would go to Hogsmeade and do what needed to be done. He also couldn't forget the list of Christmas gifts he would need to shop for. He would get it done somehow…Ron had already gone to breakfast early (his attempt at having a few moments away from Lavender) and he was just now getting ready.

What was mainly on his mind was that he would see the man today and he didn't know what would come from it but like all the times before he wanted to look…nice for the man. Would it always frustrate him when he would choose what to wear? Did it even matter to Severus? Feeling foolish Harry had decided on dark jeans, a white long sleeve cotton shirt with a buttoned neckline, a dark gray button up shirt over that, and a heavy black winter coat.

Buttons; why did he like buttons so much?

Shaking his head of useless thoughts, he buttoned up his coat, grabbed his gloves and scarf, and slipped on his brown boots. And, with a ton of reluctance shackled to his body, he made his way down to the Great Hall.

On his way there Harry had realized the Christmas spirit had come alive throughout all of Hogwarts. As usual the suits of armor were charmed to sing carols, there were drapes of holly lit up by live fairies, rich, romantic colors of green and gold and red caught his eyes every which way. He admired the crystal ornaments and grew nervous when he saw just how much mistletoe had been hung.

The Great Hall had been transformed. Harry had to smile at the holiday environment. The 12 towering Christmas trees had been displayed and were currently being decorated by Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall. There were giant wreaths that adorned the walls with red silk ribbons, and snow floated down from the enchanted ceiling, disappearing feet above his head. It was dazzling, as always.

There were groups of those already forming to head off to the village. There were many eyes on him. Harry knew that Malfoy's sudden absence from the school had not gone unnoticed and a few people had seen his bloodied face full of panic, had seen him take their Potions Master off into the forest and come back with an injured Professor Royle. The Staff table was empty. When Harry had woken up that morning Professor Royle's bed was empty. Harry guessed the man had gone to his personal quarters. Harry hadn't yet thanked him for saving his life…

Harry found Cho waiting. She was seated at the Gryffindor table. She wore a navy blue coat, a waist high black skirt over black tights, ankle high black boots, a white knitted scarf and a matching hat. She had braided her hair to the side.

He couldn't find Hermione among the crowd. It was no surprise to Harry that she and Ron had been shocked to find out what Malfoy had done or had tried to do and when Hermione had wheedled out the list of his injuries she had been on the verge of tears. It was disappointing that the only way his two best friends could stand to be within five feet of each other was only when he had either been hurt or had almost died…

He tried to clear his head again. Ron and Hermione could come after he dealt with Cho…

Before he could head over to the girl she had seen him and hurried to greet him.

"Ready?" Harry signed, trying to smile but failing.

She nodded, grinning happily at him. She took his hand and they joined the group working their way to the entrance doors. In a matter of minutes Harry found himself trudging through the thick snow next to Cho.

He could tell Cho was not aware of what had happened to him. Like everyone else, she had only heard the rumors. Luckily for Harry, she did not question him.

He found it difficult to listen to her talk as they walked along the road leading to Hogsmeade because all he could think about was what her face would look like in reaction to his words which he still hadn't put together. He felt wretched.

When they reached the snow enveloped village Cho had wanted to go in the many shops that lined the cobblestone street that had been plowed so visitors could walk without slipping. After an hour they had both done some Christmas shopping and they had sent their packages through the Owl Post. He had caught Ron and Lavender in one of the shops that sold mostly trinkets and charmed jewelry. He had even seen Neville and Luna together in Honeydukes.

They wandered around Dominic Maestro's and Gladrags Wizardwear. Harry's nerves were growing ragged and his heartbeat would speed up dramatically when Cho would look him in the eyes. He felt bad for dragging it out like this. He had to keep telling himself he deserved this sort of suffering.

When they had come to Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop Harry's nerve was deteriorating. The cozy shop was, as it had always been, a hot spot for couples. He held back his grimace when they had reached the pink door. Harry opened the door for Cho and the little bell above rang its welcome. When they entered the sight of the tea shop was exactly as Harry had remembered it but without the flying golden chubby cherubs and their heart-shaped confetti…

The windows were steamy and there were only a few tables left. Harry couldn't help but glance over each couple who were sitting so closely together, holding hands, snogging, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears…He saw Dean and Ginny in a corner. Ginny's eyes had flashed with dismay when they fell upon Harry.

They took a seat at a round table nearest the door. It was decorated with a white lacey table cloth and set upon the table were pink tea cozies and a bowl of sugar cubes. Cho had moved her chair a bit to sit adjacent to him. She took his right hand in hers and intertwined their fingers together. There was a pinching feeling in his chest. There was heat in his cheeks. The displays of affection that surrounded him were making him dizzy. The place smelt of a strong perfume.

They had ordered two cups of tea and two slices of cake. Cho had wanted red velvet, Harry had chosen white cake. When they were served Harry ate his slice slowly, staring down at the vanilla frosting and the candy heart in the middle, barely feeling the small dessert fork in his hand.

He would glance at her as she talked quietly and every time he did he was only reminded of how disastrous their first date had been. And because of him it was bound to repeat itself.

He thought of two things:

He was just wasting her time.

Severus would never step foot in a place like this.

"Your eyes really are wonderful."

Cho's sudden comment had brought the world around him back into focus and the sounds of the bustling tea shop stormed into his ears. Harry's cheeks reddened. His hands were stuck at the sides of his dessert plate. The fork was quivering in his right.

"You don't have to be nervous…" Cho said softly. "I wanted to say…I'm sorry for how everything turned out before…"

Their knees touched. She had gotten closer to him. There was a blush in her cheeks. To anyone else she would have looked very beautiful in this moment…He had trouble keeping his eyes off of her hat.

"We weren't very close…before," she was saying. "I was shy…"

Harry took a bite of his cake quickly, as if to distract himself from the situation he was in. She watched him intently as he chewed and swallowed. He hadn't tasted it. He could hardly breathe. The fork made a small clatter as he let it go upon the plate. He had to tell her. She didn't love him so it wouldn't be too bad…she didn't love him…

But she was kind and sweet and gentle and those eyes…She cared for him, authentically.

Cho had smiled and her hand had come up and Harry kept very still as her thumb brushed so lightly against his bottom lip. Harry hadn't noticed just how close she was to him.

"You had some sugar…" she almost whispered.

The next moment she was leaning in, her eyes had closed; her hand had come away from his face and her lips, glossed and rose-pink were awaiting his. His heart was a drummer in his chest, frenzied, his breath was held; his shoulders tense, his hands gripped his knees.

He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to see tears in her eyes.

It was his fault. This wasn't right. How could he have gambled with her feelings like this?

Her lips were waiting.

And so was Severus.

Harry bowed his head and Cho had opened her eyes. Her expression grew perplexed and worried. Harry had taken out the certificate slip from his pocket and placed it on the table with a clumsy hand. Then he was standing, moving, walking around her and he was out the door, the bell tinkling forcefully above him. His eyes stung as he saw the blue sky above briefly and the bright sunlight fell upon his cheek. With numb legs he had moved over to the stoned bench that was set below the last window of the tea shop.

He sat down. He was angry with himself. Like he had expected Cho had come out and she reached him with measured paces. She took a seat on his right.

"Harry? What's wrong?" she asked carefully.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed. He couldn't look at her. And he didn't understand how Ginny could sit in there with Dean and kiss him knowing that she had flirted countless times with Harry during Quidditch practice…He didn't understand how a person could deal with this sort of mastering guilt.

"Harry…" she called gently.

He looked to her finally and he could see the realization in her eyes, the hurt in them, the disillusionment and he had hated himself right then.

"You don't really want to be together, do you?" Cho said.

"I'm sorry," he could only mouth the words. Harry's expression was one of anguish.

"Why? Why would you…?" Cho began with such softness in her voice. "Was it to make someone jealous?"  
Harry shook his head quickly. Her eyes grew pained.

"I don't understand…" Cho said. Her eyes were watery.

"It's complicated…" Harry signed. He felt pathetic.

"Do you love someone?" she asked.

Harry hesitated, his vision shaking upon her face, her eyes were expectant, she wanted to know.

He nodded. A minute passed. Neither had known how to respond.

"They didn't believe we could be together…" Harry signed slowly. His vision was blurred. The tears were hot and his heart ached. "They thought I deserved someone better…" He didn't know how to explain it to her but he tried to make it all make sense. "I wanted to make them see…that it was a mistake…I wanted them to realize…how much it would hurt…"

Cho's eyes had gained tears and he could tell she understood him but it didn't make the truth any less painful.

"I know it was wrong…I didn't want to hurt you…I wasn't thinking…" Harry signed quickly. "I didn't think…with all these other girls…I just thought you…"

"That I was carried away with them…" Cho said.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed, shaking his head. He blinked away the building tears.

"You didn't think I could fall in love with you?" Cho asked.

"No…and I didn't think you belonged with me…" Harry signed.

Cho had looked away and she was silent for a long moment.

"I don't love you…" she said and it was barely audible. Her eyes sprung to look into his. "But I do like you…" She held the end of her coat, looking down, blinking away tears. "I mean…everyone does…I guess I thought I could fall in love with you…" She looked to him and gave him a sad smile.

"I'm so sorry…I would never mean to hurt you…" Harry signed.

"It's alright," Cho said softly. "I mean, I'll be alright…"

"I want you to know…you're wonderful," Harry signed, his eyes sincere. "You're pretty and smart and I really like you…as a friend…"

"You're sweet," she said, smiling still. "I'll always be your friend Harry."

"Thank you…"

"I'll miss us being together…you really are very kind," Cho said gently. "Cedric even thought so…"

Harry's eyes fell to stare at his hands.

"Will you tell me who she is?" she said. "Her name?"

Harry stared at her. The sound of his heart filled his ears.

"I'm not in love with a girl."

Hermione had told him to be honest.

Cho's eyes had widened somewhat, her cheeks reddened.

"Oh…" was the only sound she made.

Harry waited.

Cho had tried but she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face.

Harry copied her.

"I guess that makes me feel a bit better…" Cho said and she laughed lightly.

Harry let his head fall. He hadn't expected such an outcome. He felt relief wash over him.

"Does he know?" she asked suddenly.

Harry looked at her. Her dark brown eyes were calm.

Harry shook his head.

"If you love someone, you should tell them…" Cho said kindly. She had stood and bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you, Harry."

In the next second he was watching her walk towards The Three Broomsticks. He rose from the bench slowly. Her words had freed something within him. His heart was shaking with it.

Before he knew it he had started to run. He had rushed by Ginny and Dean who were just exiting the tea shop. He was a blur to many onlookers. Ron and Lavender were walking up ahead, hand in hand. He ran in-between them, breaking them apart.

He couldn't stop, he wouldn't stop. There was somewhere he needed to be, somewhere he would always be. He could see Severus's face so clearly in his mind, so perfect and real and it was the only thing that mattered to him. He had thought of the immense amount of loneliness he had felt without him, how unbearable it had been, how it had spread like venom through his veins every day and he hated it, he loathed it with everything he had.

He couldn't live a life like that. He wouldn't be bitter, he wouldn't age with such bitterness, he would not live a life of regret—

He had slipped. He tumbled forward, he was gasping for air. It was windy and freezing cold. He could feel it, the emerging second thoughts, the great fear that had been latched to that future, the doubt that always threatened to murder his hope, that hope that was held in their hands, that shared warmth but he banished it all away; this fear and this doubt, they were dead to him.

This love had always been his only hope. He wouldn't stop. Not now, he was so close…

So he ran faster; down the road, under the bare, dark branches of the trees, through the radiant snow, over the leaps of shadows and the blaring sunlight that skated through them. His soul felt free. He couldn't tell if he was tired. He could only hear his quivering breath and lunging heart. There were no limits.

He was racing toward Severus and when he got there he would tell the man, he would tell him everything.

He flew by the gates and Filch and his secrecy sensor. He tore across the grounds and in moments he was through the giant oak doors of the castle. He flew down the spiral stairs that led to the dungeons, the stone walls echoed with his footsteps. He took the memorized twists and turns. He reached the office door. His hand caught the handle, he twisted it and it opened. The door swung forward and he had to lock his knees to prevent himself from falling over.

And he stood there in the doorway. He was gasping for breath, there was a stitch in his side, his face was flushed and hair windswept. His whole body was trembling. The bottoms of his jeans were wet from the snow.

He took in the scene before him. Severus was standing in the middle of his office. He had his robes and overcoat off, white dress shirt as pressed as ever, that composed face staring at him. He had his wand held in his right hand. Harry's vision wavered over what was hovering in the air before the man.

It was the Pensieve. Its sapphire glow was cast over Severus's form, reflecting in those richly black eyes making them a midnight blue.

The adrenaline had all but dissolved in his body leaving it feeling dazed, his thoughts bolting about in his head. The floating Pensieve had sent his mind reeling back to that day, to that memory. Trepidation took hold of his weary heart and questions began to bounce up in his mind. Harry grabbed his scarf and pulled it away slowly from his neck, his eyes never leaving the silver bowl.

"Harry," Severus called lightly.

"Sorry…I didn't knock…" Harry signed. His hands were numb from cold and shaking.

"It's fine…" Severus said.

Harry had turned and closed the door and locked it. He held his scarf tightly in his hands as he faced the man once again.

"Come here," Severus said.

Harry nodded his head once out of habit and forced his unsteady legs to work; it felt like all the strength had escaped his body somehow.

A fire was lit in the hearth. He stood before Severus who had pocketed his wand. The minutes following Harry found a challenge to keep up with or to find reason for them. Severus had taken his scarf from him and had hung it over the chair by the fire. Then he had come close to Harry and Harry's eyes, polished with firelight over the vibrant blue, looked up to meet those deep pools.

Severus brushed the back of his hair with his hand, fingers skating through his short locks. A shiver chased through his spine. He still felt breathless. Harry closed his eyes when the man placed a warm hand upon the side of his face, feeling his wind burned cheeks that were bright red. The hand journeyed down; fingers traced his jaw line, his bottom lip, his chin. Harry opened his eyes to stare at what was right in front of him, Severus's chest, the line of clear buttons on his dress shirt.

Both of the man's hands were on him, unbuttoning his coat and sliding it off of his body. Harry stood where he was as Severus hung it over his scarf. He came close again, never speaking, only touching. All Harry could hear was his own shy breath, his lips were parted, his eyes locked on Severus's face. He couldn't move. Fingertips brushed against his neckline, the collar of his shirt, undoing a few of the dark gray buttons to reveal the shirt underneath.

His expression was hardly readable. But Harry could see that there was something buried there; a longing, a desperate longing. What was the man wishing for? Severus had changed since that night in the dark corridor, drastically.

A hand brushed through his bangs. Harry's eyes fluttered and then they were fixated on the depth in that shining black. Severus's hands returned to his sides. The invading anxiousness in Harry's body could not be quelled.

"Harry…" he said hesitantly. "There is something I want to show you…something I must show you…We…can't move forward until I do…until you know…until there is nothing in-between us anymore…"

Harry's eyes searched through the man's expression. He didn't know what to feel or think about. There was no fear in him. He had let fear go on his running path, had let it slip away through the frosty winds that rushed by him. And what appeared underneath all that fear was courage, all of his courage that had somehow fled away long ago and there was purpose, his own purpose for the reasons he still fought for, for the life within him that he still fought for, the man before him that he would always fight for…

"Only after you know can we really begin…together," Severus said with such delicacy and Harry could almost feel the words glide over his skin. "Only after you know…can I finally reach you…"

He was confused about what those words meant. And those eyes had changed or rather there was nothing hiding the emotions that lay behind them, as if they were uncovered like a blindfold, like clouds that blocked the sun, like a curtain keeping the darkness inside a room…

Harry could see the hurt in them, the quiet, withdrawn hope, and a plead, naked and true.

"May I kiss you?" Severus asked in a rising whisper.

Harry nodded even though he was so distracted by the man's eyes.

Severus leaned down. Harry let his eyes fall shut. It was a slow instant before the man's lips met his own carefully, tenderly and it had felt like the first time and Harry felt such sorrow bleed through his heart, like the feeling one gets when it comes time to send a farewell, unwanted, forfeited and weightless.

He came away and Harry opened his eyes cautiously as if the man would have somehow disappeared but Severus was there, standing, moving toward the Pensieve.

"Please…" he said. "I want you to see…" Severus had gestured to the silver bowl.

Harry took the few steps forward, glancing up at the man's face that was cast in the blue glow before facing the Pensieve.

"No matter what…stay until the end," Severus said softly.

Harry was shivering. He saw the swirling memory inside, waiting for him. He held the bowl's rim with both hands on either side. He cleared his thoughts, he tried to ready his heart and then he dived.

He fell into summer.

His feet found the stretch of sun stained grass that lay before him. When he straightened himself he could see that he was in a playground. The sky above was a lazy blue, cloudless with the fierce sun high up above. Beyond the playground lay many houses. He stood behind a cluster of bushes, their lilac colored flowers bent and wilting.

Before him was a swing set. Harry was not alone here. Sitting upon one of the swings was a little girl. Her head was bowed; her hair was long and such a dark red. The rays of the sun made it stand out against her fair skin. She wore a simple baby blue dress and white sandals. Her hands held the chains lightly. She was perhaps nine or ten years of age. She was crying. Harry could hear her soft sobs.

He heard a snap of a twig to his right and was quickly startled to realize that there was another child with him. He was hiding behind the bushes. He was skinny with black hair that needed a trim, the jeans he wore were too short and holey, his graying jumper too big and scratchy, his white torn trainers were no longer white.

Harry moved closer to the boy. Of course it was Severus, a ten year old Severus. He was pale, small, stringy but those black eyes stood out more than anything. They were set, focused on the little girl on the swing. They were full of obvious greed.

The boy stood swiftly as if a rush of bravery had overtaken him. He walked out of the safety of the bushes. He was headed toward her.

Harry followed.

The ten year old Severus stopped just before the girl. Harry stood next to him. The girl on the swing lifted her head up quickly in surprise and Harry's breath was caught in his throat. Though masked over by glistening tears her eyes were unmistakable. He had seen them many times before and no matter if they had looked older the shape and color was remarkably distinctive.

They were his eyes on his mother's face. Lily. Lily Potter, or rather, here she was Lily Evans.

That blue was shockingly vibrant, so alive and pure. The boy, Severus, seemed to have held his own breath as he witnessed them, as he, so evidently, enjoyed them. A blush had been born over his cheeks. Lily's face was flushed and slightly startled by the boy's sudden appearance.

"I've seen you before," Lily said quietly. She sniffed. "You live by the river…down Spinner's End."

Severus stood there, nervous, uncomfortable and hot in his itchy jumper but he seemed to be hiding the simple fact that he was overly happy to hear her voice directed at him, to have been noticed by her…

He only nodded.

"You don't have to cry…" Severus spoke, trying to keep his voice steady. "She just doesn't understand…"

"You saw?" Lily said, her voice growing stronger. "Were you spying?"

"No, not spying," Severus replied quickly, shaking his head.

"But you saw what I did?" Lily asked.

"Yeah…" Severus admitted.

Lily had turned her head away, her eyes glaring at the grass.

"It's _not_ freakish…" she said assertively. "I'm not a freak."

"Of course you're not," Severus said. He could hardly contain himself. "You're a witch."

Lily's head snapped up, her eyes glowering sternly up at Severus.

"That is not a very nice thing to say to somebody!"

She had been about to get up from the swing.

"No!" Severus said, raising his hands. His cheeks were deeply reddened now. "You've got it wrong!"

Lily stared hard at him, at his clothes, considering him, but Harry could see the judgment vanish from her eyes, could see the curiosity take over them. She seated herself again. Severus hesitated but slowly sat in the swing next to her.

"What do you mean then?" Lily asked.

"You _are_ a witch. I've been watching you for…a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard."

Lily's eyes broadened, growing mystified and Harry could see that Severus was enjoying every minute of their encounter, that he impressed her.

"Really?" Lily said. The tears were gone from her eyes, replaced by wonder. "You're not joking?"

"Show me," Severus said. "What you did before, show me."

Lily's expression grew cautious but she had hopped from the swing. Harry had moved out of her way a bit, watching her pick up a small pink flower bud from the ground. She was excited; Harry could see it in her thin shoulders. She faced Severus, holding out the bud in her right palm, looking down. Severus and Harry watched the small flower bloom.

She looked up at him, waiting for a certain kind of fear to reveal itself in his eyes but there was only a growing delight. Severus took the flower from her hand, the blush powerful over his face, and he held it in his hand, staring down like Lily had done. The petals of the flower had begun to open and close, and then one by one the petals flapped and then the pink blossom spun, twirling as it rose up in the air.

Lily and Severus had started to laugh, their eyes on the floating flower. Their laugher filled up the playground.

The scene changed, the colors of the park around him swirled together and Harry's heart felt shallow like a pond.

It was the park again but it was dusk. Lily wore a white dress this time, her hair held back with a bright yellow clip. Severus was clad in fading black trousers that were too big for him and that old jumper again. They were next to each other on the swings, Lily had just come to a stop and Severus was pushing himself lightly with the toes of his ragged trainers.

"It is real, isn't it? Petunia says you're lying. Petunia says that there's no such place as Hogwarts," Lily said.

"She's just jealous, because you're special and she's ordinary," Severus said.

"That's mean Severus," Lily said gently.

Harry could see that the boy's cheeks had gone red as Lily had said his name.

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll get our letters soon, and our wands."

Lily had smiled and in the fading light of the sun Severus could take in her young beauty secretly…

"Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?" she asked after an extended moment of silence.

Harry caught the indecision in Severus's black eyes but they had looked over her form, the innocence in that charming blue, the deep red of her hair, the daisy colored ribbons on her dress…

"No," Severus said. "It doesn't make any difference."

"Good," Lily said quietly. The worry was gone from her features.

Severus had leaned back in the swing, straightening his body to lie parallel with the ground. His eyes skated over the puffy white clouds.

"How are things at your house?" Lily asked.

"Fine…" Severus muttered.

"Are they arguing still?" she said.

"They always argue…" Severus said. "But it won't be that long…and I'll be gone." Harry could see the reveries beginning to take over the boy's mind, promises of escape…

"Doesn't your dad like magic?" Lily asked gently.

"He doesn't like anything, much," Severus replied dryly.

"Severus?" Lily called happily.

"Yeah?" Severus had smiled at the sound of her voice saying his name.

"I bet I can fly higher than you this time," she said with a grin.

The boy only continued to smile as he straightened himself on his seat and they had both started to swing, higher and higher and the scene changed and Lily's dying childhood laughter had latched onto Harry's chest.

The scenery rebuilt itself, the swirls of color spreading out against his eyes. He found himself standing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

Lily and Severus stood together in the group of First Years all in their robes and uniforms; Severus was at last free from that dreadful jumper. There was an air of mixed excitement and apprehension about them as they waited to be sorted.

And Harry witnessed Lily being sorted into Gryffindor and Severus into Slytherin. He saw the disappointment fall over Severus like a net, saw his father, the 11 year old James Potter join Lily's side and they were introduced, a rowdy young Sirius Black shaking her hand from across the table, the child Remus Lupin smiling politely at them, a cowardly looking young Peter Pettigrew fanning down the excitement to have not been sorted somewhere else…

The memories flickered by Harry, faster and water-like as if they were rain puddles and he saw them together, Lily and Severus, always together, gifted students, partners in Potions, late nights in the library, studying, competitive in Charms and Transfiguration…He saw them age, he saw them in Hogsmeade when they were 13 in the warm sweet light of Honeydukes, he saw them building a snowman together in winter, their secret laughter they shared under the beech tree, but he saw James as well, sabotaging moments where they were in the company of each other, throwing Severus's books down in a corridor, winking back at Lily's angered face, he saw the many cruel ways James and Sirius had tried to jinx their friendship, literally at times. He saw, through the flashes, Lucius Malfoy living in the background as well along with other shadowed eyes as they kept them on Severus…

The memories flew by with hypnotizing speed and Harry could only catch them briefly as a story was being unfolded before him, its pages blurring by. There was a pinhole in his heart. The realization of it all was flocking over Harry's senses madly. He wanted to hide, to hide in the darkness between each memory; he didn't want to see anymore.

But he stayed.

And the scene changed, a long corridor rolling out before him like a carpet. Severus and Lily were walking across the courtyard, right passed Harry. Harry hurried to walk behind them to listen. As he did this he noticed that Severus was taller than him now and Lily had grown too. They were 15.

"…thought we were supposed to be friends," Severus had been saying. "Best friends?" Harry couldn't help but be surprised at the maturity of his voice, it had not yet the velvet-like qualities he had grown so fond of but it wasn't a child's voice either; it was like his own voice. He wasn't so much as handsome but his black eyes were brilliant in contrast with his moonlit skin…

And Lily was beautiful, extraordinarily so. Harry could see the difference between them as they were next to each other. Lily was more like a painting, bright and colorful, like the spring, while Severus's pallet was black and white, the colors of a storm, the mood of one as well…

But Harry was entranced by him.

"We _are, _Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging round with! I'm sorry but I detest Avery and Mulciber! What do you see in them, Sev, they're so creepy! Do you know what Mulciber tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?" Lily had snapped. She had reached a pillar, leaning against it, looking up into Severus's face.

"That was nothing," Severus said. "It was a laugh, that's all—"

"It was Dark Magic, and if you think that's funny—" Lily began hotly.

"What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?" Severus demanded. Harry wasn't oblivious to the resentment in his eyes.

"What's Potter got to do with anything?" Lily said.

"They sneak out at night. There's something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going?"

"They say he's ill…" Lily said quickly.

"Every month on the full moon?" Severus said. There was color in his face as he was getting too worked up over the subject of James Potter.

"Why are you so obsessed with them?" Lily said coldly. "Why do you care what they're doing at night?"

"I'm just trying to show you they're not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are," Severus said and the intensity of his gaze made her blush. Harry felt the heat in his own face.

"They don't use Dark Magic, though," Lily whispered. "And you're being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went to the Whomping Willow, into the tunnel and Potter saved you from whatever's down there—"

Severus's face contorted in anger.

"Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends' too! You're not going—I won't let you—"

"Let me? _Let me?" _Lily was livid, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Severus recoiled instantly.

"I didn't mean...I just don't want to see you made a fool of…He fancies you! Potter fancies you!" Severus had forced the words out and jealousy flashed in that deep black. "He's so full of himself! Everyone thinks…big Quidditch hero—"

Harry grimaced at the bitterness in Severus's voice. There was so much of it that it had him jumping over his own words.

"I know Potter's an arrogant toerag," Lily snapped. "You don't have to tell me that. But Mulciber's and Avery's idea of humor is just evil. _Evil, _Severus. I don't understand how you can be friends with them."

Harry knew Severus wasn't paying attention anymore. He had watched his eyes glaze over with a certain amount of content as soon as she had insulted James. Harry watched them walk away, watched the spring in Severus's step.

The understanding of it all was crushing but his mind grew blank.

The scene washed away and brand new colors streaked in. More memories began to blaze in and out of focus as Harry fell through them, his head spinning. He saw Severus and how he had always secretly looked at her from Slytherin table during meal times, a moment where Avery and Mulciber had cornered him, demanding to know why he was always at her side, questioning his loyalty, he saw Severus walking with a group of them, he recognized the younger faces of certain Death Eaters, he saw Avery jinx a young Gryffindor girl in the deserted corridor, he watched Severus smirk along with the rest of them, and he observed them all in the Slytherin common room, in their circle, preaching about pureblooded societies, of muggleborns who deserved to be cast out of Hogwarts; Severus's expression had been so fastened…

The next memory that smeared out before him was one he chose not to watch because it was one he had already seen, what he thought had been Severus's worst memory, he walked away through the grass, passing the scene by the beech tree, he heard the man, or boy in this instant, shout at her in his humiliation and fury, the unforgivable word: "_Mudblood." _Harry's heart filled with disdain and he didn't want to think, didn't want to comprehend what he had already figured out.

The outside changed into the inside and he found himself in the dim lit corridor of Gryffindor Tower. He saw Lily in her dressing gown and a red cardigan standing before Severus who was still in his uniform and robes.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care."

"I'm sorry!"

"Save your breath."

Lily's arms were crossed, her hair splayed over her shoulders. Her eyes, like diamonds reflected in the ocean, were dead set on Severus's pleading gaze.

"I would never mean to call you Mudblood, it just—" Severus began with whispered desperation.

"Slipped out?" Lily said callously. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. Not one of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends—you see? You don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

Severus had opened his mouth but no words could be said. He closed it. There was such confliction in his eyes. Harry watched them, his heart pounding in his chest. Severus remained silent as Lily looked him over. Gone was the childhood innocence between them, gone was that laughter that they had shared when they were small…

"I won't pretend anymore," Lily said with finality. "You've chosen your way. I've chosen mine."

"No…please, Lily, I didn't mean…" Harry could tell that the boy was trying to save what was already lost.

"To call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

Lily had turned, her long hair swaying and Severus had been rooted to the spot. She was gone through the portrait hole. Harry stayed to watch Severus's face long enough to see the guilt and agony wash over him like a merciless crashing wave…

Then he was falling again; through a channel of memories, through light and shadow, through sunrises and nightfall, a mixture of memories all hitting him at once: Severus as a young boy standing before a burly, angry man hurtling glass bottles throughout the room in a drunken rage, Harry witnessed, with hasty horror, the man strike the child Severus across his face and the man was bellowing "I don't want to see it! I DON'T ever want to see you practicing that shite again!"

He saw the man in his violence and drunkenness torment the boy and his weak hearted mother. He heard it all, felt the anger, the fear, the hatred, it pooled inside of him as rough as thunder and he wanted it to stop but he kept falling, kept searching to see it all, to know the darkness in the man's heart, he had to, he couldn't look away.

And down he went, as fast as ever with nothing to hold on to. Years upon years of child abuse, of sinking, wretched loneliness, of a learnt cruelty, of wasted, hated tears in the dull hours of the night, summer after summer returned to that house, to those empty, creaking rooms of dust and draftiness, the familiar smell of alcohol and tobacco, the well-known sounds of heavy boots on dirtied wood, of smashing glass, of screams and of shouting, of fisted skin striking against her fragile self, of her pitiful sobs on the kitchen floor. Harry tasted the sweat and blood, tasted the burnt toast in the mornings, the charcoal on overcooked meat, spoilt milk, crumbs in a crisp bag...

He saw what Severus had seen; opening the bathroom door to find his mother, bent over the running sink, turning to face him with a sorrowful and regretting smile, her eyes swollen and bruised, nose bloody, her wand shaking in her hand.

He felt what Severus felt and he wanted to break apart, to never feel anything again.

These memories ate at him without mercy but he would not close his eyes.

He was sinking.

It was cold and it was dark but then there was warmth, her warmth, Lily's. There was longing there with her, there was hope and there was happiness that existed in those summers.

And there was love.

His great love for Lily.

He felt how it had been when they were children, greedy yet naive; he felt how it had changed throughout the years; obsessive, compulsive, something out of habit, so trained, so hungry but so hidden, so unrequited and vicious. There was jealousy, heaving jealousy, ugly and withered. But still, he loved her in secret, in their shadows the sun created when they would walk, side by side, in moments where he so desperately wanted to take hold of her pretty hand, in the scent of her flowery perfume, in the natural blushing of her cheeks, in her kind laughter, her stunning smile, her whit and skill, her very magic, and the caring beauty of her wondrous, bright eyes.

He had loved her with everything, to his very soul.

There was pitch black and then there was fire, a giant, roaring fire and a circle of their hooded, masked faces all bearing down on him, and his face, Voldemort, dangerous and wicked, he felt immense pain and he saw the red fire burst forth, wrapping itself around Severus's left forearm, he heard Severus scream, he saw the fire turn black, he saw, charred in the man's skin, the Dark Mark bleeding over that moonlight…

Harry felt the obliterating regret and cowardly fear weighted in the man's gut.

And then there was snow and he saw Severus walking through the slush of an alley. He was cloaked and bowing somewhat, he looked thinner. He stopped at the end of the alley, keeping to the shadows as the luminescence of Christmas spirit littered Hogsmeade. Harry wondered what the man was spying on. He stood next to the man; he was shivering along with him. Harry took a moment to stare at the blinking fairy lights, the holly, he smelt cinnamon and sugar, he saw how crowded the village was, a tall Christmas tree in the square.

He found what Severus was staring so intently at.

It was Lily, his mother, and it was James, his father. They were hand in hand, smiling and laughing, Lily was singing; they must have just been stepping into adulthood…

The scene changed swiftly.

He was dropped onto a windy hilltop. It was night and Harry saw Severus, out of breath and looking every which way, his wand out before him. Harry jumped as a blinding jet of white light flew through the air. Severus had dropped to his knees, the holy light basking over him. His wand flew out of his hand.

"Don't kill me!"

"That was not my intention."

It was Dumbledore. He stood before Severus, his cloak a very powdery blue. He looked much healthier than the Dumbledore Harry was used to seeing.

"Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"

"No message—I'm here on my own account!" Severus said and his hands were clenched together. His eyes looked a bit crazed. The wind tossed around his waved, black hair. "I come with a warning—no, a request, please!"

"And what request could a Death Eater make of me?"

"The prophecy! Trelawney's prediction!" the man said eagerly.

"How much did you relay to Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Everything I heard!" Severus confessed, his eyes forlorn. "That is why…it is for that reason—he thinks it means Lily Evans!"

"The prophecy did not refer to a woman, it spoke of a boy born at the end of July," Dumbledore said.

"You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he means to hunt her down, to kill them all—"

"If she means so much to you, surely Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?"

"I have—I have asked him," the admitting words were wrung from his throat. Severus's form was trembling.

Harry felt his eyes sting badly.

"You disgust me," Dumbledore said with laden contempt.

Severus could only bow his head.

"Hide her, hide them all," Severus croaked. "I beg you."

"What will you give me in exchange?" Dumbledore said; those knowing eyes serene.

Severus was silent for a short moment.

"Anything." He gave up the word. Those black eyes were shaded with desolation.

The hilltop faded away. The shadows churned before him, lifting up with gusts of winds and collected together until another scene constructed around Harry. He closed his eyes. When he opened them he stood in Dumbledore's office. Harry took a step back at what he saw, almost falling. It was Severus, crumpled on the floor; he was sobbing loudly, his cloak splayed out around him.

Professor Dumbledore was standing by the large windows, the light of the moon overlapping him, chasing away the shadows around him. His back was to Severus, his hands leaning on the sill, his head down as if in prayer. It was a while before Severus had raised his head. Harry didn't want to see his face. He knew what night this was; he knew what had happened…

"You said…you would keep her _safe_," the man breathed out. His voice, that silk was laced in agony.

"Lily and James put their faith in the wrong person," Dumbledore spoke in a grave tone. "Rather like you…"

Severus had stood, shakily on his feet; he practically fell against the wall beside him, using it for support. His breathing was labored. His shoulders shook with such torturous grief. Harry kept to the darkness by the door. He wanted to leave, he had had enough but he couldn't, as if his presence would give this memory Severus some kind of comfort…

"Her son lives. He has her eyes…" Dumbledore said softly.

"DON'T!" Severus shouted. "She's gone…dead…"

"Is this your remorse, Severus?"

"I wish _I _were dead," Severus choked out. His head was titled down, his hands grabbing at the wood of the wall behind him, clutching at it. The guilt and the grief slithered onto Harry's skin and he couldn't stand it.

"The boy will need protection…"

"The boy does not need protection, the Dark Lord is gone!"

"The Dark Lord will return…and when he does the boy will be in terrible danger," Dumbledore pressed as he had turned around to meet the man in the eyes. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear. Let her death not be in vain…"

Harry stared hard at the man's back. He didn't want to look at Dumbledore or the moon or anything else. His hands were shaking.

"No one can know…" Severus spoke slowly in a low, quivering tone.

And he was falling, spiraling through memories once more and he felt sick, felt alone, and a great hopelessness flew through him. He wanted to curl up inside himself, to shrink into nothing.

He saw him; he saw Severus's form, slinking through the dim hallway he now stood in, his face becoming hidden in shadow. Harry felt dizzy. Wherever he was felt broken and slanted. There were doors, curtained windows. His mind reeled.

There was a storm outside. The hallway flashed with lightning. He saw the light at the end of the hall, cast over a bright orange cupboard. He had noticed the carpeted floor was littered with splinters of wood.

Severus stepped passed him and Harry watched him enter the lit room cautiously. He saw, upon the wall, the man's silhouette fall and he heard a loud thump. Harry pushed his legs forward. Time felt still in the dusty air. He came to the open door. His breath was stolen from his body. Inside the room Severus was weeping with overwhelming heartache, sitting on the floor, the body of his dead mother, of Lily, was cradled limply in his arms.

His mind spun, his vision blurred.

This had been his home. And his mother on that night…

How long had she laid there? And his father? Surely he was dead before her…

It was his room. He saw his crib, he saw himself as a baby, his infant blue tearful eyes staring at the stranger and his mother. The doorway was broken, unhinged, fractured. His room had been torn up but the colors were so vibrant, orange and yellow like the rising sun. The lamp had been shattered, he was engulfed in the luminescence, the faces of his stuffed toys on shelves above seemed to leer at him tragically.

He staggered backward, slipping on nothing, and he was plummeting down, deeper and deeper, the memories still lived around him. When would it end?

_No more!_ He shouted inside of his mind.

But he saw still, the Great Hall and its numerous floating candles and Severus seated at the Staff table looking down upon his 11 year old self. His eyes, big and curious stared back.

He felt what Severus felt.

He was thrown into the man's aching guilt, his debilitating grief, the bitterness rising like a flood, the hatred resurrected, alive and pulsing in his veins. It was all because of his face but his eyes, bright, so bright like the wintry sky, like topaz, like the ocean…Brought with these eyes was the constant, lasting reminder of his love for her, of his murdering, unyielding regret he had for her, of a life he could have had, if only, if only, if only…

He felt the man's breaking sorrow, felt the pain as if his bones were shattering; hatred and love, wondering how old they could become through his years.

Harry wanted to scream, to scream at Severus as if he hated the man.

He saw his dreams of her, of her smiling at him, she looked so kind. And then a nightmare, Severus's body knee deep in a substance that looked like tar, as black as ink. Flowers floated all around them, lilies, white and clean and they were all catching fire and before him, in the muck, was Voldemort, his wicked smile bearing down upon Severus, a face he could never forget, the servitude he could never be free from…

He had pulled himself away from the man's memories with such force he reared backward, tripping over his own two feet. The Pensieve had spun forward swiftly before it came to a stop. Harry hit the stoned floor hard. His heart was pounding madly, he struggled to breathe. His body ached, he felt like he had been submerged for ages…

"Harry…"

He jerked at the sound; his eyes had begun to swim with tears as he found Severus's face, looking down at him with concern.

The moments following were rapid and almost violent.

He had clambered to his knees, pushing himself up to stand quickly but before he could straighten himself to run, to escape the man Severus had grabbed him, he had thrown his arms around Harry's waist. Harry hit the floor, his elbows crashing against the stone. Severus held tightly. Harry pushed with all he had, gritting his teeth, scraping at the floor with his hands, kicking out his legs and feet but to no avail.

"I'm not letting go!" Severus hissed in his ear. "Not until you agree to listen to me!"

Harry didn't want to hear his words; he hated the man's voice in this dizzy moment. His face was flushed, his limbs tightening as he still struggled and he gasped out in his growing frustration. He slammed his fists upon the ground. He writhed his body for all he was worth.

"Let me go!" Harry spit out the mute words.

"No!" Severus shouted. "I will not! You need to listen to me! Please, Harry, just try to calm down!"

Harry shook his head wildly, his back rising once again to get the man off of him; his bones were trembling with the great effort. His boots scraped against the floor. Severus was too strong. It was no use. Harry let his body fall flat to the ground. It hurt to breathe as his body shook with it. The icy ground soothed the searing heat in his face. The tears flowed but he could not feel them.

It was a long time before Severus could control his own breathing. It was a long time before those arms loosened around his torso and came away. Harry didn't move. He lay there on that floor, unmoving and exhausted.

He didn't want to think.

Once again he was shocked over the things that Severus had kept secret from him. His mouth was dry, his face sweaty and pale. His heart felt anchored to the stone underneath him.

Severus had loved his mother. He had loved Lily Evans for practically all his life, had desired her, had worshipped her.

What did it mean? It couldn't mean what Harry didn't dare think; that the man's infatuation over his mother had been transferred over onto him, because he had her eyes, because they were exactly like hers. No. It was impossible. It had never felt wrong; Severus's emotions that he had expressed onto Harry had never felt like that, as if he were a replacement for his mother, for Lily, as if he were the answer to the man's bitter loneliness and grief. No. All of it had to mean more, so much more. It wasn't true, he couldn't bear that, Severus wasn't that kind of man, he wasn't…

As the minutes piled on Severus had spent them kneeling by his body, waiting. What could he say? No words would form together. He was petrified. His thoughts were locking themselves up.

"Harry…" Severus called with much gentleness.

The memories were too visible in his mind. He felt ill. He felt like his body wasn't here, wasn't solid.

Severus's hand fell softly upon his back. Harry pushed his left shoulder up to tell the man he didn't want Severus to touch him. The warm hand came away. Harry blinked quickly.

"Harry…please…" Severus said. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't…" Harry mouthed with trembling lips. He was reminded too much of the Severus in that corridor, pleading with Lily to forgive him. He shut his eyes tightly. If only everything around him could disappear.

"I know you are trying to understand it…" Severus said. His voice was unsteady. "You must be angry…I lied to you again…I kept it from you…"

"Stop!" Harry bit out soundlessly.

"Get up from the floor," Severus said.

"No…" Harry said noiselessly.

"Harry, please…" Severus continued. "I want to look at you…I want us to talk…"

"Shut up!" Harry spat and he could hear the shout in his head. He had pushed himself from the ground. He shoved Severus with all the strength he could muster. Severus fell flat on his bottom.

"Harry—"

"I said shut up!" Harry cried mutely. "Shut up! Shut up!" He was so agitated with the tears that obstructed his vision. He was on his knees. He had started to strike the man, his fists pounding into that strong chest. It was hard at first, powerful enough to make Severus wince slightly but his limbs were growing weak, too weak to cause any pain but he kept hitting the man, his eyes squeezed shut.

He stopped after a while, he could only clutch at the man's dress shirt with desperation. He was shaking uncontrollably. His shoulders hitched as he bowed his head deeply. He pushed his head against the man's chest, sobbing without restraint.

He was miserable for many reasons; because he couldn't stop loving this man no matter if he knew this secret, because of the agony and grief Severus had felt, because he still couldn't speak, because his mother and father were dead, because Sirius was dead, gone…

"Harry…" Severus repeated. He was pulling Harry away, hands on his shoulders but Harry held tight to the man.

With one strong pull Severus had freed Harry from him.

"I love you!"

Each word was clear; each word hit his heart with an electrified impact.

Harry's eyes had snapped open; they were brilliant behind the tears. Severus was looking at him with such intensity it frightened him. Those richly black eyes were smoldering. He couldn't breathe. He was stuck in this moment; this one second in time had somehow tossed his mind to The Fish Bowl, to the sunlight that lived between them…

"Harry, I love you," Severus said. That velvet voice had all of his senses springing to life again. Those deep pools vibrated with light. Like the moon reflecting in water, careful, gentle, quiet.

Harry had found that love wounded in those eyes.

Before he could think of anything else he was being kissed, Severus's lips driving against his. The man's hands held his waist. It took only seconds and Harry was a mess in Severus's lap. He had begun to sob again. Their lips parted. Harry came close to Severus.

"I love you," Severus was whispering in his ear.

His heart ached incredibly. He had wanted to hear those words for so long.

It had been so fleeting.

His body felt warm.

But the instant reminder that he could not speak in return made his emotions diverge. Severus had yet to explain everything to him. He pushed himself away slowly from the man. He kept his head down.

"Harry…I was afraid…" Severus said quietly. "I was afraid if I told you…you'd turn me away…I didn't want to lose you…I had fallen in love with you…so deeply in love with you…Harry…" Severus had placed his hands upon the sides of his face, gently lifting it so Harry could see him. "I am _so_ in love with you…You need to know…I have never felt this way…for anyone but you…"

Harry began to shake his head to deny these words. How could they be true? He had felt the love he had had for his mother.

"You have to believe me, Harry," Severus said strongly. "Harry, please, look at me."

Harry kept his head low. He wanted to keep his eyes away from the man's stare. He was trying to handle everything, to keep himself from falling apart…

"I loved her, Harry," Severus began. Harry instinctively began to tug himself away from him. "Stop, listen to me, please."

Harry kept his head down. His body was trembling.

"I loved her, your mother," Severus struggled to say. "I thought we were meant for each other…"

Harry shook his head again. He hated these words. He felt naked again and so vulnerable and small. He had begun to stand and Severus did not stop him, he only helped Harry to his feet as the man stood as well.

"It wasn't meant, Harry," Severus said as he held Harry's arms.

How could Severus say that? How could he when he had adored her, loved her with everything he was?

"She never felt anything more than friendship for me," Severus said quickly. "I ruined our relationship. Lily—"

Harry had started to turn away.

"Harry," Severus had grabbed him, turning him around.

"I ruined it. I was prejudiced," Severus spoke in hurried tones. "I didn't want to be good, I wanted power, I wanted it more than anything, I wanted people to be afraid of me. She tried, Harry, she tried to save me from that life but I was selfish, I didn't care about what she wanted, I couldn't care even if I loved her for so long—Harry, stop, _look_ at me. She wanted me to change—Harry, for god sake, look at me!" Harry had tried to turn away from the man, he felt disoriented, confused and every word the man said felt like fire inside his ears. Severus's eyes were glaring at him so that he would listen.

"I didn't love her enough to change!" Severus seethed. "You saw that, I would not change, I would not see the world in the way that she did! I refused! I believed in blood purity, I believed in blood status, I wanted to become a Death Eater, I wanted it more than her love, I was blinded by power, I was too afraid, of my own home, of my father, I had no desire to be like my mother…I wanted pride more than love, I wanted respect. I thought, I believed I would have all of these things if I served him. I was young, easily persuaded, a coward, Harry…I hated myself; I hated how easily I could succumb to that temptation. And I thought by having such power that it would actually impress her! That I could protect her! It was ugly, I was ugly, Harry and she knew, she knew she couldn't help me. I didn't blame her for giving up, I didn't blame her for choosing a man who was good, who was far braver than me, who could stand up to _him _without fear—Look at ME!"

Severus was shouting now and he had shook Harry. Harry's chest felt like something was clamping down upon it. His head was spinning again. All of these words were storming too fast into his mind. The tears were slipping away again. Severus's eyes held them as well. Harry forced his eyes to meet them.

"I was branded, Harry, and I regretted it," Severus said forcefully. "It was too late to want anything else. I could never see my life being any different than this mark." He had gripped his left forearm. Harry flinched. "She had made it bearable, Harry…The love I had for her was an escape, it was real, yes, had always been real…but I was not devoted to her…I couldn't always make her happy. I was selfish. I was obsessed with her. I didn't want anyone to rip us apart but she could never love me. She was pure, Harry, and the darkness inside of me…it scared her away…She ended our friendship and we never spoke to each other after that…" Severus had brushed Harry's bangs aside. "Your father…he grew out of his arrogance…he matured…he saw the world the way she did, Harry…"

Sorrow filtered through him. He felt sorry for Severus, for his suffering, for his despair and the thoughts he had had that could never form into dreams, into hope. He had only the darkness to turn to, to feel safe in and his mother, the light she had been for him, had gone out…he had used it but he hadn't grown enough to be kinder to it, he hadn't loved himself even though he had loved her…

"I accepted it against my will…because I still loved her," Severus said. "And it was because of me that she died…but she still would have hated me then…I was so willing to let her son die in exchange for her…It was only after she died that I had begun to change, Harry…only when you were the reason that I kept myself alive…" The tears had built up in the man's eyes. "I felt…somewhere under all the grief…the bitterness…I felt like you needed me…to keep you safe…not just because Dumbledore had requested it…not just because I owed it to Lily to keep her only son alive…" Severus had taken Harry's hands. "I hated you…blindly…only because I could not see you…To me…for years you were the reminder of all the mistakes I had made…But it was cruel of me to place that upon you…I did not know how to live without her alive…"

"I love you, Harry, truly," Severus said.

Sudden anger fought its way into Harry's body. He backed away from Severus, pulling his hands free.

"How can you say that?" Harry signed.

"What? That I love you?" Severus breathed out.

"Yes, how can you?" Harry signed quickly. "How could you…love me after her? How could you love anyone—"

"Don't you dare deny my feelings toward you, Harry," Severus snapped.

"How do you know it's real!? The love you have for me…how do you know?" Harry signed with nervous hands. "I have her eyes…"

"Yes, they look like hers, exactly!" Severus yelled. "But they are not her eyes! They are your eyes; they are a part of you, of Harry, as a person, your own person! I do love your eyes! But I love more than just that about you, I love everything about you! Your own personality, your mannerisms, everything you are, Harry…" Severus had come closer and Harry had found himself backed up against the office door.

He shook his head once more. He was somehow afraid to believe Severus.

"She was the love of your life…" Harry managed to sign.

"No," Severus said with energy. "_No_, she wasn't Harry. She never even knew…"

"How can you love me? How can you when you hated me for so long, how can you when I reminded you…every day…Tell me how you can love me when all I did was remind you of everything you regretted in your life!?" Harry was shouting soundlessly at the man, signing fervently, his face contorted with pain and flushed brightly.

"You're the only person that ever made me_ feel_ anything!" Severus shouted. "After she died I was numb to everyone! I felt dead! Like a ghost in this place where everything reminded me of her! But you! I could feel you…even if it was just our hatred, Harry…I could feel it…" His voice was tired.

"Do you still love her?" Harry could only sign after a moment.

"I remember the love I had for her…" Severus said softly. "But the moment I realized that I cared for you...that I loved you…Harry…I let it become a memory…Do you understand?"

Harry didn't reply. He didn't know what to feel. Severus loved him. Severus _loved him_.

"I want to show you…I want to show you how I fell in love with you…" Severus said softly. "Take out your wand, please."

Harry's eyes searched Severus's expression. He took out his wand from his jeans pocket.

"Stand before me," Severus said.

Harry shuffled his feet forward. He stood a few paces away from the man.

"I'll let you in, just cast the spell."

Harry was anxious and fatigued. He didn't feel like seeing anymore memories. But he raised his wand and concentrated. He thought with much clarity: _Legillimens. _

It felt like he had jumped forward. He was soaring through the memories in Severus's mind. They were all of him, of Harry. They flew by as he flew through them with such speed. They were his Occlumency lessons, he relished in them as he heard his voice yelling at Severus; the man's number of insults blended together and his heart pumped against the recollections that fitted in Harry's own mind. He saw Severus waiting before the Dursley's front door, impatient and annoyed, he felt the times they had Apparated, how the man had begun to look forward to Harry's hand taking hold of his arm, he saw Ms. Gardiner in that office and felt the first flints of jealousy spark in the man's chest, he saw Severus staring at the emotions he had written all over that chalkboard feeling a bit of his own guilt. There were so many flashes of their memories that he sailed through, his heart overflowing with longing. He had missed them dearly.

He saw himself on that swing, sitting in the rain, could see Severus watching over him, invisible, feeling sorry for him. He could almost feel the rain upon his face or perhaps he was crying again. He saw the man reading the letter, his letter, he felt so deeply how the man had tried to hold on to the mask he had put over Harry's face, the mask of James Potter, but it had been useless, Harry Potter had broken through in that moment…

He witnessed again Severus's frantic rage in his room, drowning in confusion because he didn't hate the boy before him anymore, he didn't know what to feel towards this boy. Harry fell and fell, up at times, and then down. He felt the enjoyment the man had held back when he forgave Harry by that swing set, he had wanted to try it again, for old time's sake…

He felt buried in such sunlight.

And he was in The Fish Bowl; he felt all of Severus's emotions, felt just how much Severus had took pleasure in his company. His heart was laughing and he wanted so desperately to stay within these specific memories.

They flickered before his eyes so lovingly.

They were all here, collected and true, sucked dry of every good feeling Severus had gotten from them, greedily, caressingly, wanted, so wanted; his birthday, their lessons, when Severus had realized what he really felt for Harry, their first date, their first kiss, how much Severus had already wanted to do more to his body. He fell through the lust, the desire, the pleasure, felt the man's arousal, how he needed to touch his body, how he had only thought of Harry in these moments.

And they were on top of the Astronomy tower and the sun was breaking in and he sensed it, experienced the realization of the man's love for him, sweeping into his heart effortlessly, bravely, and there was freedom, such freedom, it stretched all the way into the man's bones, his soul called for Harry's own. It was so lovely, it was so much, everything was so much, so sensitive.

The falling force had stopped and he felt Severus pushing, felt the man's mind trying to reach into his own.

Harry ended the connection. Severus's love; it was so powerful, so deeply rooted. It intimidated his own love for the man. Was that stupid of him? He didn't know. His mind was empty because Severus was staring at him, gazing at him now, black eyes striking.

That love was finally free…

Severus took two strides to reach him.

"I'm happy," he said and he had smiled an actual smile. Harry's heart skipped a beat. It was big, Severus's white teeth could be seen, his eyes held such contentment. "I've wanted to tell you since that day…but you needed to know everything…"

Harry couldn't move. The smile fell lightly back to the certain smile Harry was familiar with.

"I've missed you," Severus said. "I'm sorry…for everything."

The blush in Harry's cheeks was undying.

"I love you."

Harry had not realized how close the man had gotten.

"I want to be with you, Harry."

He loved Severus, more than anything or anyone. But disappointment shattered through him. He had wanted to speak those words, he knew that, he knew it and wanted it even more now. And this was the first time that their future felt like more than a dream to Harry. Everything was beginning to feel so cluttered in his head. He needed a moment to deal with it all, to be alone with Severus's love…

Severus had kissed him and how Harry wanted to be pleasured by the man's hands, how he wanted Severus to make love to him.

But the time was not right. Harry was aware of this and he could sense that Severus was too.

"I know you want to go," Severus said quickly. "I understand that you need time to—"

"Think…" Harry signed.

"Yes, think," Severus said softly. "But I won't let you go, Harry…"

"I don't want you to," Harry signed. "I never wanted you to…"

Severus smiled and leaned in to kiss Harry's forehead.

"I will wait for you," Severus said.

"I'll stay…for the holiday," Harry signed suddenly. "I want to stay with you…"

"I would like that…" Severus said as he stared down upon Harry's timid eyes. "I would love that."

Harry nodded. Severus had come away and had grabbed Harry's coat and scarf. Harry took the clothes, put them on and waited. He wished his mind could be like the man's own, so collected, so composed.

"I will see you soon…" Severus said quietly.

"Thank you," Harry had signed. What was it for? For loving him? For having such a capability? For respecting his space? For not getting angry that he hadn't said those words back? He felt embarrassed and reticent. He didn't stay for a reply for he had turned, tugged the office door open, and slipped through it. Halfway down the passage Harry couldn't contain the sudden reprieve he had felt. He had begun to run again.

He was happy.

Because Severus loved him.

And even if he was clumsy with his own love for the man, even if he did not yet know of how he wanted to express it, he had believed, right then and there, that they belonged together.

* * *

**!PLEASE READ!:**

**There will be 2 Chapter 37s. They will be strictly about what happens at the dance. The 1****ST**** one will be in HARRY'S POV. The 2****nd ****will be in SEVERUS'S POV. You will get to experience the whole dance from both of their point of views and you can choose how you would like to experience it. You can either pick Harry, then Severus, or Severus then Harry. The beginnings of their chapters will be different. You will get to hear Harry's thoughts on his mother and Severus's thoughts on Lily. But you will get to choose which you would like to read first. So keep that in mind. They will both be posted at the same time of course. They will not be as long as the other previous chapters but close to it. All I can say is that I hope you will laugh, even for just a little bit. **

A/N 2: Ok, this was the longest chapter I have written. I'm nervous as always about it. I really had not planned for it to be long but there are obvious reasons why it was. I really hope everyone enjoyed it and didn't think it was dragged out too much; a lot had needed to happen.

I am glad that Severus has taken control of their relationship again and there is plenty more to come for Harry and Severus.

I'm sorry for those of you who are disappointed in Harry not telling Severus but he had a lot thrown at him at once and he needs a moment to recuperate. Severus had his moment; Harry will find his as well.

One thing I do hope is that I depicted Severus's memories of Lily in a good way, I added my own touches of course, I couldn't just take everything from Book 7 because it didn't all belong in this story and it would mean lack of creativity on my part. I know not everyone will agree with the way I depicted Severus's love for Lily since it is mostly my opinion.

Also, the scene in the last movie where Severus is in the house is my favorite so I wanted it in his memories here.

Please review if you have the time, I look forward to hearing everyone's thoughts and opinions and such. I hope you look forward to the next chapter.

I am sorry for any errors I may have missed.

Questions, comments, concerns, complaints? Don't hesitate to PM me.

I hope everyone is doing well. Thank you for your continued support.


	38. Chapter 37 (1): Shadow upon Snow

I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Warning: This chapter contains M/M. Don't like it, don't read it. Thank you.

Hello, I'm sorry I couldn't get these two chapters up sooner; I've been busy with life of course. I was also planning further stories that I will write after this one, both slash Harry/Snape. One will be short the other quite lengthy.

Anyway, on with the story:

* * *

**This is HARRY'S POV:**

**Chapter 37: Shadow upon Snow**

"Harry…Harry…"

Her voice was a nervous melody. Somewhere far off in this stretch of time and whatever earth he lay on it caressed the resonance of the faint piano tunes that twirled into his ears. He remembered he needed to open his eyes; that it was not time to sleep. When he did so the light above him eased in almost compassionately. It took a moment for the colors to cease their quick dancing and to shape themselves into things he could perceive as objects, as human, as her as she was kneeling down close to him.

Her face calmed the heart within him, the heart that he hadn't realized was rattling with such energy against his chest as if it was so desperate to let him know he was still alive, still breathing, a body.

Through the blurred tones of such color he could make out the ferocity of the dark red hue of her lipstick, the swiped shine in her lips, the blush that had lashed against her fair cheeks. The dizziness inside him was escaping through every exhale of his fearful breaths. He was afraid, he had been terrified only a moment ago but the deep green existing against the pearls of light in her eyes, the golden glow in the curls of her hair, the relief breaching through the hurried worry in her face, it all stilled him, saving him from the pitch darkness of the enemy that grief was, of the sickness that guilt was, and how they both were such a constant ache in his bones.

He felt her hand on the side of his face, compressing the heat there.

And all too sudden did the rest of the world rush in after her.

He shut his eyes, aware of what had happened and he tried not to focus on the embarrassment and terrible disappointment taunting themselves through his emotions. There was pressure in his head, he was thirsty.

_Damn it…not again…Fifth Year all over again…_

"It's ok, Harry…just relax," Ms. Gardiner said softly. "Can you sit up?"

Harry nodded. His neck felt stiff.

Harry opened his eyes and lifted himself to sit up as her hand came gently upon his back.

"Sorry I couldn't catch you before you hit the floor…" Ms. Gardiner said apologetically. "You just sort of slumped and fell over with the chair…You didn't hit your head this time…"

Harry let out a heavy sigh, his shaking right hand coming under his nose.

"No blood," she said quickly.

Harry nodded once.

"I'm sorry…"

"No…You were fine…I just…panicked again…and shut you out," Harry signed and then shook his buzzing and trembling hands.

"I don't think you should try again, three times is enough for today," Ms. Gardiner said softly.

Harry hung his head dejectedly. He had thought today would have been the day, that he would have been able to speak today but of course he had been wrong again.

He got to his feet slowly and Ms. Gardiner held his arm as she stood with him. He glanced over her form, her dark blue blouse with the small black Peter Pan collar, her black pencil skirt, her shiny black heels. He thought of Royle transiently before grabbing the chair and straightening it up right. He sat down and put his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting his head.

Ms. Gardiner took up her wand from the floor and sat across from Harry like always.

"You tried longer this time," she said quietly.

Harry's eyes were stuck on the twinkling silver instruments on Dumbledore's desk, flickering here and there to fall upon the old wizard's tin of lemon drops, the red ribbon tied around a roll of parchment.

He had passed out again, it was simple to conclude. It had happened last Wednesday as well. Yes, he had tried but it didn't seem to matter how hard he tried or how much time had gone by (half a year and a handful of days) because his voice was still, _still_ lost.

"I can understand your hurry for the most part Harry…" she began gently, "but is there something you haven't told me that has fueled your determination this past week?"

Harry's eyes met her gaze. They were wide and intensely blue and discouraged behind his glasses.

"I told you…Snape and I are…friends again," Harry signed slowly. "He said…I need to really focus on this…and not worry about other things…"

It was a lie of course; one that no one would actually believe if they noticed just how much he had thrown himself into working on retrieving his ability to speak. And of course he and Snape (Severus) were not just friends.

Severus loved him. He had said so not more than ten days ago. It was Wednesday, December 18th and up till now he had dedicated himself, all of his spare time, to trying to be able to speak again. He had meditated three times a day till now, he had tried to free the stress from his body, had worked his mind and heart into being able to think of his godfather without letting his grief drown him, and he had forced himself into Ms. Gardiner's hypnosis exercise once more even allowing her to use Occlumency to guide him, to find the certain memories of that night in the Ministry and construct them around his mind while she talked to him.

And he had faced Sirius in these memories and still the agony had bled through him, gushed through him and it could not be controlled, he could not find a way to siphon it off before it became too much and he needed to escape it and it was within these voids of his memories, of whispered, incandescent thoughts that he realized just how much he had loved Sirius, had needed him. Had Sirius known? He couldn't wonder, couldn't ask the man for he had not visited his dreams for quite some time…

"You've come so far, Harry…" Ms. Gardiner said. The silence had been weighted around them for many minutes as Harry had spaced out. "But remember…words are just as real through sign…they don't mean anything less…they're just as thought out or instantaneous…"

Harry felt himself nod. All though it pained him to think of his life without ever speaking again he had to find that truth, to admit that there were some people who never got the chance to lose something they never had to begin with…

"Are you alright?" she said softly.

"Yeah…" Harry nodded.

"Are you looking forward to the dance?"

Harry shrugged.

"Do you have a date?"

He felt his cheeks prickle with heat. He shook his head.

All she did was smile.

"Are you going?" Harry signed suddenly.

"I was invited, yes…" she said.

"By who?" Harry had straightened himself in his chair.

"Professor Royle—"

"You spoke?" Harry interrupted, all of his attention focused on this sudden development and he briefly wondered why Royle hadn't said anything to him yesterday after class.

He had thanked the man obviously last week for saving his life in the Forbidden Forest and had apologized for endangering the man's own life because of him. Royle had brushed the apology off, looking perfectly well and cheerful and had ruffled Harry's hair, asking him if he had used his certificate to Madame Puddifoot's to his advantage. Harry had signed "for the most part" and Royle had wanted details but Harry refused to give the man any no matter how much Royle prodded. It would have been awkward but the man was starting to feel like more of a friend to Harry than ever this past month allowing them both to look past the teacher student conduct:

_"Did you kiss her?" Royle asked as he and Harry had been sitting on the man's desk again. It was snowing out and the wind made the large windows behind them shiver. _

_ Harry's heart had filled with worry. Like Ron, he was afraid of how Royle would react if he knew and Harry wondered if the man would ever know and his thoughts had chased one another in that moment to a possible future. When it would be safe to tell others, would they? Did Severus want others to know? He hadn't a clue._

_ "She kissed you, didn't she?" Royle said with a raised eyebrow. _

_ Despite himself he nodded._

_ "So if it wasn't that Ravenclaw girl who was it?" _

_ And Harry only thought of how far the man's understanding of love could go before shaking his head, his face aflame, and telling Royle he would see him later. _

"He sent me a letter," Ms. Gardiner said with softness. "I replied…"

"He's your date then?" Harry signed, not aware that he was smiling.

"Not necessarily…" she said.

Harry's smile fell and Ms. Gardiner laughed lightly.

"You'll be late for Charms, Harry," she said with that smile of hers. She stood and grabbed up her coat and purse.

And Harry thought anxiously of how much romance could bloom from a special dinner and music and dancing and finely dressed couples, of how daring love could be under enough enchantment…

* * *

Harry had given himself enough time to think, to laboriously think over the memories that Severus had showed, no, shared with him. They were the truth which was all Harry had ever asked for, which was all they both were in need of to overcome the blade of doubt that had struck down between them without Harry even being conscious of it.

They both held that faith now, that hope, which put Harry in a sense of awe through these passing days. He was in shock.

They loved each other.

Severus had been the _first_ to say those words, those giant-like words, beautiful, wonderful…Harry just couldn't begin to describe how his heart felt when those words had come alive, how they sounded, how they had felt to his soul, sewing themselves to it, an eternal burn upon it.

The man had bared his life to Harry. He had fallen in love, been in love with Harry during all those moments they encompassed together. He had become that special to Severus. It should have been impossible…

Severus trusted him with his heart, had given him this love, this gift. It scared him, he wouldn't lie. No matter how he had tried to fathom it, to reason with it, to let the many thoughts tumble about in his mind, from hand to hand, circling and winding, he couldn't believe that a man like this, a man who had been so _cold_, so _cruel_, so _dark_, that he once thought so long ago to be so incapable of compassion, of kindness, of _love_, had proven to him just how much and how true and how heavy and how real these emotions, these human, soulful things could be. And he knew, could understand that this was where happiness truly thrived, in simple things, in what the heart tows so effortlessly when one is so completely open to another.

He hadn't known he would find it here, with Severus, in this heart. He did not want to believe in such a fate, he did not know if it was worth it to believe that they were meant for each other and he did not want to think of everything that had happened to bring them to each other like this. It was unlikely, foolish and insane but not once did he ever try to stop it, not once did he feel like he needed to.

But all he really wanted to admit was that Severus was a man that could be loved, straightforwardly and that he, Harry, no matter that he was young, no matter if he was mute, no matter of the ways that his life could have been or should have been, he loved this man of his own choice, of his heart's desire, and he knew, bravely and beyond any and every doubt, that there was no changing this no matter how much the world would change tomorrow or every day after.

Did his mother know? Did Lily know that her only child, her boy, was in love with the man that had loved her for so long, that had been his first love, a love that he had kept so secret from her? Had she ever known herself? Or was Severus right, that the dark things inside of him, his prejudice ideals, his cruelty, all the things he attempted to keep hidden from her, did they keep the possibly of her love for Severus at bay?

Because of course Lily, his mother, had been such a loving girl, a woman, a wife and mother. He felt guilty for thinking this way. Would he have given up on Severus too? In some alternate plane of existence, if put in her shoes, would he have done the same? Or was his kindness greater than hers? His naivety far more blind than her own? Severus had been her friend, her best friend. Had she been too scared to help him further? Or had she really tried everything she could but saw no change, could only see the shadowed footsteps that Severus would take in the future? Had she imagined that mark on his arm? Had she been scared for him? Or had she been so afraid of that darkness touching her own heart that she couldn't take the risk? He didn't know if Lily had loved him.

But he could tell, in the pictures he had of her, of Lily and James, that their love had been so loyal, so happy, the light so great in their eyes and he had seen her attraction to James in those memories. Had she been ashamed? Confused? Had she tried to choose between them? James and Severus? All her love just waiting for what man would change first? He didn't want to believe it or judge his mother's legacy but in the end, had she simply not wished to see what Severus would become?

Severus was right. She had been too pure, he had made too many mistakes, could not see past power's sinister temptation, they had been young, Severus had believed in things that Lily did not, and it took her death for Severus to understand what she had been trying to open his heart to. But Severus, having never been loved like her, not cherished or accepted; all those things were beaten out of him by his father, by neglect, by hopelessness and the dimness of despair and the many ways that life could show just how much disappointment one could feel.

They were different, he and Severus. But he didn't mind it. For whatever reasons he didn't want to think about why he hadn't turned out the way Severus did. He could be grateful that love was still a chamber in his heart, that it hadn't caved in with the cruelty that he himself had suffered, the abuse, the well acquainted shadows in that lonely cupboard, the hunger, the neglect, wondering if he'd ever belong somewhere in some place in his life; it hadn't been enough to steal love away, not the love his mother gave to him, not that sort of sacrifice…

Severus loved him, wanted to be with him and he could feel it now, that devotion that Severus spoke of, that existed in those black eyes, lit there, an everlasting flame. He felt that for Severus and he didn't care if no one believed it, he knew and that was all that mattered.

How would they build their future? It was a question that kept rising in his mind without reluctance, without mercy. He wanted his voice. He wanted to be rid of the demon, of everything that threatened their future…

The days had whisked by along with his thoughts and daydreams. He had daydreamed quite a lot and his classmates had definitely noticed the change in his demeanor, Ron and Hermione especially. He hadn't told Hermione of what happened that Saturday but he knew she must have already guessed of course. Things had fallen into a much better pace for Harry since Severus confessed despite his desperation to speak again, to speak now so that he could voice his own confession to the man. Alas, to Harry, he didn't know if it would be possible now, he was running out of time, it wouldn't be fair to keep Severus waiting for much longer, he would just have to accept it, it wasn't as if Severus would be disappointed, right?

Harry hoped he wouldn't be.

They had Apparition lessons again in which Harry had succeeded in Apparating many times into his hoop and he had moved it a few feet away until it was on the other side of the Great Hall. Dumbledore had been there then to see it that last Monday and had smiled at Harry. Hermione achieved her first Apparition on their second Monday and at the end of their third Ron had done it though he had left an eyebrow behind.

He studied fervently and had taken his Charms exam confidently that late morning. After lunch he had gone to Potions like always with Hermione who was reciting definitions out loud as she walked next to him. The exam hadn't been easy but he took the written part without too much trouble and brewed the Draught of Living Death with acceptable results. He tried to hide his smile from Severus when the man walked around to grade their cauldrons. He remembered, clearly, the first day of term and what a mess of anxiety he had been and how he had thrown such a tantrum of anger in front of the man. He could tell that Severus was trying not to smile as well.

It felt silly really in that moment. He had only exchanged eye contact with the man these passing days and that was it. There were no lessons or evening tea by the fire, no spoken words, no physical contact whatsoever…

Until Severus had placed his left hand down on the wooden table, brushing his fingers atop Harry's own. It was so discrete, so soft, barely there at all but Harry felt it, felt the temperature of it, the gentle way of it, the desire disguised behind it. Then the man swept away to the table behind Harry leaving him to breathe in the man's scent, he let it saunter through his senses, alluring, beckoning, arousing; he let it climb through him, the pleasant feelings scaling over his heart, around and around until there was such heat there, covering it up, making it pound fretfully.

The amount of questions he had for the man was abundant; the sum of things he wanted to say to Severus was mostly endless.

Everything changes when people fall in love; futures, decisions, dreams and ideas, all of it altering and molding to slide easily into place between them or maybe, rather, all of these possessions meant nothing when compared to just being together; as long as they were together eternity felt comfortable, nothing was unbearable, the only fear that existed was more or less the thrill of impulse, unplanned exploits, unmapped voyages into the forever perspectives of lands one hasn't seen before, of stories yet to be read, the secret rivers of glistening questions where one is led to golden passages of the soul...

He had never been given enough room to wander. All of what he had been so hidden from was possible now.

This love could be lived. He was hungry for it. There was so much.

Did Severus feel it too? Was he just as hungry?

* * *

When it was finally Friday the Gryffindor common room was alive and wild with exhilaration and holiday cheer. End of term exams were over, tomorrow everyone would get to go home to see their families, tonight was the long awaited ball, happiness gripped the air tightly.

Harry woke up that morning feeling repressed by such apprehension. His nerves were all but shattered. How he envied Severus for confessing first. The man hadn't been a mess like he most likely would be; he had said those words with perfect confidence, eyes so still with truth. It wasn't fair. He couldn't stop his hands that shook, he felt almost brittle, lost.

The common room was lit up with ruby and gold fairy lights, gleaming garland, and glittery ribbons that hung from wreaths. Harry chose to hide away in his dormitory, taking his mind off things by drawing in the sketchbook that Ms. Gardiner had given him as he listened to the Christmassy music that drifted through the open door. He was alone until Ron had stormed in, red faced, his brow furrowed.

"What's the matter?" Harry signed after he put down his pencil. "What's that in your hand?"

Ron faced him swiftly, his jaw clenched and he thrust the object that Harry was curious about toward him; it was a bright pink necktie.

"She's making me wear this!" Ron snapped.

Harry, who sat cross-legged on his bed, raised an eyebrow.

"Lavender!" the boy shouted.

"I figured," Harry signed.

"You could have a little bit more sympathy Harry!" Ron's expression was grappled with worry and frustration.

"You've been forcing yourself to snog her for the past two months, she's literally been attached to your hip like some kind of growth, you've dealt with her god awful giggling all this time and some how you're surprised that she wants you to wear a pink tie to match her dress?" Harry signed quickly, his lips moving fast.

"How'd you know-"

"She's only been repeating it over and over to anyone who'll listen at dinner!" Harry responded and he had shuffled on his bed to sit at the end of it, glaring at Ron.

"I've sort of…learned how to tune her out I guess…" Ron muttered.

"I can't believe you!" Harry signed forcefully as he stood on his bare feet.

"What's your problem?"

"You! You're the problem!" Harry signed as he was growing angry.

"Me!?"

"Yes! Can't you see what you're doing to Hermione? Don't you notice how hurt she looks when she sees the two of you together!? You can't be that thick!" Harry had tried to slow down his hands so Ron could get every word but his heart thumped away in his chest sporadically.

"I'm not thick!" Ron yelled.

"Yes you are! And a coward! She's been waiting for you all this time—"

"No, she's been…_nestling_ herself next to McLaggen!"

"You have to be joking!" Harry signed. "She's been trying to make you jealous you git!"

"I…I…" Ron stuttered before shutting his mouth. "She hasn't said anything—"

"Of course she hasn't—"

"Why not!?"

"Because it doesn't matter how smart and cunning and brilliant she is, you're the man! You're supposed to ask her! Make her feel special!" Harry signed fervently. "But instead you're busy being with a girl you don't even remotely have feelings for; you're taking _her_ to the dance, not Hermione."

Ron only stared at Harry for a long moment with a flushed face.

"You really think Hermione fancies me?" Ron said in a tone of voice Harry wasn't used to.

"Of course she does…" Harry signed.

"Has she told you…?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Harry signed. "All that matters is what you feel and what you're going to do about it…You have all night to _not_ be a coward."

Ron's shoulders slumped.

"Is she going with anyone?" Ron asked quietly.

"Me…as friends," Harry signed.

Yesterday afternoon Harry had asked the girl in the library as Hermione was putting away many of the books she had checked out. He had been wary of Romilda Vane staring at the two of them from the table she sat at. She knew Cho was not with him anymore, she knew he was dateless for the ball so, feeling cornered again, Harry had let the invitation slip out to Hermione who only stared at him for a moment, and then she smiled softly and said yes.

"I don't get it…" Ron said. "You went out with Cho for only a week and then break up with her…You've turned down just about every other girl who's asked you…"

"I just don't…care about that sort of thing right now," Harry signed slowly.

Ron eyed him for a second and then looked down at the pink necktie with reluctance weighing down his features.

"Wear the stupid tie," Harry signed when Ron gave him a sheepishly miserable look. "Honestly, it's an upgrade from what you had to wear last time."

"Funny…" Ron muttered.

"I'll keep Cormac away from her for you," Harry signed.

"Right," Ron said and he tossed the tie on his bed.

"'_Nestling_?'" Harry signed giving the ginger haired boy a funny look.

"I don't know," Ron mumbled trying to shrug off the embarrassment and he sprawled out on his bed. Harry grinned.

* * *

For two hours Harry sat by his window watching the light of the day fade slowly, the sapphire sky growing darker, the wind bringing in the roaming clouds over the reflecting hills of snow below. It was almost six in the evening. The sounds of his dorm mates getting ready had been faint to his ears. Seamus was overly excited, Neville was tense, Ron grumbled about his tie. Harry caught sight of Dean's dark green tie and vest and a pang of guilt settled in his stomach.

"Harry, you better get ready," Ron said as he was tying his dress shoes.

Harry turned and was surprised to see how spiffy the boy looked and when Ron stood up straight he had replaced spiffy for charming. Ron's ginger hair was combed neatly. He wore a black two button tux, a black vest underneath, the dress shirt white. The only thing unfortunate about the boy's attire was his pink necktie but for some reason he thought it suited Ron.

His eyes fell on Neville and he was wearing formal black and white dress robes much like the ones Harry had worn at the Yule Ball. Seamus was sporting a black tux with a red vest and matching necktie. He found it entertaining at how well they all cleaned up.

"I'll see you down there, Harry; I've got to go…" Ron said and he paused, his hands in his pockets already. "Lavender's waiting…"

Harry, who still wore his gray jumper and jeans, nodded at the boy. He watched them all go, heard their animated talk die away. The music from the common room had stopped. Harry stalled for a few more minutes, sitting in the alcove before the window with his knees held against his chest. His heart was shuddering. Would Severus be there? What would the man do? What would Harry do? He wasn't much of a dancer…But he supposed he could try to have fun.

He sighed inwardly and headed to the dorm's bathroom where he showered, and brushed his teeth. Coming out of the restroom with a towel wrapped around his waist he opened up the large parcel wherein his tux was neatly folded. He thumbed one of his square onyx cufflinks. Harry had liked them because they looked like little windows.

Using the fluffy towel he dried himself off completely and began to dress. He put on a pair of black short boxers and dark navy blue long socks. Harry slipped on his tux's slacks, and buttoned up his black dress shirt carefully, tucking it into his slacks. He knotted the charcoal black tie and adjusted his collar. The material of the oxford blue vest was silky underneath his fingertips as he buttoned that up as well.

He was surprised at how everything fit comfortably. Harry sat down and put his dress shoes on; he had shined them with a simple charm the night before. He sat there not really sure why he was still anxious but before the flighty uneasiness could make him surrender to the idea of just staying rooted to this spot looking out his forsaken window for the entire night he heard the sound of soft clicking to his right.

Harry lifted his head gradually and there she was, Hermione. And she was, by all means, beautiful, strikingly beautiful. Harry's eyes broadened as he took in the sight of her.

She stood with her hands behind her back and staring at him with a timid smile. Her dress was a deep rose red, satin-like in material with a soft luster shine. It flared out slightly at the end and fell just below her knees. To match the dress she wore peep-toed patent heels of the same color. Her hair was somewhat curled and done up prettily with her bangs free to frame her face. Her makeup was light, bringing out the shimmer in her eyes, the rouge upon her cheeks was just and her red lips stood out against her fair complexion.

Harry stood quickly as she came up to him looking a bit bashful.

"Hi…Sorry…were you waiting?" Harry signed clumsily.

"No, no, I just got done getting ready…" Hermione spoke in a hurried and breathless tone. "You're nervous? I'm nervous."

Harry noticed that her shoulders were trembling softly.

"I just thought…I'd help you get ready, I suppose mostly everyone is down there by now," she said. Her necklace was a flower, its petals were rubies and the center was a diamond. Her earrings matched…

"Yeah…" Harry nodded and looked around. His mind felt blank.

"Here…" Hermione said.

She helped him with his cufflinks and it wasn't too odd when she had taken him to the boys' empty restroom where she used his comb and a bottle of some type of gel that either Seamus or Neville had left behind to fix his hair. Harry sat there for minutes surrounded by her fine perfume.

"There, it looks more gentlemanly now," Hermione said as she faced him toward one of the mirrors.

Harry put on his glasses and he was surprised at the boy who gazed back at him. He looked older like this, a boy not yet a man but his eyes, big and round, gave away his age easily. She had swept back his hair smoothly so that it was neat and with no bangs to hide his scar it was plainly visible. He let himself smile.

"We should hurry," Hermione said after she washed her hands.

Harry nodded and quickly put on cologne and they left the washroom. He buttoned his tux jacket as Hermione straightened his tie and collar and the jacket's pocket handkerchief. They rushed out of the dormitory and through the common room where a few younger students eyed them curiously and giggled.

The corridors were silent and empty except for the buzzing fairies that hid in the large Christmas wreaths. Harry's heart was jumping. He felt the heat in his face as he hurried alongside Hermione whose dress fluttered about her legs. They were both laughing for whatever reason, Harry did not know. They held each other's hands tightly, his dress shoes and her heels tapping along the many steps all the way down to the grand staircase.

They stopped just before they could be seen by the bustling crowd on the floor below. Harry could hear the noise, their eagerness and laughter. There was a break out of cheers as the large doors of the Great Hall were opened.

Harry let out the breath he had been holding. He was jittery with nerves that he could not shake and he couldn't understand why. He wouldn't have to participate in a precession this time, wouldn't have to dance in front of the whole school.

"Let's go," Hermione whispered to him as she tugged gently on his hand.

They descended the steps gingerly. Many heads turned to see who the latecomers were. Harry felt their eyes upon him but kept his own on the strung silver and flowered festoons on the stoned walls and the lit fires in the big hanging torches beside the doors of the Great Hall.

Harry caught Ron's eyes though and of course they were glued to Hermione. Lavender in her pink dress, whose back was turned, towed Ron ahead. He saw Neville and Luna who wore a very unique but none-the-less pretty dress. It was short and layered, its color a shiny light purple with twinkles of sewn black beads into the chiffon material. Her blond hair was down and waved with a matching bow in the back. They disappeared amongst the many students that were gathered together, all exquisitely dressed and slowly making their way into the Hall.

Harry and Hermione waited, listening to the violin tunes that hovered in the air.

The moment following was one that most likely would reside in his memories as vivid and clear as ever, one that he would play back just because he could, one that could tiptoe into his mind but feel like a daydream, would make his chest warm and feel as if summer light were caressing his skin…

Harry turned his head to his right and did a double-take. He wasn't the only one. Dozens of heads turned to see their Potions Master walking through the entrance hall or perhaps they could not recognize the man as Professor Snape.

If his heart wasn't pounding before it most definitely was now. Time seemed to have stilled, that's how stunned he was and remained; he could not, would not blink.

Severus was mostly in all black, a pitch black two buttoned tux with a corresponding dress shirt and vest, his dress shoes were as shiny as always; the only thing that was not black was his silk necktie which was white. The man's hair looked soft with that just wave. Harry's eyes toured up and down the man's form. Severus's strides were long, his posture straight. Those deep orbs of obsidian were kept straight forward and his presence was very business-like.

Murmurs arose from the dispersing crowd but were drowned out by the rising instrumental music coming from the Hall. As Severus turned he looked back, very briefly, at Harry. That firm, enduring composure shook his senses, stung his heart with longing. In that span of half a minute the man was gone into the crowd.

Harry's hand was hot in Hermione's who had also been staring at Severus. Harry had been about to step forward with her when he heard Parvarti in front of him take in a short gasp. Harry and Hermione both looked behind them to see Professor Royle walking down the grand staircase.

Royle looked like an actor, the leading male role in some romance film that Harry would see billboards for on his sparse trips to London. But there was a kind of happiness in his eyes that Harry was foreign to. He wore an ebony two buttoned tux, a white dress shirt, a silvery gray vest and matching bowtie. Like Harry, the man's hair was swept back neatly.

With his hands in his pockets he had come up to Harry and eyed Hermione, he then gave Harry a wink and walked off into the Hall.

"Wouldn't it be lovely to see them dance?" Hermione said softly as they continued forward.

Harry nodded and wondered if Ms. Gardiner had arrived already.

The Great Hall was captivating. Unlike the Yule Ball which had cast the place in a bright wintry light this time it was fixed in a dim twilight glow. The stoned walls were hidden, draped in long midnight curtains that glinted with flecks of rainbow. The ceiling was a pool of black, a mysterious empty void and like velvet it gave of a reflected sheen. Harry could barely see the light fixtures that had been put in place as if they were in a theater though they weren't on.

The House tables and Staff table were gone. The stone floor shined like marble in shadow. At the entrance there were long tables set flush with the walls adorned with white table clothes and covered with platters and trays of all sorts of lavish food. There were round decorative tables clothed in black and in the center of each one was a black lantern lit with a crystal-like flame.

A high stage was set up at the end of the Hall in place of the Staff table and before it a large gleaming dance floor. It was already loud with everyone collected together and chattering though there was plenty of room. Harry could make out where Dumbledore and some of the teachers were near the empty stage. McGonagall wore deep blue dress robes with a matching hat and raven feather. Professor Dumbledore wore dark red dress robes with a golden hue. He was talking to Severus who stood next to Royle.

When everyone had entered the Hall the Headmaster had walked into the center of the dance floor and a great hush fell over the students. Hermione came close to Harry as they had wound up in the center of the crowd now. The instrumental music, from wherever it came from, slowed to a stop.

"I would like to thank everyone for attending tonight's dance, I know tomorrow you all look forward to going home and seeing loved ones for the holidays," the old wizard announced calmly, his light blue eyes cast in the silhouette of the dusk-like room. "Now, I am sure you are eager to enjoy the night's festivities but I must ask you kindly to employ sense and civility onto your fellow students, if we all do as such we can take pleasure in an evening of, as dear Professor McGonagall puts it, well-mannered frivolity. We have a wonderful buffet at the ready so tuck in. Happy Christmas!"

Many people, including Harry and Hermione, clapped. There were calls of "Happy Christmas!" all around. Above them the lights glowed only bright enough to light up the tables of food and drink.

"Shall we eat then?" Hermione said as everyone was making their way to the front of the Hall.

Harry nodded, looking back only for a moment to see that the teachers had their own round table at the back corner where their food had been served for them. He did not see Ms. Gardiner among them.

It was loud again as the students were all taking up clear glass plates and mingling. Harry handed a plate to Hermione and took one for himself. He could hear the compliments being given about the food already. Harry looked around. There were delectable appetizers, salads and soups to begin with, main courses of lobster tail, crab legs, smoked salmon and roast chicken. There was a wide choice of side dishes as well. Harry smiled as he saw Ron piling his plate much to Lavender's dislike.

"Harry, Hermione, you two look wonderful."

Harry turned to see Cho. Her dress was eloquent, a dark blue oriental style with black trim and a black flowered design alongside the slit. Her hair was done up in a tight bun leaving only two curled locks to frame her face. Her date, a Ravenclaw boy Harry knew as Michael Corner, was at her side in formal dress robes.

"Hi Cho, Michael," Hermione said happily.

"Would you like to sit with us?" Cho said, her voice rising so they could hear for the instrumental music had started up again.

"Of course," Hermione replied and Harry smiled.

With their dinner plates they headed to one of the circular tables which center piece intrigued Harry. They all sat down, there silverware and such things already set out along with glass cups of pumpkin juice.

"Everything's a bit mystifying, isn't it?" Cho remarked.

"Oh yes," Hermione replied though her eyes were on the table that Lavender and Ron had just sat down at next to Ginny and Dean. Ginny's dress was a forest green, short and very feathery at the ends. Her hair was let down. Harry looked away when her eyes found their table.

"Hey Harry, mind if we sit with you?"

It was Neville and Luna who had their plates.

"Not at all," Harry signed and smiled at Luna who sat next to him and Neville next to her.

"You look dashing, Harry," Luna said airily

"Thank you," Harry signed. "You and Neville look brilliant."

It was nice to eat with everyone and Harry found himself enjoying the rumble in his ears because of the chatter that bordered all of them. He admired the crystal fire in the lantern though he ate very little. He was still nervous and he kept glancing over to where Severus was seated. All the teachers were conversing.

After a while the lights dimmed out and the Hall quieted down. The music stopped again. Magicked speakers had appeared on the stage's wall as well as instruments. There was lighting at the foot of the stage that emitted a faint bluish tint. Smoke began to fall over the stage, rolling out onto the dance floor. Four men appeared out of the ashen colored haze and many students around Harry had begun to clap and whistle. Harry did not know who they were but they all seemed to be in their 20s or a little older.

More lights from the ceiling engulfed the stage. All four men were light skinned, similar in size, and ruggedly dressed. The man who stood center stage in front of the spiraled steel microphone had very short hair, his face unshaven. His faded black trousers were tight; he wore a black leather jacket and a thin gray shirt underneath. Tide to his right upper arm was a long piece of dark red cloth. He wore many different chains and metal necklaces. His band mates were dressed similarly, all in different style combat boots.

They had taken their places by their instruments, a keyboard, drums, guitar, and the lead singer had given a raspy introduction as everyone applauded and shouted and clapped. The band began to play a slow song first and mostly everyone had gotten up and flocked toward the dance floor. Hermione came close to him and over the song she had told Harry the group was an indie-rock band who were mostly muggleborn wizards.

"How can you possibly know that?" Harry signed with raised eyebrows.

She had replied but he could barely make out what she had said. They sat there for a bit and gradually Michael Corner had taken Cho out on the dance floor followed soon by Luna and Neville, who was blushing slightly. The music was lifting to Harry's ears; the lead singer was very talented.

"Harry…Harry!"

Harry jumped. Hermione, who was trying to get his attention which had been focused on the band on stage, had tugged on his sleeve. Harry looked to her and then followed her line of vision. Once again he was stunned that night.

Ms. Gardiner had entered the Great Hall. He almost didn't recognize her for some reason, whether it was the dim lighting or the music.

She was distractingly dazzling, gorgeous, sublime.

Ms. Gardiner wore a black one-shoulder ruche tencel gown. Though, to Harry, it was just a divine sort of looking black dress. Her right shoulder was bare, her left accentuated by a pattern of coal colored beads and gems, the arm draped over with the fluttered thin material of the dress. Her hair was done up, wispy curls falling almost gracefully. There were jewels in her hair; they matched the dress, thin and diamond in shape, shining from the beams of light above. He could see her rouge lips, her smoky eyes that emphasized her dark green orbs beautifully.

Harry had been about to get up from his chair and go over to her but Hermione had pushed him down suddenly.

"_No_," she hissed.

Harry looked at her in confusion until she grabbed his head to point his vision in the direction of where the teachers sat. The band was playing a somewhat unhurried piece, the crowds of students were dancing, smiling, laughing, clapping in time with it.

And he saw Royle in the gathered mass of jovial bodies, making his way through. It must have been his expression that made Harry's heart tighten just a bit, made it quite lively in his chest. Royle's eyes never left where she was, waiting and hesitant, unsure but trying to smile. Harry and Hermione watched intriguingly even if the moment felt almost too private to witness.

Hermione was smiling, her hands held on her lap. Harry had told her about them, had felt like a gossiping girl in those moments but he had told her. Royle reached her in moments, had stopped right before her and Ms. Gardiner was looking up at him. There was fear in her eyes, quick and wandering, trying to be masked over by her tough will. They spoke but Harry couldn't hear what they were saying. The song played, the heavy bass of it making Harry's chest reverberate. Worry crept over his form as he watched them. They hadn't touched yet. They only talked. A few eyes were on them besides Harry's and Hermione's. It felt like a film but all too real at the same time.

Royle took her hand delicately and then they were walking toward the teachers' table, the crowd parting for them marginally. Harry could barely see Severus through the dancing forms of students. He was sitting. Dumbledore was gone. He wanted to see Severus up close. He looked at Hermione who wasn't smiling anymore, her eyes peering over at where Ron was. The boy wasn't really dancing, just following along with Lavender as she twirled about, her hips moving a bit suggestively. This was no good, he couldn't be a horrible date to Hermione even if they were only here as friends.

"We should dance," Harry finally signed though he was thoroughly embarrassed.

"Really?" Hermione said.

Harry nodded quickly.

"Alright," she said, her eyes growing happy.

Harry stood and bowed somewhat dramatically, his right hand awaiting hers. Hermione laughed as she took it and they hurried off into the dancing crowd.

The song that was playing now was quite slow. Harry's cheeks were red with heat. But Hermione was the brave one. She took his hand, guiding it to hold her waist as she placed a hand over his right shoulder and their free hands were linked. Her brown eyes were light filled as she laughed kindly at his clumsy slow dancing. They moved about with the dancers around them. Harry shoulders were stiff. Her hand was soft in his.

He could smell all sorts of perfumes and colognes mixing. Although the crowd was large it was cold around them, a chill that brought relief to the heat in his face. He moved his feet carefully, trying to relax. He could describe their dance as silly or playful, not at all romantic as the other couples who were close, holding each other with meaning.

He twirled her as her dress twirled with her and she laughed as he spun a circle, their arms up making a high arch. There were girls who danced together; those who did not have dates and Harry spotted a few lonely looking blokes still sitting at the tables. He saw Ron, a forced smile on his face, apprehension bewildered in his eyes. Lavender was a ball of flirtatious energy though her eyes did flick back and forth to Hermione and Harry.

He was closer to the teachers' table now. He saw Ms. Gardiner eating slowly as Professor Flitwick was speaking with her, Professor McGonagall as well. Royle sat there, his gaze on Ms. Gardiner. Severus, who sat next to Royle although a couple feet between them, was silent. His black eyes were set on the fire in the lantern centerpiece.

God, he looked handsome, unbelievably charming. That was all Harry could think, those few words flaunting about in his head as he danced with Hermione. His hand was on her back now letting Hermione conduct them to the next slow song. Severus's eyes had lifted and of course fell on Harry. What were those eyes saying? Harry could only fathom, could only create it in his mind with this moment, the song rising in volume, the lead singer's body emotive with the song, the band playing, the sound of drums, the strums of the guitar, the mystic feeling in this place with its darkness and diffused tranquil illumination, streaks of light caressing his vision.

_We miss each other. It's somewhat scary to love you. I want to feel you close. I want you to be in her place. How have you been? Is everything alright between us? There's so much we could do, isn't there? I love you, god how I love you…I won't ever give this up, I won't ever…_

His thoughts roamed through his body, cleansing and hopeful.

Severus looked away as McGonagall was talking to him now. Hermione laid her head on his left shoulder. They moved slowly, he felt the warmth of her body, her supple skin for the dress was open in the back, not so revealing but enough to certainly get Ron's attention…

When the song was over the next was fast paced with a deep bass and uplifted tempo. Harry and Hermione came apart. Harry was embarrassed again. He smiled timidly as he moved his shoulders that were still stiff. This just wasn't his sort of thing. Hermione was better at it, much better as she swayed in time with the music, smiling, her cheeks blushing.

A group of girls had come over however; the Patil twins, Luna, Ginny, Cho, and a few others, even Lavender. They wanted Hermione to dance with them all as their dates had gone off to get refreshments. The music was very loud now, he could hardly hear them but Hermione had given him a look as if asking if it would be alright but they were pulling her away so it didn't matter. He gave the girls a smile as they were giggling, wanting to get near the stage.

Harry made his way through the crowd and headed over to the buffet tables. The refreshment table was all by itself against the left wall. It was decorated fancily with tiny crystal squares and silvery things. There were glass bottles of apple cider and an assortment of juices all lined up. In the middle was a large crystal punch bowl and many empty glass goblets all tinted different colors. Seamus was just leaving with a goblet, grinning at Harry.

Harry absentmindedly stared at the students who mingled at the buffet line as he took up the punch ladle and poured himself a drink. Sweets had been served; an assortment of cakes, pastries, pies, and cookies. Harry hadn't realized he was thirsty until he had finished his goblet quickly. It was a fruity, citrusy flavor and something else that Harry couldn't guess at but it was tasty. He poured himself another glass just as Ron had come over, grabbing up a bottle of chilled Butterbeer. His face was flushed.

"I thought I'd never get out of there," Ron breathed after he had taken a swig.

Harry nodded as he drank from his goblet. They headed over to the desserts and Harry had found what he had been looking forward to; treacle tart. Ron shoveled a pie in his mouth nervously as Harry stood with his small plate. A few girls to Harry's left were looking over at them and smiling.

"There's quite a lot of single ladies here Harry," Ron said.

Harry shook his head quickly, grinning at the boy all though he didn't know why he was grinning.

"Come on mate, you should talk to at least one of them, find someone cheerful," Ron continued.

Harry laughed into his goblet and drank the rest of the drink down quickly.

"You should talk," Harry signed with his goblet in hand, the glass slipping a bit, "to Hermione."

"Hey…aren't you supposed to be keeping her away from Cormac? Where is that git anyway?" Ron said.

They both looked around. Ron's expression grew a bit horrified when the two of them spotted Hermione in the crowd, Cormac and another boy had joined the group of girls that Hermione was with. Cormac was right next to her.

"Oh…" Harry mouthed.

"That bloody—"

But Harry didn't hear him finish as Ron rushed toward the dancing mass of students. Harry ate the rest of his treacle tart and went over to the punch bowl again. He preffered the drink to Butterbeer. Cho was there as well, serving herself a goblet.

"Harry," she said when he had stood at her side.

"Hi," Harry lifted his left hand.

"Are you having a good time?" she asked, holding her pink glass.

Harry nodded, he felt like he was having a good time. He smiled at her.

"Isn't this delicious?" Cho said seeing that Harry was grabbing the ladle.

Harry nodded quickly.

"So…is he here?" Cho whispered although it was loud for Harry to be able to hear.

"Who?" Harry signed, his eyebrows lowering.

"_Him_..." she emphasized.

It took a moment for Harry to comprehend what she meant.

"No…I mean yes…" Harry signed. His mind felt a bit hazy for some reason. He was still smiling.

She took a drink in time with Harry and they had to move out of the way for others had come to get drinks.

"So…" she began again. "Are you going to dance with him? You should ask him! It would be perfect!"

"No, no, I can't do that," Harry signed as he put down his half empty glass.

"Why not?" Cho asked as she seemed genuinely disappointed with his decision.

"I couldn't do that," Harry signed. He had realized his head was moving up and down with the upbeat song that way playing now.

"Are you worried about what people will think?" Cho asked, her voice rising.

"Definitely," Harry signed. "It would…turn a lot of heads…possibly get some people killed…"

"What!?" Cho hadn't been following his signs for her attention had been on the band. "You should ask him! I'm sure no one will care! Being gay is fine!"

"But I'm not…" Harry began but she had looked back at the stage.

"Do you want to dance!? I don't know where Michael's gone off to!" Cho said.

"Uh…sure," Harry signed. He felt bad that he had left Hermione and forgotten about Cormac but she seemed to be having fun where she was in the group dancing nearest the stage, looking up at the four performers.

They drank the rest of their punch and set their goblets down. Cho pulled him toward the dance floor. The song that was playing was energetic and was having a certain encouraging effect on Harry. He was starting to feel happier, good and the booming bass of the song and its tempo seemed to be filling up his senses. He was slightly aware that he was embarrassed but his nerves were all but gone.

They moved to the middle of the dance floor. He did not see Hermione or Cormac in the mob of dancers but he caught sight of Ron with Lavender latching herself to him again. Cho took his hands, her body moving to the music. As the song played people began jumping as the lead singer was clapping his hands above his head as his band mates played, singing back up.

And something besides his own senses possessed him, he felt a burst of freedom in his chest, felt the strengthening thrill growing over the crowd, the lights above blinking in and out of the body of dancers. Confidence soared through him as he watched Cho spin happily, her dress glistening. He jumped with her and Seamus and Padma who were next to them. His limbs had loosened up, his feet no longer unsure, he was grinning widely, laughing as he spun Cho. Feet stomped, hands clapped, it grew hot around him, his face was flushed, he could not control the delight that spread through him or the ecstasy.

He had no worries here, not one ounce of stress. More people had joined their group, Dean and Ginny, Neville and Luna, and they danced in a circle. Harry had unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie a bit. They had raised their arms up mimicking Luna and spun, his feet moved on their own, no one could stop laughing; no one could stop moving with the song. Everyone grew closer to their group in the crowd, many eyes glued to Harry. It was fun, it was silly, it was so stirring.

He was out of breath when the song finally ended, red in the face and laughing along with Neville, Dean and Seamus. His collar was hot; his cheeks ached from grinning so much. The music stopped and he heard the lead singer announce they were taking a short break and that another singer was coming on stage, he hadn't heard the name over the claps and howls.

Harry watched as the four men left the stage and then the lights went out and the crowd had stilled, a sudden hush falling over them. A burst of glittered light engulfed them, fading away to dark again. There was a girl on stage, a young woman, tall and curvy. Diamonds of light lit up behind her. Her dirty blonde hair was long and teased, parts colored in bubblegum pink. She had very little on, a sort of one piece black corset outfit with sparkles of gold and a faded short leather jacket. Her long legs were clad in ripped stockings; she walked forward on high black pumps. Tied around her hips was a golden shawl that fell over her left leg. Harry couldn't even begin to describe her makeup; her eyes were masked with a dusty jet color and glittery gold, her lips a vicious glimmering red. Her pale blue eyes scanned the crowd.

A few people gasped. She was very provocative indeed. Harry could see McGonagall's appalled expression. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout looked surprised. Harry did not know who this witch was having very little knowledge of the wizarding world's music.

But the song began, the beat fast, the lyrics catchy, her performance somehow mesmerizing. It was easy to dance to but Harry was still out of breath and thirsty again. He pushed his way through the hopping, giddy crowd, feeling the bass in his chest and ears. Did Dumbledore really pick the performers? He laughed at that idea. He felt a bit lightheaded but his good mood could not be deterred.

He discovered Hermione however at the punch bowl drinking heavily from her goblet. She was flushed in the face and as breathless as Harry.

"Are you alright?" Harry signed before he picked up the ladle.

"I've just escaped," Hermione gasped.

Harry gave her a questioning look before taking a swig. He still couldn't figure out the taste that came after the fruitiness of it.

"Cormac…He's got more tentacles than a Snargaluff plant…" Hermione said as she fixed the strap of her dress and looked around for the tall boy.

"Ron hasn't asked you to dance?" Harry signed with the goblet in his hand.

"What? No…He's a bit preoccupied with Lavender, isn't he?" Hermione said bitterly.

"Git…" Harry said mutely. He smelt the drink in his goblet.

"Are you going to dance again?" Hermione asked.

"I thought I'd hang out for a bit," Harry signed, almost dropping the glass.

Hermione chuckled.

Harry looked over at the teachers' table. His heart was thumping in his chest, his cheeks were quite hot. Severus wasn't there. Disappointment sunk in his stomach.

A group of people headed over to them, Luna and everyone. They were all laughing and gasping for fresh air.

"Everyone's gone mad over there," Neville let out.

"It's so much fun!" Parvarti sang as she twirled with Padma before they seized two glasses of chilled cider.

"What time is it? I wonder if it's snowing again," Lavender said.

Hermione eyed the girl and Ron who looked at his watch.

"It's already nine thirty," Ron replied, glancing at Hermione.

They talked by the punch bowl for a while taking a rest from the rush of dancing to the pop music. Harry watched the witch dance on stage sort of entranced by her movements. His vision was blurring a bit. He swore he could smell something recognizable in the air around him but his muddled brain couldn't focus, the music must have been too loud to concentrate while everyone was shouting to be heard, talking about exam questions and what they could have gotten horribly wrong or not. He heard someone say "Snape" but when he had tuned into their gossip they were all laughing.

"I'm so used to his billowing!" Parvarti chortled and she proceeded to lift the back of her long gown, making it flutter.

Harry laughed because his good mood made him; a lot of things were becoming quite funny to him at the moment. Luna's very spiky purple earrings, her dreamy expression, the bright pink of Lavender's dress and Ron's matching necktie.

The evening wore on and they had danced again for a few songs until the girls had wanted to visit the washroom and Harry had gone with the boys to the loo as well. He had splashed water on his face that was still hot and when they all came back they were attracted to the dessert table. The witch was still on stage. People were still dancing, moving back and forth from the refreshment table to mingle and eat, the tables were occupied with tired students, single boys had finally gathered the courage to ask lonesome girls to dance.

He talked to Katie Bell for a while about Quidditch. Her face was flushed and she was smiling the whole time though Harry had briefly noticed that her speech was a bit run together and she laughed a lot. He had lost Hermione somewhere and Katie had asked to dance with him and he obliged easily. They danced together closer to the stage so that they were bumping into others but Harry couldn't care. He felt their bodies brush against his; everyone was jumping again, stomping and holding onto one another. Boys lifted up their dates who screamed as they were spun.

Katie twirled like a ballerina, her gown floating gracefully with her. She spun Harry and when he came to a stop the room kept spinning. He did not know how long they danced, all he was really aware of was how good it felt, how ecstatic his brain felt, his limbs as he swayed, impulse took charge of his body, there was applause all around, he was one with the crowd, intertwined, blending in as the song heightened, the tempo faster. He was rich with this feeling, the rush, the heat in his body, he was absorbed in it all, he hadn't felt like this before, it was enthralling.

He was able to catch glimpses of Seamus and Dean in the middle of the dance floor, he didn't know they could dance like that…He noted that Ms. Gardiner and Professor Royle were not at the teachers' table…They were pushed closest to the stage, his eyes were bombarded with the light behind the female singer. The stage was a mirror, gleaming and reflecting off her clothes…He was dizzy…His eyes met those black pools, deep, so deep, for a just moment, then they were on hers as she sang, her hips swinging, she winked at him and grinned…

Katie had spun again but she had lost her footing and leaned into Harry suddenly who tripped over his own feet. They fell together, Katie on top of him and all he could do was laugh, the action instant as he supported himself on his elbows. She was laughing as well as she tried to apologize. Random hands lifted them both up. Harry could hardly breathe; his heart was racing, his face aflame, the rainbow blinking lights made him a bit disoriented, the cadence of the song was pounding, energized.

He clambered through the mass of hysterical teenagers and took in a breath of fresh, cold air when he was free from them. His mouth was dry. He took off his jacket and placed it over a chair. He wondered where his friends were as he headed toward the refreshment table. That delicious punch was calling him. The witch had finished her performance and the four manned band was back, grabbing up their instruments as the crowd cheered and clapped and whistled.

He saw couples retreating, hand in hand, out of the Great Hall. He could not see the windows to look if it was snowing or not. Hermione was at the punch bowl again, her expression heavily forlorn, a few strands of her hair had come free.

"Oh Harry, it's you…" Hermione muttered. She held her green tinted glass in her hand.

"Are you ok?" Harry signed. His hands felt uncoordinated at the moment. He served himself a goblet full, drinking quickly.

"I don't understand…" Hermione said. Harry had to lean closer to hear her. Her brown eyes were somewhat glazed over.

"What—" Harry began, forgetting he couldn't speak.

"Maybe he doesn't love me…What if he doesn't love me Harry!?" Hermione spoke hastily, her words slightly mixing together. She spilt a bit of her drink on her dress. "Oh…shoot…"

Harry grabbed up a napkin and handed it to her.

"I mean…he keeps letting her snog him and grab at him, why?" Hermione slurred as she wiped hastily at the tiny spot.

Harry was having trouble forming sentences together in his head. His eyes moved about his empty goblet and her glass. He could smell that familiar scent still, it had grown stronger. What was it? He couldn't clear the haziness in his mind. And then it hit him, the only obvious answer. The punch had been spiked. There was alcohol, liquor, in the punch. That's why he was suddenly stress free, loose, wanting to dance and enjoy everything, he was intoxicated. All this time he had been consuming whatever kind of alcohol into his system mixed with the fruity drink. A very good amount if memory served correctly.

_Shit_ Harry thought.

And Hermione, how much had she drank? How long had she been alone by this punch bowl? How drunk were they? He had never been drunk before.

"I think we should eat something," Harry signed the best he could.

"How can I eat? Just looking at them makes me sick!" Hermione snapped. "He's an arse hole, Harry! Completely clueless! Does he think she's interesting!? More than me? I'm interesting, right!?"

"Of course—"

"I'm the smartest girl in this place!" Hermione blabbered on. "But how does that compare to boobs!? It doesn't! So what, I've got boobs, don't I Harry?"

"I shouldn't answer—"

"Better than hers! She isn't so pretty, that daft bimbo!" Hermione had come closer to Harry. "Doesn't he like me? I've liked him since _Third Year_. Does he see that!? _No!_ Of course not because he's Ronald Weasley! But when a girl like _Lavender_ all of a sudden likes him he's suddenly so perspe…perceptive!"

All Harry could do was stare at her with his blurred vision.

"How can he stand her!? Calling him _Won-Won? _She snogs like a…snail!" Hermione went on. Harry was aware that she wasn't making much sense and he wanted to laugh but was doing his best not to. "Look at them..." Hermione's eyes were on the crowd that was now slow dancing to a gentle song by the band.

Harry found Ron and Lavender in the crowd and they were clamped together, Lavender's head lying on the boy's shoulder. But Harry's eyes were quick to notice another couple on the dance floor. Ms. Gardiner and Severus were together. He blinked rapidly as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. But they weren't.

Severus was holding her waist, Ms. Gardiner's hand on the man's shoulder; their free hands were joined. They moved with grace, refinement, looking so elegant under the warm glow of light above. It was quite slow, tender, the man's posture very straight, shoulders back. They were looking at each other, Severus's face set in that composure, Ms. Gardiner laughed lightly…

Harry was confused and some part in his intoxicated brain had him feeling jealous again. Where was Royle to sweep her off her feet? Why was Severus...

"I got all dressed up for him…" Hermione was saying. "And he…he looks so handsome, doesn't he?"

"Yeah…" Harry said silently as his eyes were still on the two. There were many students looking at their Potions Master dancing with such a gorgeous woman. He was captivated by the man's form, his straight back, how good he looked in that tux, the pure white of his tie in contrast to all that black, his strong jaw, everything. Severus twirled her smoothly, his expression still so calm…

"I'm so angry…" Hermione breathed. "I should dance with Cormac."

Harry was nodding but then he was shaking his head at her.

"No, that's not a good idea," he signed.

"Well I don't want to stand here anymore! It's pathetic!" Hermione said, her face scrunched up in anger. She drank down the rest of her drink before Harry could stop her and slapped the goblet down on the table. "We should dance! We should just forget about everything and just _dance_, have fun! Maybe Snape'll be jealous and dance with you! They're going to be so jealous!"

He hadn't a clue as to what she was saying but before he could calm her down she had straightened her dress, grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the dance floor.

They finished the rest of the slow dance together and Harry's mind was mostly a field of haziness but he was still in that good mood; that excited state of sensitivity. The next song picked up in speed, the energy of the band grew with it and so did the crowd. Harry looked but Severus and Ms. Gardiner were gone from the floor.

And suddenly he was dancing more than he had the entire night. Hermione was elated, somewhat wild. The people around them spread out so they had more room. His feet felt as if they were moving across clouds; it was easy, his hands were steady, his movements sure as they matched with hers. They spun each other at the same time, laughing; her hips were moving and so were his, people clapped and whistled around them, they were a blur to his eyes, his vision was lost in the deep red of her fluttering dress, her happy eyes, her confidence climbing with his.

He had never seen Hermione like this and of course the alcohol was to blame. He felt light on his toes, they made up their dance as they went along, he couldn't lie, he loved it, he loved the freedom of it, forgetting about everything as if tomorrow would never come and this night, this dance would be forever. He didn't feel so important, he was just one of them, nobody, normal, there wasn't darkness growing over his horizon, there weren't any demons to purge this bliss, the loneliness was gone, put to sleep as he stared hard into her knowing eyes…

He had lifted her, her hands using his shoulders as leverage. When he brought her down his hands brushed across her arms and their hands interlinked, clasped together tightly, the music was mounting, the bass alive in their hearts, neither one knew who had started it but they were spinning, revolving in a speeding circle, fast, dizzy, their feet trying to keep up with the motion of it. Hermione was laughing, her head back and then smiling at him as Harry laughed, feeling light as air. Eager fear rushed up inside of him. Their eyes were locked and round and round they went.

They had both lost their grip and were sent backward. Hermione gasped but somehow Ron was right there to catch her along with Cormac. It all happened quickly to Harry's whirling, chasing sight. Ron had shoved Cormac away from Hermione who looked much too dizzy and gleeful to notice what was going on. Before Cormac or Lavender could protest Ron clutched Hermione's hand in his, pulling her through the crowd.

Harry hadn't known who had caught him before he fell. Another slow song was beginning. He staggered a bit amongst them. He was winded. He felt like he was running but he wasn't. They were all dancing, swaying, hands touched him, he could hardly tell what he was doing now, he might have slow danced with a few girls who had tugged at his wrists, smelt their perfume, flowers and citrus and sugary scents and alcohol and heat. His eyes felt heavy. Lights passed through the crowd, through their bodies, the music, the song, swept over him, through the satin of his vest and the cotton of his shirt, on his skin. It was hot, his body was hot. He wanted to be free from their hands, the hands that grabbed at him, felt him, he heard their laughter, he couldn't breathe, was he awake? He couldn't tell. Where was Severus? Had someone taken his glasses? His vision was so distorted.

He had tripped, he had fallen forward, the song that played had reached a towering point, a lyric stretched long and loud. Was he smiling? He couldn't tell. His heartbeat felt like it was building with the noise, there was so much of it.

Warm hands caught his shoulders, wrapping themselves around the back of his neck, they tugged him forward, he saw green and then red and so suddenly her lips had pressed, _pushed_ against his own. Someone was kissing him, she was kissing him, who was kissing him, whose tongue was in his mouth? Swiping across, sneaky, abrupt, slick, heat, wet.

The world around him broke through the fog.

His hands rushed to her chest forcing her body away, those lips broke free from his, he was gasping for oxygen but there was none, not in this crowd, his face was on fire.

Ginny's wide eyes appeared out of the trembling air. Her pink lips were parted, her face stunned. Harry's own eyes were broad, the blue bright and polished, his face pale and cheeks flushed.

"Harry…" she muttered.

Harry had turned; he was hurrying through the crowd before he could figure out why. He needed to leave, he needed air.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _

The word kept repeating itself in Harry's mind. What was wrong with him? He couldn't think even though he desperately wanted to be able to think. She had kissed him. He had let her kiss him. He hadn't meant it, it wasn't his fault, it was Ginny's, _Ginny's. _

His legs felt tired and woozy, he could hardly see, he didn't have his glasses on. But he was at last free from the mob of dancers. He pushed his legs forward, his steps were unsure but he managed to reach the entrance hall. He climbed the staircases, lost in confusion and wiping at his lips with his sleeve. He was afraid. He had been careless. But how could he have stopped her? And Dean?

_Shit. _

He felt like an idiot. His eyes stung. He was walking down a corridor, he did not know what floor he was on but all he could see was the large balcony ahead that looked over the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts. In seconds the cold wintry air was hitting his face. His back had fallen against the archway. He took in deep breaths, the frigid air clearing his mind somewhat. He was shivering. His thoughts were buzzing in his head like a swarm of bees. Had Severus seen it?

He could hear the band playing still; he mustn't have come too far from the Great Hall. The sky was dark with heavy clouds as he leaned his head to gaze up at it. The corridor was lit up with candlelight. He knew two things: He was drunk. Ginny had kissed him.

He rubbed at his face as if it would help his intoxicated body. He was beginning to feel cold standing by the balcony; he had left his jacket in the Hall. He placed his hands behind him, resting his head against the stone, looking up at the half night sky, half ceiling.

It was then that he heard footsteps. His head fell, turning to face the person that was walking with long strides over to him. Harry blinked, staring intently at the blurred tall black form making its way over to him. Before he knew it he was staring into those inky wells.

"Harry…"

The velvet voice had called his name.

He was finally close to the man, close enough to touch but he couldn't move, couldn't breathe again. Severus. It was so lovely. The man looked so sophisticated, he could see him better now, he could see the black tux, the material, that white tie that attracted his eyes so much. The love in his heart was drowning him.

The man eyed him up and down. Harry could see the desire, the want, that _greed _almost embedded in those eyes. Harry was embarrassed. How did he look? He didn't know. But Severus was looking at him like that, so enticing, so loving, so needing. And Severus was seeing him like this; his glasses missing somewhere, dizzy, guilty, confused, under those transfixing depths. Had the man seen him dancing? Of course he had. It was embarrassing. He was drunk _and_ now he was horny.

It was difficult to control his will. He kept to the wall as Severus stood in front of him.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked gently.

"I…I lost my glasses somewhere…" Harry signed though he wasn't sure if he had done so correctly.

Severus took his hands into his own. They were warm.

"You, Mr. Potter, are inebriated," Severus said in that silky tone.

"No…Yes…" Harry had shaken his head and then began to nod which made him see two of the man.

"Am I sloshed?" Harry said the mute words, raising his eyebrows.

"Not quite," Severus said.

"What was it?" Harry's hands were still held by Severus's own, he wasn't even sure if he could sign at the moment.

"Vodka," Severus said in an affirmative tone. The man had a just smile on his face.

"Really?"

"Positive," the man said.

"It was good," was all Harry could say soundlessly. "I mean…I didn't know…I'd never…not intentionally…" Was Severus understanding him? He didn't know. He felt foolish, his face was still hot.

"You were quite…unrestrained this evening," Severus said, his velvety voice cascading onto Harry's ears.

"I'm sorry…" The man's touch was soothing, he wanted more of it.

"I liked it," Severus said in just above a whisper. The man's hand had come up, his fingertips holding his chin gently, brushing against his skin. "But of course such reckless abandonment can be…hazardous."

Harry's eyes broadened slightly.

"I didn't mean for her to kiss me…I didn't want her to—" But his hasty silent words were cut off because Severus bent down swiftly and captured his shaky lips with a kiss.

His mind grew hazier. Severus had him up against the wall, kissing him deeply. Strong hands began to roam over his clothes, a hand brushing up his thigh, over his hip, another journeying up his stomach, his chest, over buttons; he felt the pressure of it, the hunger of these hands. Severus was tasting him. He was pulled from the wall and against the man's front.

Harry's hands were bold as he placed them upon Severus's torso feeling the fabric of the jacket, the muscle underneath. He wanted this man. Severus's hands felt up his back and down to feel up his arse. Harry grinned into the kiss despite his blushing cheeks. The man's hands made their way to the sides of his face, warmth meeting the searing heat.

Their lips parted slowly. Arousal was stirring in his body. Severus smelt good, a cologne his nose wasn't familiar with. Harry's glossy eyes looked over the man's face.

"I want to dance with you," Severus whispered, his breath caressing Harry's lips.

And whatever bravery that had begun to seize his senses was frightened away, his expression filling with unease.

Severus straightened himself, his hands taking Harry's own once more. He pulled Harry lightly onto the balcony, out into the frigid air. Harry looked over the stoned barrier, at the night shadows that fell upon the snowy ground below, reminding him of the surface of a bright full moon.

"I can't dance—"

"Liar," Severus said with a short smirk. "I saw everything." The man looked intimidating in the dark even with the light of the corridor spilling out onto the balcony. Harry's heart was shaking. Tiny clouds of mist escaped their lips.

"I'm clumsy…"

"It's all I want," Severus said quietly, those black eyes were ensnaring. "Especially when you look so…seductive this evening."

Seductive? Did Severus just call _him_ seductive?

Another song had begun, clear to their ears, the melody and lyrics building.

"This will have to do," Severus said.

A hand came into his left, lifting it and holding tightly while the other fell upon his back. Harry placed his right hand timidly on the man's chest, over his heart. The nerves had suddenly returned, his shoulders stiff again, his mind blank or full of swirling vapor, his own heart drumming away crazily, he couldn't feel his legs.

But they began to move steadily, Severus leading him. Though the man's eyes were locked on Harry, Harry kept looking down to make sure his feet were following properly and not shuffling.

"You're alright," Severus said softly. "I'm not much of a dancer."

"Liar…" Harry muttered mutely.

"Look at me," Severus said.

Harry did so, raising his head, holding tight to the man's hand as if he would fall otherwise. The song had grown in volume, the rhythm quickening, they moved a bit faster, swaying. They were close. Harry could feel the man's heart beating, the heart that cared, felt, loved. There was that devotion in the man's eyes, shining, careful.

When the song came to a certain high point Severus held up the hand that held Harry's and Harry, though surprised, spun and Severus brought him close again, his hand lower on Harry's back. Harry laughed, bowing his head as he smiled. His eyes stung again.

He loved Severus, entirely.

He was so happy.

In a quick graceful movement Severus had dipped him slightly. The song ended. Harry's eyes were staring up into the man's own. He could feel the man's hand underneath the curve of his back, he felt almost suspended there as it started to snow.

"I love you," Severus said with conviction.

And Harry's foot slipped or jerked, whatever way it had happened he still fell, his hand tugging accidentally on the man's tie. He shut his eyes against the sensation. It didn't hurt too much when he hit the ground for Severus had managed to catch his head which was spinning again. One of Harry's knees was up as he was flat on his back. Severus was on his hands and knees on top of him.

It was faint at first, the man's laughter, but Harry could hear it. He opened his eyes to the sound. Severus's eyes were closed and he was smiling. Harry had never seen such amusement in the man's features before. Severus's waved locks framed his face, shadowing it. The laughter built up justly, it was deep, the man's chest quivered with it. His eyes opened, the black pools mixed with mirth and desire.

"I'm sorry," Severus breathed, creating that mist.

His laughter died out much to Harry's disappointment. He wanted to hear it again, almost desperately.

Severus's left hand was on the side of his face, his thumb brushing the blush there. Harry's hands were unmoving at his sides. He could see the man's white tie, a fine diamond pattern embroidered in the silk. Harry's eyes found the sky and the snowflakes that adorned it. They were blurred, reflecting like little ornaments in the darkness. They floated down in a hurry, catching in their hair.

A certain sorrow made its way into Harry's heart.

God how he wanted to _say_ those words. Tears swam up in his vision regardless of how much he tried to stop them.

"Harry…" Severus whispered and there was worry in that velvet.

Harry shut his eyes. His head hurt, pounded with pressure. He didn't want to be dizzy anymore.

_Please…just give it back…_ The pleading words collided with each other in his mind. His throat muscles hurt, stung with the effort, there was a lump stuck there. His bottom lip trembled. He took in a deep breath so that something could fill him, his body that felt so ethereal in this moment.

He brought his hands up to cover his eyes, wiping at the tears. The ground was cold. Severus leaned in and he was being kissed. In spite of his inebriated state he could feel everything, the leaping sparks of pleasure that were sent throughout his body because of such a kiss, the arousal surfacing again. He wanted those hands on him, touching him, rubbing and stroking. The stimulation felt so alive over his skin, racing over it.

It was quiet now; he could barely hear the instrumental music playing. The band must have left. How late was it?

Their lips separated. The mist of their breaths rose up, taken by the wind that hurried by.

Harry stared up at Severus. Harry's eyes were red rimmed but the tears had ceased.

"We can be together tomorrow…have dinner…" Severus said quietly.

Harry nodded. He couldn't wait. His eyes took in the man the best he could, the black and the white.

"You're handsome…" the silent words left his lips.

"Don't temp me, Harry," Severus said.

The man stood bringing Harry up with him. Harry leaned against him, closing his eyes. He was sleepy. Harry hadn't noticed his body was shivering.

"Here," the man said softly. Harry took a small step away and watched as Severus took off his tux's jacket and brought it around him, placing it over his shoulders. Harry felt the flush in his cheeks and held the jacket that Severus's body heat was attached to. This action was so ordinary, so common to couples, he thought gradually as he stood there and the snow was falling gracefully, light living in the tiny flakes that seemed to reflect his overwhelming emotion of love, of this connection that had grown between them and how lost he would be if it had not. He held tighter to the jacket as Severus came close to him once more.

It was lovely, this night under this snowy sky; he almost didn't want it to end, as if this moment that his drunken mind had fallen in love with so much could be captured in a globe, perfect and safe.

They stared out upon the shadowed atmosphere and flickering flecks of white for a while and the man was silent. Harry looked down at the man's shined dress shoes, his breath of steam rushing through the air. He reached out and took Severus's cooling left hand into his right. He didn't look up. He kept his dizzy focus fastened to their linked hands, noticing the certain cufflink that accompanied his little window; it was a tiny silver hourglass with blue sand inside.

He smiled again. And Harry felt the fist in his heart, the vulnerability of his love, he felt human, _so_ human in this ending moment. How could this ever end?

"Harry…" the velvet voice above said, reaching into his fond daydream and bringing him back to their wake.

He looked up. They stared at each other in the frosty motionless quiet. He didn't blink.

And he didn't know why he did it but he did; he slipped his hand away from Severus's and with icy, clumsy fingers Harry took off his onyx made cufflink, undoing it from the black cuff. Holding the little window in one hand, his breath somewhat seized up, his cheeks aflame despite the biting cold, he took Severus's wrist gently and undid the miniature hourglass, his fingertips trembling. When it was off he placed the back of the window cufflink into the holes of Severus's cuff and turned it. All this time he had not looked at the man even when he put the small silver hourglass into the holes of his own shirt cuff.

Harry didn't really care that their cufflinks were mismatched now or that he had taken Severus's without asking the man at all and he had no idea if the thing was expensive or not. All he knew was that he wanted something he could touch to remember this night no matter if their nights similar to that were held in their unknowable future; this night had happened and somewhere in his blurry thoughts he wanted proof of it, something tangible to fit the memory.

He felt the man's fingertips brush against the side of his face and the tingling sensations it sent through his skin and into his chest. His eyes seemed to take a moment to reach Severus's inky depths.

"You need to drink water before you go to bed," Severus said with softness, "or you'll regret it in the morning."

They were just simple recommending words but those eyes spoke of such intimate things, expressed dictions that were ultimately heartfelt, transcendental, absolute, endearing, and honorable. They were there, endlessly.

"I like dancing with you…" Harry said mutely.

Severus was silent but his eyes were kind.

"Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'd like to say good night to everyone," Harry signed as he came away from the man.

So they walked together and when they reached the bottom of the grand staircase Harry was surprised to see Ron and Hermione just outside the large oak doors of the castle in the falling snow. Mistletoe hung above them. They were close, Ron holding Hermione's waist. The boy's pink tie was on the ground as if it had been thrown carelessly.

"Of course you're interesting," Ron muttered before he began to kiss the girl with fervor.

Harry grinned.

"Good night," Severus said when they reached the Great Hall's door. Harry took off the man's jacket and handed it carefully back to him.

"Night," Harry signed.

Severus headed off toward the entrance to the dungeons. Harry watched him walk, eyes held on those strong shoulders and straight back so outlined by the pitch black attire; black had always suited the man. He saw the small glimmer of a cufflink as Severus turned, got a glimpse of that composed state absorbed in the man's face before he was gone.

The Great Hall was still cast in that dim light. Many people had left. The buffet line looked raided. There were a few couples dancing on the floor still. Neville and Luna were one of them. He smiled softly as he saw Professor Royle and Ms. Gardiner, holding each other, swaying, just together in the light music that filled the Hall.

He did not see Ginny or Dean. He didn't want to think about what had happened after she had kissed him.

Harry found his jacket and was relieved to see his glasses on the table. He put them on and sat in the chair, leaning back with his jacket over him. The crystal flames in the centerpiece still flickered. There were Christmas crackers strewn about the table along with empty plates and glasses. He sat there feeling a growing peace settle within him.

He would tell Severus tomorrow no matter what, tomorrow when his head was clear, tomorrow when he would be ok with not being able to say the words...

He sat there, his eyes watching the slow dancers, the empty stage. Ms. Gardiner was smiling, her eyes shut. Royle whispered something into her ear. They were wonderful together.

The night was winding down; he was exhausted, his body hurt. He stared at his sleeve, at the droplets of water where the snow melted, at the miniature hourglass and its sapphire sand. His mind played back the dance he had shared with the man, their first dance, he could have dreamt it. He closed his eyes.

One thought drifted through his pounding head ache: This love was true. And another, drowsily:

Severus looked quite sexy in a tux.

* * *

(Long but please read if you have the time)

A/N:

Hello there. I want to apologize for how long it took to get these two chapters up. I hope the readers enjoyed them. I'm not very good at humor but I hope some parts were funny.

While writing this I listened to the band Imagine Dragons, the album Night Visions, I love their music. While writing the scene where Royle goes to Ms. Gardiner I played _My Fault _and while writing Harry and Severus's dancing scene I played _Demons. _I think that song suits Severus very much in my opinion.

Please review if you have the time and if you want tell me which POV you read first : ) Your reviews are highly appreciated and encourage the story of course.

I apologize for any errors I may have missed.

To come in Chapter 38: Harry and Severus's holiday and that's it, lots of good things to happen in the next chapter, I hope you look forward to it.

Also, I did more research on BSL/ASL because of something my ASL teacher said to me last semester when she told us what her friends/family use as her "sign name" though I do not know who gave her the sign name (it is different I assume for her local deaf community) or if she might have made it up herself. I learned about sign names which I wish I had known about before writing this story but alas I can work with what I know now.

Sign names are invented signs that are given to someone by someone from the deaf community (a person's local deaf community) but as I researched further I discovered that not all sign language users and people in the deaf community or people who are deaf and do not have many deaf friends think that way, some think it is fine to make up your own sign name. Sign names usually describe your personality or your looks (it can be something unique about you as well) and can be an altercation of an actual sign and in some cases a sign that exists already. But I believe that in deaf communities that are very close they must believe strongly of the rule that a native signer should give a non native signer a sign name. It's like a gift basically or an honor.

As I have learned in BSL children usually receive their sign names in school and sometimes the teacher will let the children give each other their sign names, I would think it would be a fun activity. Sign names can change throughout a deaf person or hard of hearing person's life because they may move or make new friends and become a part of another local deaf community.

If I'm not making sense you can google sign names.

So, to explain Sophia Gardiner I can make this correction: I would say that her sign name (BSL sign for flower) would only really be used in her small family, her mother, her sister, and her father. They would also sign "Sof" for short. Her mother (a muggle) would be the one to give it to her because this is her daughter of course and she taught her daughter BSL. Flowers are pretty and Ms. Gardiner loves flowers and it fits with her surname so in her small family that is her sign name. It is only her family using the sign so they wouldn't have a problem not understanding who they are referring to.

Knowing that she works with deaf patients at her muggle office and their relationship is professionally based and at home maybe her patients would make up their own name sign for her to be used with their family and friends in their local deaf community, I would assume that with Ms. Gardiner they would sign "doctor" or her initials but I may be wrong.

Now as I understand sign names (I am not absolutely positive) but for larger groups (i.e. schools, university, clubs, church, ect.) if you are a hearing person they may give you your sign name which would normally be a sign that doesn't exist as to not be confused with other signs but I have read on a few sites for both BSL/ASL that people can be given signs that actually exist for their sign names, I would think it depends on how you know the group of people, especially if they are your family (could be a mix of hearing family members and deaf family members) then certain traditions don't apply.

But I will mention again I am no expert and am not fluent in ASL and definitely not BSL so I could be wrong on some points and learning sign language with the people you see in your daily life you could have different views on sign names and follow your own traditions.

I do know that many deaf communities consider it a rule to have someone (a native signer) from their local deaf community give you a sign name and I also know that many deaf people who use sign language go their whole lives without a sign name.

I would think that in the context of this story it definitely falls under different meaning.

If you are interested in knowing: In Harry's case, he fingerspells people's names or shortens them by using their initials. He doesn't know much about sign names, just Ms. Gardiner's. So for example in the last Chapter Harry was telling Hermione about how she could even think of using Cormac to make Ron jealous so I would think even though he was mouthing "Cormac" he would sign it as "C. M." for Cormac McLaggen. I hope that makes sense…

For Snape he would either fingerspell Snape or use "S.S."

If referring to a girl or boy as he or she (well this is the rules under ASL) he would point to nothing in particular if that person weren't around or fingerspell "he" or "she".

To me I don't think Harry would have a sign name because Ms. Gardiner isn't deaf.

When meeting new people who are deaf and usually in an ASL class you would fingerspell your name mostly always.

If any of the readers who are ASL fluent or BSL fluent care to comment on "sign names" please do so and I hope I am not wrong on this but if I am I apologize.

Comments, questions, concerns, complaints? Don't hesitate to PM me.

I hope everyone is well.


	39. Chapter 37 (2): Shadow upon Snow

I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Warning: This chapter contains M/M. Don't like it, don't read it. Thank you.

* * *

**This is SNAPE'S POV: **

**Chapter 37: Shadow upon Snow **

..._Lily_…

How that name had been so engraved into his mind, his bones, his wistful, frayed soul, like a sweet epitaph washed out by the rain of his macerated regret. He had never put flowers on her grave, never visited her grave and he had thought it was because he would always be in mourning, that some part of him would never accept that she was gone, like a dream he would forever keep hidden, folded up like the paper cranes she would always make when they were children, weaved into his body like the daisy chains she would fiddle with in that park.

He recalled those nights, long and shadowed and fused to aching misery where he would spend them remembering her as if she were in the room with him, talking to him and he had thought himself insane then, perhaps he had gone insane for a while, had forgotten about life entirely, about the sky, about the sun's warmth, about air, everything. Those days had been the darkest, the bleakest, the most crooked and terrifying, but they were unfeeling and the tears that would come would be unfeeling, and his ripping heart didn't exist in his chest cavity.

But he would remember her to the single very last detail. He had memorized her face so well that he could never forget it. And yet they had been fifteen and after that day where their friendship was cut he was never able to get close to her again.

He believed, almost gullibly, that he knew her best, knew what made her smile, laugh, sad, angry, knew it all but it hadn't been true. There had always been a kind of wall between them. They didn't think in the same way no matter how intelligent they were, she hadn't believed in things that he did. He knew she would never change, that there was nothing he could do to make her change because how could he steal the parts of her that were the reasons that he loved her? She was everything good in the world, everything he thought to be what made people weak, what he thought to be unimportant in one's life when compared to having that power, that pride, that strength his mother nor father never possessed.

Lily was kind, special, she was soulful, loving and true and loyal and open. And above all else, above everything that he was so flawed with, the one thing he could never be all those years ago; she had been so caring. She stood up for what was right, what had always been right, she stood on that path that he could never see. No, their paths would never cross. They had met that summer after he had spent days and days watching her, the only reprieve he had from that house.

It wasn't meant to be no matter how much he loved her.

He had made his choices, chosen his way long before seeing those eyes. Her eyes, no matter how beautiful or wondrous they had been, they would never have persuaded his belief. And perhaps, because it was meaningless to think about it now, perhaps a small part of him felt that he would never deserve her, perhaps all of him had thought that...

She was his first love. Yes he had been young but he had not looked at life with that child innocence, never trusted anything blindly, never anything or anyone unconditionally. There was no room in that house for such things, that creaky, somber, dejected home. How he had wanted with clawed desperation to break down its walls, the ugliness of it, the memories that howled through the corridors, in the worn wood, the sins that garnished it, seeped through the planks.

Of course no one lived there now. All that occupied those rooms was dust and piled boxes and stacks upon stacks of old books. He sometimes visited in the summer, just once, for whatever reason he could not conjure.

A broken home, how fitting the term was.

Love. He had loved her but the obsession outweighed the good things that loving someone created, it darkened them out, faded like the aged photos in that haunting house, like the graphite in the old letters he had written but never gave to her.

His love for her had not been strong enough to endure temptation, to endure against the artificial power that he was promised. The darkness inside of him had eclipsed her heart, the light she was for him, the flame smothered by his own hands. She could never deserve the monster that he was, the selfish being he was. It had pained her to know she could only give up on him, her fear was too great, her soul too pure, too unmarked to flourish against his own.

But that was life and it didn't matter how much he knew her, it didn't compare to how different they had become. Lily had known it, Severus was definitely aware of it. And yet somewhere in his mind he believed her to be his. Maybe he had thought she was there for him, that it wasn't just coincidence that they lived close to one another, maybe she was the one chance he had to turn away from the sinful life he would lead just for the sake of power, of revenge on a life he had felt so powerless in.

Who was to blame? Who pushed him to live such a life?

He knew better then to blame it on the tormentor that James Potter was; Potter had not done on him the sort of damage his father was known for inflicting. Well, no one knew just how bad it was in that house, the neighbors shied away, ignored the noise, the shouts and screams and he had been a silent crier anyway. His mother? Who never once protected him? Who took it all without ever fighting back and then the next day forget it ever happened until it was due to repeat itself when the light hours of the morning would burn out and his father would come home from the filth job he had just to afford the amount of alcohol he consumed every night?

He had thought Hogwarts would have become an escape from all that. But it was him, _he_ who he could never escape from, his body, his mind, his welted heart; bruises heal but memories last for as long as you remember them, ignorance thrives for as long as you keep it fed. The blame was on him. Life was hard; no matter what kind of life one leads it will always find a way to make you hate something.

And Lily?

Life had handed her, such a loving, caring, kind being, the worst end possible. What did he believe? All those years ago in that house, that warm, lively house in Godric's Hollow? That if the Dark Lord ever found them, her? That she wouldn't protect her baby? That she would give him to the Dark Lord to spare her life? Wouldn't sacrifice herself even if the Dark Lord had granted his request? Throw herself in front of Death's opening arms to save her boy? This was Lily, a woman whose family had meant everything to her, whose son was the only light in her life that she would need. Not him, never him. What would have become of her if she had lived and her son had not?

She would have died either way.

But he had believed back then that as long as she lived he could live though they would never be together; she would never love him, cherish him, be anything for him, their paths would never cross, their souls would never meet and he would never convey his feelings to her for they would always remain chained to what he had chosen in place of her, before her. He had tried to save her, to save her from the unforgivable thing he had done.

And Harry?

Life had stayed in him, he lived while she died. What did he believe? Why did the boy live? To destroy the Dark Lord? Was that his destiny? Fate? How he hated the meaning of that word. But Harry was always saving people, risking his own life, protecting others with a kindness that possibly outweighed Lily's own, such compassion was immeasurable. Harry had been a stranger to him for so long; he had ignored Harry's existence for so long. Yes, he tortured him, humiliated him, ridiculed and demeaned him but it was all for James, all for his own sickening pride, his broken self, his lashing bitterness.

There was the line that had made itself known that past summer and Harry was there, alive and real and Severus could not stop himself from caring about Harry, from loving Harry. It was no use. His heart, that had been so bound to Lily for years and years that shed not one spark of happiness inside of him, that had been mangled and deadened and ice cold for so long, his heart grasped for that love, leeched off it, and so suddenly he was _feeling_ again.

He was not bound anymore.

He loved her, Lily, he would always remember how he loved her, how she had once brought him happiness, had cared enough to try to help him find the path she was set on, but he would no longer be bound to her.

Did he deserve to be free from the grief and the guilt? He didn't know but he wanted, _chose_ to _live. _He believed he was alive, here, for a reason. If that wasn't true then so be it but he could believe in that.

So, with Lily, with this love he held so dearly, for so long, the seed that would never grow, he freed it. And it had slipped away effortlessly when his love for Harry had been realized. He wasn't sad. This would never hurt her.

Life and love, he believed now that there was no living without love.

He liked the man he had become because of Harry.

He could be thankful to her, to Lily. Because of her he never forgot what it was like to love someone and that a man such as him, despite all the dark things inside of him, how they always lurked there, that he _could_ love.

Severus would forever remember all that she had given him.

With unblinking eyes he watched the old wizard drink the potion from the golden goblet. Dumbledore looked very tired today, very weak. Severus hoped that the potion would relieve some of the strain the dark curse was causing on his body.

Severus waited as the Headmaster set the cup down. There was a bit more color in his face now.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly.

Severus did not reply. He was thinking too much, his mind was wandering. It had been more than two months since he had given the Dark Lord the ingredients that he required. How long did this potion take to brew? He had thought that by now something would have been put into motion, that he would have heard something by now. But no, the Dark Lord's location still remained secret and what few Death Eaters that were not in Azkaban were not aware of it either. He believed that Bellatrix Lestrange must know but it would be impossible to wheedle any information out of her since she stuck to the Dark Lord's side like a loyal lap dog.

And now Malfoy's son would most certainly be initiated. He would not be called for such a ceremony considering his position but he knew what it would be like for the boy and that Draco Malfoy would never be the same because of it.

The day Harry had been attacked by the boy was difficult to look back on. He didn't want to remember Harry's blood spattered face or the nasty wound that had been inflicted on him, the jagged slash through his side, how pale he looked, how afraid. He hadn't been there to save him; it had been Royle who he had held much distrust towards until that day. It was becoming easier to realize just how far the man was from the dark, he had almost died for Harry. He didn't know what to think because of that, he owed the man, secretly, he owed the man…

But his worries were not quelled. Despite what little relays he had done for the Order and the ingredients he had sought after his skills as a spy were not really being constructive as of late. He was supposed to keep Harry safe and yet he did not even know what the Dark Lord was conspiring, the Dark Lord, who within these past six months, was so reserved, guarded, with everyone. He had always been that way of course but Severus usually received some sort of hint of what was to happen regarding Harry Potter.

It made him anxious.

But there was something to distract himself from all of that.

He had confessed. He had told Harry that he loved him, given Harry his memories, told Harry the truth about his mother, about Lily. The man before him now was not aware of this of course. And it would remain that way.

"So Severus, Sophia tells me that you and Harry are back on good terms," Dumbledore said calmly.

Severus was still silent.

"Does this mean you have forgiven yourself?" Those aged blue eyes gazed into his.

"I was able to face Harry again…" Severus said with tranquility. "And Ms. Gardiner made it clear that…"

"Harry gains strength from you," Dumbledore finished softly.

"Yes…" Severus replied somewhat stiffly.

"As much solace Harry finds in you Severus…I had hoped you would find it in him as well…" Dumbledore said, folding his hands upon the desk and looking down upon the empty goblet before him. "I'm pleased that I was right to believe in such a thing…"

He didn't know how to feel because of the man's words, a dying man's words. He was still very unaware of what Dumbledore was planning for Harry, what Harry was supposed to do to end the Dark Lord's reign. All he wanted was for the boy to be safe and yet he wouldn't give up the relationship he shared with Harry. Ignoring it had only hurt the boy and he wouldn't do that again.

How long did he have to keep playing both sides? When would he be allowed to join Harry in the blinding light that he basked in? He knew it was crucial for the Dark Lord to keep his trust in him but when would it be too much of a risk to maintain the act he portrayed every time he was summoned? If Harry needed him more…? It was worthless to contemplate over ideas like this.

"You still leave the castle…in the state that you're in…" Severus almost whispered. His heart felt restricted.

"Severus…"

"The time you have is running thin, Headmaster…" Severus said and his black eyes were set harshly into the wary blue. "He is planning something, something treacherous that he only entrusts in himself to accomplish…"

"I cannot risk you knowing, Severus, please understand," Dumbledore spoke carefully. "I know you fear for Harry's life as do I…and it is deeply unfortunate that such burdens are placed upon…a boy like Harry…but do not talk as if hope does not exist, Severus."

Severus wanted to cringe at how maudlin those words sounded. Of course there was hope, hope was the only thing that could convince him most nights or else he would go mad with such trepidation. But it was a challenge to believe that Harry was powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord, to kill the Dark Lord. Murder was not in the boy's heart no matter how endless his courage was. The Dark Lord was merciless, a monster like that could not be controlled. How would Harry deal with the viciously sadistic mind that belonged to such a monster?

Harry was too kind.

He used to believe that the trait was a weakness but now he could see that it had always been Harry's greatest strength. There were things that Harry possessed that the Dark Lord did not but would that be enough to keep him alive?

"I just don't want him to lose himself in all of this," Severus said too softly. "He almost did with Black…And whatever it is you must ask from him…have him do…"

"I am aware of how much time I have Severus, that I won't be here much longer to stand in the way of the Dark Lord…I know it has come much too soon…and I am to blame," Dumbledore said reproachfully. "We all have our…company of mistakes, regrets…and I would have preferred a cleaner conscience at the end…but I know that Harry has someone at his side that will always give him the sort of…refuge I was never capable of providing him; constancy."

"He has always looked to you, for_ all_ of the answers—" Severus began.

"I failed him…When Sirius died, I failed Harry, tremendously," Dumbledore said. Those old eyes rested on his black ones. "I have tested him, put such faith in him when he was much too young while at the same time I tried to protect him from the truth…And you, who never saw the famous scar, who belittled his courage with great persistency, who had no faith in him at all…You kept him grounded, Severus…you always have. You have been the most loyal to him, Severus. Not me."

He couldn't respond. Those tired eyes reminded him of just how many sacrifices everyone had made because of the Dark Lord, how much suffering. Did he believe the old man did not care? How could he? Yes, he was manipulative in the most exasperating ways, secretive, a puzzle that Severus wanted to break rather than solve. But after all these years he had learned to expect the harsh reality that the outcomes of the man's decisions would contain some amount of unfavorable aspects, a great amount at times.

Did he believe Dumbledore's highest priority was Harry's safety? No. Did he believe the man felt guilty for threatening that innocence that still somehow managed to exist in those bright eyes? Yes, partially. But he had to remember just how much the old wizard could be right, that he was capable of protecting Harry. There was proof of it; the Dark Lord had yet to be victorious, had not enslaved the whole of the Wizarding World thus far.

He let the anxiety that coursed through him free. There was the here and now that he wanted, desired to focus on…

The silence around the office was making his skin itch.

"Are you going to the ball tonight?" Dumbledore asked.

Ah yes, the insufferable ball, how could he have forgotten? Or more like how could he not be aware of the blasted thing when he had spent the week breaking up such giddy gossiping girls numerous of times during his classes? How he despised such talk of dresses and gowns and shoes and the bubbly noises they could make.

"Is it mandatory?" Severus muttered.

"No…but I would prefer it if you dropped in," Dumbledore said. The atmosphere in the room seemed to have lightened.

"I'll think about it," he said.

_Idiot, of course you're going. If Harry's going, you're going._

Severus inwardly grimaced at his thoughts.

_How will he look? All debonair and proper? As much as you like the jeans he wears a change of appearance isn't unwelcomed…_

_ Enough of that! _Severus shouted inside his head as he glared at his tea cup.

_What? What's so bad about it? You think he won't have you in mind when he turns up in the Great Hall? Remember, don't try too hard or you'll look desperate._

_ I said enough!_ Severus hissed to his disorderly thoughts.

_ But that body in a form fitting tux? How could you not be desperate? See you're picturing it, ha! How can you say you don't want to dance with him and then whisk him away to your bed and ravish him? _

_ This is ridiculous, stop this…inappropriate dialogue! _Severus snapped.

_But it's been almost two months and you still haven't given in, if that isn't willpower I don't know what is. Do you think he's done it? He's a teenager after all, hormones raging and everything, hard not to give in to a good wank—_

"Severus?"

"Yes?" Severus said suddenly and much louder than he would have liked, not believing he had fought with his own mind for a whole minute.

"I was saying that Professor McGonagall has shown me the list of students going home for the holidays," Dumbledore said. "Harry isn't on the one for Gryffindor House. In fact, he's the only student not leaving the castle this year."

"Oh…well…perhaps Molly Weasley's traditional holiday song list seems unappealing this year," Severus put the sentence together the best he could.

"Christmas spirit at The Burrow is always delightful, Severus," the Headmaster said with a small smile. "Harry enjoys it very much…"

"He is still grieving—" Severus tried.

"He wants to spend it with you, the one man who was always so determined to stay cooped up in the dungeons at Christmas despite my efforts to bring you some holiday cheer—"

"Last year you had house elves vandalize my office with garland and fairy lights that were charmed to sing _Carol of the Bells _without end!" Severus snapped.

"And you set them afire," Dumbledore said with displeasure.

"Of course I did for the sake of my sanity," Severus hissed.

The Headmaster continued to smile at him.

"I didn't ask him to stay…" Severus said finally to get to the point.

"It's not a bad thing Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "I'm sure Harry will have a wonderful Christmas with you."

"I hardly think such...interaction is acceptable between—"

"You spent your whole summer watching out for him," Dumbledore interrupted.

"Because you chose me—"

"You gave him a birthday present—"

"And so did half of the Order—"

"I don't see any harm in you spending time with Harry, Severus…" Dumbledore said lightly. "Spending Christmas together…you both have come far in just half a year, I would say that is quite the success."

"I'd rather prefer the company of a bottle of bourbon," Severus lied and those eyes could see right through it.

"I'm sure you have better gift requests than that," Dumbledore said. "We _are _doing secret Santa this year."

Severus had to really put in the effort to not roll his eyes.

He had received Minerva for his secret Santa this year. Well, it could have been worse, he could have gotten Sybill. What if the woman had him?

He was spending Christmas with Harry, spending the New Year with Harry. He wasn't used to it, he was used to that bottle of bourbon or scotch whisky and a good meal he would make himself, he was familiar with the solitude, the emptiness, the bare corner where a Christmas tree could be, there had never been any warmth to surround him but this year…What were his expectations? Or rather, what were Harry's?

"Well…if we are done here," Severus said.

"Do have a good afternoon, Severus," the Headmaster said a bit cheerfully. "See you at the dance."

"Indeed…" Severus said as he stood and walked out of the man's office.

In all honesty and in spite of the unknowable future ahead he was happy. He didn't mind the Christmas gaiety and shimmering ornamentations that inhabited the entirety of the castle too much or the lack of focus from the students because the holidays were here. And the dance? He had never enjoyed a dance or a ball before. In the past they only reminded him of his icy resentment and how good he was at hating things.

But he was different now, he had changed and he was in love and the person he loved knew of his true feelings; this very moment Harry knew that Severus loved him.

What was there to look forward to tonight? It was true that he desired to see Harry dressed for such an occasion, he was curious. But he really couldn't get near the boy let alone dance with him. He had decided he would go to keep an eye on Harry, to make sure all those buoyant girls didn't think this was their second try on the boy.

He didn't know who Harry was attending the dance with. Would he go alone? He was confident in that assumption.

Since that sudden Saturday afternoon Severus had spent the days trying to read Harry. He was good at it but no matter how good he was he just wasn't convinced or prepared that Harry would say those vowed words to him. But a part of him, that greedy, hopeful part believed that Harry did love him with a love that wasn't temporary or young or careless, but with a love to complement his own. Nevertheless he was with Harry and Harry needed him, wanted to be with him in return and there were no roads or foot stones to lead them back to the beginning, to erase what they had done together, and he couldn't let go of him, there wasn't any way to let go now.

There were only the days ahead and the hopes they carried, the willingness that accompanied them, fitted in their footprints, the essence of their dreams that seemed endless to them now. What life could they live? That question was the needle on their compass; it was the meaning they shared, their simple motto that meant anything could happen because they were together in this life.

Had he ever believed, truly, in a life he could live with his own will? Perhaps in daydreams with such asphyxiated senses to what was reality and that yes he would have to be forced to face it, to face himself every moment, that the life he had was all there was and would be, that he could love her, Lily, but that was all it would get to, that was all he was allowed. Perhaps there had been a line between them as well, he and Lily, one he never paid attention to, never noticed that gap or wall, one he didn't care enough for, had been too busy loving her and being absorbed in her that he didn't know what it was to love himself, to care for the good that was possible in himself; it had been there, quiet and anemic and sunken, hidden under all the dark shades of the world, under fear and the inadequacy he felt compared to those could be, would be heroes…

He had failed to cross that line or was never meant to but now, now this line lay behind him and he had found the good in him that was Harry, the good he was so sightless to. He felt the happiness it towed forward, the immense amount of happiness that came with loving Harry.

There was no shame; it was gone, washed away with the truth. He was free from those lies and secrets, from that hate, from that fear, and from judgment.

He knew there were things that Albus Dumbledore required of him, knew how the old wizard had controlled his guilt and broken self into aiding his master plan to obliterate the Dark Lord and he had let him, he had nothing to live for then, not really. But he was thankful that Dumbledore had given him purpose no matter how much debt there was to be repaid or manipulative maneuvers in the process of things; he was able to fall in love again because of it all, to be saved by The Boy Who Lived.

Would he be allowed to live through this second chance? He would fight for it no matter what...

* * *

Severus was nervous. He could not stop the soft quake in his fingers. He didn't know why he felt such unrelenting tension clutching at his chest. It didn't make sense to him to be afraid of something as commonplace as a dance. He was starting to wonder if he would attend after all. There was nothing for him to do but sit there and force himself to converse with the rest of the Staff and deal with the excessively loud music that would most certainly be playing. Perhaps he would leave the job of making sure students were behaving acceptably to someone else this year. He didn't want to have to blast apart rose bushes to find teenagers making out and groping one another like he had done with the Yule Ball. Nonetheless his nerves were betraying him.

He wasn't the man he used to be. Severus thought this as he stared at his reflection. The man in the mirror who stared back looked much different tonight. He had chosen to wear a two button tux instead of dress robes which never suited him. Everything that came with the tux was the same jet coal color; the dress shirt, slacks, vest, and shined dress shoes, everything but his necktie. The intense white of the silk tie collided against the black, stood out viciously in contrast with the pitch darkness of his attire and pale skin. In the mirror's reflection his deep obsidian eyes jumped back at him.

Black and white, they belonged with each other, complemented each other, just like himself and Harry, like their souls.

He waited in front of the mirror feeling hesitant and exposed. If he wasted anymore time he would be late. He let out a weighted breath and left his bedroom. He walked with long strides through the empty dungeon passageways, and up the spiral staircase, his heart rate increasing. He heard the faint instrumental music playing. He could see the group of students that had gathered outside the doors of the Great Hall.

And he saw Harry looking back at him.

Harry stood away from the crowd that was working its way into the Hall. The boy's bright eyes were somewhat wide; his expression was one of surprise. Ms. Granger, dressed in red, was at the boy's side as they were hand in hand.

He had to concentrate on walking as he stared at Harry. He looked older in a sense. The boy's hair was different, smoothed back nicely, the thin lightning shaped scar now visible. The blue in his eyes, if possible, thrived dynamically more so than ever, the color balanced with the blush that kindled in Harry's cheeks.

Harry looked quite striking and very refined. The charcoal black tux that the boy wore fit that slim and short physique perfectly. He wasn't used to seeing Harry like this, a young man, charming and sharp.

He liked how enticing it was.

Harry's gaze lingered on him along with many other onlookers who either stared curiously or in disbelief at Severus. Did he really look so unlike his usual self? He paid them no attention however and turned to walk through the Hall doors only looking back momentarily to take the boy in again where there was enough light to see him clearly. Harry and Granger stared at him with that noticeable astonishment in their eyes. Did he honestly look so different? Severus had to ask this again as he crossed the threshold of the Great Hall and was met with its transformation.

It was dark, too dark for his liking but he could admit that the pale sunlight glow above him was enchanting. His peripherals took in the decorations through the crepuscular environment as he walked forward. The walls were covered completely in black scintillating drapes. There were round tables dressed in the same material and their centerpieces resembled dark metal house-like lanterns with crystalline flames leaping inside of them.

The ceiling reminded him of ebony colored silk or black glass and its infinite void-like appearance was haunting yet somehow thrilling. In front of him as he had guessed there would be was a wide open polished dance floor and a high stage where the Staff table usually occupied. He joined the professors and Headmaster reluctantly as they gathered near the dance floor. Before they noticed him he glanced over their dress robes of all colors; the blinding green of Professor Flitwick's attire and the shimmering gold of Professor Sinistra's gown. The Headmaster was adorned in crimson dress robes which clashed well with Minerva's shadowy blue ones though he found himself staring at the raven feather that belonged to her hat, she never failed to wear one...

"Severus! You've arrived!" Dumbledore announced cheerfully as he had turned though it did nothing to contest the amount of chatter emitting from the student's behind him. "And Liam as well!"

Severus narrowed his eyes and looked behind him to see Royle, also wearing a tux this evening, walking over to them and grinning as if he hadn't a care in the world. The man stopped before him. They were the same height however Severus couldn't help but feel that they were sizing each other up. Royle's grin had fallen justly, his eyes holding an declaration of contention as they were seized to stare into Severus's.

"Evening…" Royle said coolly.

Before Severus could respond (or ignore Royle) Dumbledore commented brightly:

"Look at you boys! You both look quite charismatic in tuxes if I may say so," Dumbledore was smiling, his eyes twinkling.

Severus felt all of the teachers' stares on him, noticed the surprise in Minerva's features and how her expression was very much mirrored in the rest of the Staff. Really, his choice of clothes wasn't so drastically diverse from his normal attire, they were overreacting. He found himself glaring at Royle. The chatter in the Hall had grown greatly in volume as it hummed frustratingly against his ears.

"I think opening words of welcome are in need," Dumbledore said joyfully. The old wizard took out his wand and with a wave the supple instrumental music faded out and he walked gingerly to the middle of the dance floor.

He was grateful for the brief silence that glided over the large crowd. He did not listen to Dumbledore's speech as his gaze was lost in the radiant colors of gowns and dresses, of ties and robes. He found what he was really looking for; Harry whose cheeks were still timidly red, eyes focused on their Headmaster. Then there was clapping and calls of Christmas well wishing and he supposed it would be time to eat now.

The noise elevated quickly after that followed by the floating classical music. The students made their way to the long buffet tables that were set flush with the walls closest to the entrance. Severus followed Dumbledore and sat next to Royle and the Headmaster with Minerva seated at his side. Their table was much larger than the others and was situated in the back corner near the stage, far off from the students and the dance floor.

Their table had been served with many delectable dishes mostly consisting of sea food; lobster tail, king crab, salmon and delectable side dishes and goblets of wine or pumpkin juice. His eyes glanced over the meal and the garden salad in front of him. He wasn't so hungry but he took up his fork and ate slowly, his attention being pulled to the jumping crystal flames in the lantern centerpiece.

There was much conversation among the professors and laughter. Time was passing by drably and while he was refraining from looking over at the table that Harry sat at with Ms. Granger and (much to his dislike) Ms. Chang and a few other familiar faces Royle kept turning his head to look behind him at the front entrance. How quickly the man did it every few minutes had his head almost jerking to follow; it was annoying him, causing him to stab at his lobster tail which he had only been prodding because of his stunted appetite.

He did his best to keep up with their talk as their eyes kept skipping over him making him feel uncomfortable and more anxious than before. Had it been a mistake to wear a tux? Was it so out of character for him? How important was it to keep up the snarky, introverted character while displaying the manifestation of the darkly self-possessed Potions Master?

He knew they could sense the change in him though he hardly talked to the Professors in the Staff lounge or at mealtimes. He was always at Dumbledore's side, they all were aware of that, aware that there were things about Severus Snape that were very undesirable, very undisclosed. He was connected to the Dark Lord, to that evil, so of course they kept their distance for the most part. They tried to enlighten him with intellectual discussions, especially when he had first became a teacher here, but they learned, gradually, how cold he was, how bitter and built in to himself.

But tonight, now, they stared at him, studied him with such profoundness that it made him feel almost naked sitting in this circle. Was it just the clothes? Or did they know that he discovered how to be kind to another being? He doubted such things but they were still his colleagues, for the past 15 years. However, compared to the secret that he still harbored, the love he had for Harry, their approval was nonexistent; these people did not exist…

He took a look at the boy again who was laughing with the blond girl who was next to him, Ms. Lovegood who was dressed oddly in purple. Ms. Granger was looking off somewhere else. There was a brick of anticipation weighted in his stomach. He missed Harry. There were so many things he wanted to do…

Severus faced forward and pretended to know what Minerva had just told him as he nodded only because she was smiling lightly along with Professor Sinistra. It was then that the music ceased and the lights dimmed and the stage was engulfed in a sapphire luminescence. Instruments appeared out of thin air. Severus braced his ears. Smoke rose up from the stage, swirling and thick as a stoic feeling gripped the audience of seated students.

Who had Dumbledore booked for this occasion? He hadn't a clue but if it was anything like the Weird Sisters who performed at the Yule Ball he knew he wouldn't find the band very appealing.

Four men appeared out of the smoky atmosphere as it cleared. People began to clap loudly and shout and whistle. Severus's shoulders stiffened. They looked to be around Royle's age or older, all roughly dressed in dark tones, leather jackets, combat boots, chains here and there, piercings. Severus narrowed his eyes and looked away. Royle had his head turned again, his expression hopeful for whatever reason (though in the back of his mind he could take an educated guess).

The band made their strident, energetic introductions. He saw Dumbledore clap along with the rest of the students. He took another glance at Harry who stared curiously at the stage. So the boy did not know either of who was playing. The first song began and of course it was loud, deafeningly so, but after a while, absentmindedly listening to the beating expressive rhythm and taking in the lyrics, he could say the music wasn't bad despite the soft thundering of it throughout the hall.

Many students had grouped together on the dance floor, mostly couples to start off the slow dancing. He looked to the boy again who sat alone at the table with Granger. Would they dance? He faced forward. Severus felt the reverberating jumps in his chest caused by the bass emanating from the magicked speakers. It put an unsettling energy in his veins, he was restless and he didn't know how to calm it.

And Royle turned his head at the exact same time Severus did, both for different reasons, well, for different people rather. Severus's eyes fell on Harry who was not looking at him but at the woman who had just entered the Hall. She was who Royle had been waiting for, Sophia.

Severus, though he tried, couldn't force his gaze away from her. Dozens and dozens of eyes took their turns to notice her.

Sophia lit up the surrounding twilight setting, her glorious beauty acting like some sort of beacon to break away the eventide.

He could tell she was fearful which only heightened her beauty, her splendor. Gone was her wall of confidence and her protective smile, she was more real to him than he had ever seen her during those sessions. Another slow song began, softer but building in tempo.

She was done up, her hair, her makeup and her elegant black gown, there were matching jewels on the gown and in her prettied hair, all of it served the desired illusion that she was. His eyes fell back to Harry who had started to rise from his chair. Would he really go over to her like some sort of escort? Pointless jealousy fevered in his chest. He felt like standing and taking Harry away from this place, to the dungeons, to his enclosed rooms where they could be alone…

It was then that Royle had stood blocking his view from Harry's table until the man began to walk over as if in a trance toward Sophia, his path dead set. He moved his vision back to the centerpiece. He noticed the Headmaster's absence and couldn't stop the worry that crept into his mind that was bombarded with the band's music. Where had he gone? Had the festivities exhausted him so early? The rest of the Staff listened to the music and had their handful of comments about the wizards on stage as they enjoyed their wine.

Severus had stuck with cider. He hadn't decided if he wanted to be the one who would have to go out and monitor the corridors for "experimenting" students and whatever offenses the teenagers of Hogwarts could practice but he didn't feel like drinking, he had done enough of it before he had confessed to Harry and it was important to keep his wits about him.

"Good evening."

Royle's meeting with Sophia had been successful as the two arrived at the round table. She was smiling now with blushing cheeks.

"Good evening Ms. Gardiner, it's wonderful that you could make it tonight," Minerva called over the music.

"Thank you," Sophia replied in a rising voice as she and Royle sat down. "Wonderful band."

"Quite interesting," Flitwick commented back.

"It's nice to see you again, Professor Flitwick," Sophia said happily, leaning in so the stout Ravenclaw Head of House could hear her. "It seems like only yesterday doesn't it?"

It was small talk which the woman was good at. Royle was gazing at her in a very transfixed sort of way as if marveled by everything she did. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Time flies my dear!" the stout wizard chortled and Severus noticed just how rosy his cheeks were getting along with Professor Sprout's.

As the table rose with heightened conversation his eyes found the dance floor and the mass of students that now occupied it. He blinked once before he noticed Harry and Ms. Granger in her red dress dancing together. They were slow dancing, both smiling and enjoying the company of one another. It was a friendly act; Granger laughed, her eyes bright with amusement. Harry wasn't so confident as she was, not nearly. The boy looked nervous, his movements unsure and his face red with embarrassment but still laughing along with her as Granger led him.

He enjoyed the sight as he sat there, the sounds of the guitar strumming through his senses. Harry twirled the girl and she twirled him, they were lost in each other's presence and touch as the song played, gathering its tempo, the pulse of it so alive. Severus set his eyes on the skipping iridescent flames. He could be grateful that Harry had Ms. Granger to distract him from other eyes that noticed Harry; girls that studied him intensely, even those who had dates, a few were glaring at Granger, envy strict in their features.

It wasn't surprising. Harry was handsome, especially tonight, handsome and charming and those bright blue eyes even with his glasses were so inviting, so kind and unthreatening. They knew the famous boy through the stories their parents had told them but there were those who desired to look past such a notorious title, desired Harry's kindness and caring nature, his willfulness and courage. The boy was a person that anyone sensible would admire, would want for company, would easily realize just how modest and down to earth the boy really was…

He had done it, had found all of that out in only a few months, what he had always been so severely and almost aggressively averse to realize, to really _see_.

Severus lifted his eyes away from the lamp's fire and let them see what they wanted; Harry who was staring right at him, they were feet away as Granger was against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Their eyes were locked. He looked over Harry's tux, in love with it in this moment. The boy's body moved slowly, swaying gently with the girl. Harry had questions behind those eyes, he knew, he was saying things to him through this gaze. He took in the stage's light that played against the boy's form, eyeing that thin waist with such desire that made his breath stuck.

It was definitely not enough to just look and sit still; his muscles felt too tight.

"Severus, Severus," Minerva was calling his attention and he looked away from the boy. The woman, whose cheeks were just as flushed as Flitwick's now, leaned in to whisper loudly to him: "I think Aurora wouldn't mind a dance with you." Her eyes glanced at the woman in her gold gown. She was watching the band, her head moving in time with the song.

"I don't dance, Minerva," Severus said.

"But that's precisely what dances are for!" she said. Severus watched her get up and walk around the table to Professor Sinistra and the Muggle Studies instructor, Professor Burbage. They talked merrily for a moment and laughed and in the next moment the three women were all heading toward the dance floor. Severus shook his head. The band was playing a fast piece now, uplifting and much louder than the ones previous.

Severus's stare fell on Sophia and Royle. Sophia had watched the professors hurry off and the woman was smiling. Royle looked anxious, his hands holding his knees tightly. Severus sighed and looked over at the dance floor but the boy was gone now.

Moments flew by. The students were dancing with such jovial, excited energy now, hands clapping and feet carried away with the music. He wasn't bored per se but he was beginning to wonder why he had bothered to come. What else could he do but sit here? Should he make up some excuse in his head to go to Harry where he was? His fingers, unbeknownst to him, were tapping with the beat of the song. There was a keyboardist on stage…

He spotted Harry finally over by the dessert table. He was drinking from a goblet and it had to have been treacle tart that the boy was eating. There was a group of girls only paces away from Harry all taking turns to look at the boy. Harry was oblivious to them of course. Severus spotted Granger in a large crowd of girls all dancing together near the stage.

Professor Sprout had gone off to join Minerva somewhere in the large mass of dancers. The music was quite loud now, vibrating the Hall but the hysteria the students were under was unstoppable, the band was conducting their moods so effortlessly.

His restless state was worsening as he sat their next to two of his former students.

Without knowing he was searching for Harry again, his eyes bothered by the beams of light that passed through the crowd. Not many students were sitting at the round tables, most were up, mingling or dancing. Should he make sure no one was causing trouble? He honestly found it hard to care.

Harry was at the punch bowl now. It was a large crystal bowl surrounded by tall glass goblets in a variety of colors. His jaw clenched when he saw who was with the boy. It was Ms. Chang. She was speaking to Harry animatedly. Harry was shaking his head but smiling. They finished their drinks and then she was tugging at his hand and they were rushing toward to the dance floor.

Severus forced his eyes away. It was useless to feel such jealousy. Harry was his, they were together. Harry was most certainly allowed to enjoy himself if he wished. He wouldn't let the eager emotion that jealousy was control him.

Nevertheless he wanted to have time with Harry, alone, special, he wanted to dance with Harry…

A new song began, there was more rhythmic clapping, the pace hurrying and easy. He saw Harry in the crowd, in a circle of his friends now. He blinked quickly against the colorful lights that came from the stage. Harry was dancing, really dancing. The nervousness from earlier had vanished. His movements matched to those in the ring. They were jumping, spinning, feet all moving together, some were singing along with the lyrics. Harry looked happy, breathless, beaming at his friends, his body loose, his tux's jacket unbuttoned, he seemed more enticing to Severus than ever. He watched Harry's body move, he wasn't clumsy, it was natural, confident. He hadn't known Harry was capable of opening up so much, of being so carefree, dancing like this.

The song ended and Harry was laughing and out of breath along with his friends. The cheering was loud, the noise deafening as the lead singer of the band was making an announcement. Minerva and her little group returned, pink in the face and chortling like mad. What happened to professional conduct? How long had he been sitting here?

He was beginning to feel misplaced. He stood, deciding to stretch his legs. He left through the side door out into the deserted corridor feeling the chill in the air. It was warm now in the Hall. He stared out the frosty windows for a long moment, clearing his mind but failing to get rid of the image of Harry's body dancing.

He could hear whistling and cheering and the stomping of feet through the door. A woman's voice was over the microphone. Dumbledore had booked two performances? He bowed his head, his hands in his pockets. Why was he growing so impatient? His fitful heart would not rest inside of him. He wasn't used to feeling this way, to being this way.

He wanted Harry.

He wanted to feel the boy, to pleasure him and himself, to be so close it was crushing, almost painful, his heart felt pained for wanting it so badly, needing it. It had been a while since he had given his body any kind of relief from the arousal that he was sure to be met with in the mornings because of the dreams he had of Harry. He felt ridiculous, younger, a fool.

He wanted to hear Harry's voice.

It was such a selfish wish and he wouldn't ever tell Harry again since that day he let it slip, he didn't want to make Harry feel any kind of pressure from him or worry him. They were together, had gotten together because of the boy's muteness and that fact, that little detail put his thoughts on edge. It wasn't fair. Would they have ever noticed each other otherwise? Would they had continued to hate each other with such passion if it hadn't been for Black's death and Harry's voice being lost because of it, because of the boy's pulverizing, plummeting guilt?

It was meaningless to think like this but it didn't stop him from doing so.

If Black hadn't died, would Harry think of him as anyone else besides the cold hearted, tormenting, bitter man who hated him blindly? And himself? Would he have ever seen just how bright those eyes could be? Just how kind Harry was? Would he have ever treated Harry differently? Ever been saved by Harry?

Where did this everlasting love fit inside of him? How could he contain it?

The music that was playing now was something he had never heard before even if it was muffled by the closed door. The bass was heavy, the tempo climbing with such speed. He stayed out in the corridor for many moments. He was tempted to go back to his quarters, finding refuge in that quiet and the book he was currently reading, he still had exams to grade…

He wasn't aware of how many songs the woman on stage played, her voice irritated his ears but the students inside seemed to enjoy it with fervor. He finally went back inside; the pounding bass hit his ears ruthlessly. He could see through the glittering light that flashed from the stage that the witch was in very skimpy attire, her blond hair was wild and she was dancing quite provocatively.

"I don't understand why the Headmaster would allow this!" Severus heard Minerva shout when he sat back down. Royle and Sophia were gone from the table. "This is unacceptable! Outlandish! Offensive!"

Severus didn't know if any of the students would agree with her as he nodded his head slowly, especially the male student body. The bass was booming in his chest now, his head was beginning to throb with it. The Great Hall was filled with a cluster of untamed teenagers now.

His eyes scanned the jumping wave of crowded dancers. It was difficult to focus because of the flashing stage lights. He was a bit surprised at what he saw. Harry was dancing again, much more energetically than before, and with a girl, Ms. Bell, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. His heart tightened again. Harry was flushed in the face, surrounded by the throng of overly excited students. How were they this crazed?

Harry and Ms. Bell were closer to the stage. They were controlled by the liberated, mounting, commanding music and the witch on stage who was very imposing on everyone. They seemed to enjoy her full heartedly. He watched Harry who was so unreserved now, ecstatic, blending in with the mass of them. It was probably hot in that crowd with so many bodies, so many racing hearts…

He watched Harry twirl the girl, watched how the boy spun and laughed, how they held each other and jumped in time with the striking tempo of the riotous song that he couldn't even begin to understand the lyrics that she was vocalizing.

It was unlike Harry, that was all he could think now in spite of how mesmerizing it was to look at Harry moving in such ways, his _hips_ had been moving, they were jumping again, hands raised in the air, heads rocking. The energy of it was peaking.

Harry's eyes had somehow found his, for an instant, before looking up at the witch on stage. She was smiling at him as the bass was hammering; she gave the boy a wink. The whole display now seemed bizarre to Severus. Why was Harry so insouciant and thrilled tonight? Before he could contemplate the reason further he watched the Bell girl twirl once more but she had tripped up, crashing into the boy and making them both fall to the floor.

He couldn't see them now. His ears were stormed with the unruly noise of the crowd and the music. Harry and the girl were helped up, Harry was laughing, his face red and eyes clouded with delight. The song ended and Sophia had returned to the table without Royle just as Severus was watching Harry make his way through the body of students.

"How was it?" she asked loud enough for him to hear.

Severus took his eyes away from Harry to stare at her.

"Fine…" Severus replied. The Staff table was mostly empty now despite Professor Sinistra and Professor Burbage.

"What did he say?" Sophia asked, leaning in so that her deeply green eyes were evident even through the dim light of the Hall. He could see the four men take their places on the stage again behind her.

"We're done with our sessions," Severus said.

She smiled at him.

"Where's Royle? Are you having trouble rekindling the romance?" He didn't mean to be sarcastic with her but his impatience was becoming too much for him.

"He's with Flitwick and McGonagall patrolling," she said.

A slow song had begun, gentle and a relief from the intense bass, the energy in the crowd was dropping as couples were breaking off to be close together.

"Dance with me," she said suddenly.

He was momentarily stunned but regained himself quickly.

"No," Severus said bluntly.

"Come on, you've been sitting here all this time, staring at him, why not have a little fun, it won't hurt I promise," Sophia said lightly.

"No, go make use of Royle for such things, he seemed quite willing earlier," Severus said with his voice raised to be heard over the music.

"Well if you won't dance with me," her eyes looked over the swarm and Severus followed her stare to see that Harry was by the punch bowl again with Granger this time, "I'll go ask Harry, he's been having a lot of fun this evening."

"You're free to do as you please," Severus said firmly, his eyes narrowed.

"Alright then," she said and stood quickly.

"_Fine_, I will dance with you," Severus bit out and stood swiftly, feeling aggravated.

"Lovely," she replied, smiling again.

"Insufferable woman…" Severus muttered under his breath as she took his hand and led him toward the dance floor. He followed reluctantly as she pulled. They stood before each other, their eyes holding each other's gaze.

"I assume you know how to slow dance at least?" Sophia said.

Severus refrained from smirking at her and ignored the dose of embarrassment that fought its way into him. He took her waist with his left hand, his right hand grasping her left gently. There was a delicateness in her eyes as she placed her hand upon his shoulder. They began to move with grace about them, following the measure of the song. It was subtle and somewhat weightless.

He recalled certain memories in that dusky, broken house. There was a record player in the small library, something his mother had played when his father was at work. He had wondered, during those drab mornings, if his drunk of a father had beaten the magic out of her, that's how hopeless she looked. He had heard many old songs in that room. That was where he had listened to _What a Wonderful World_. He could remember her frail looking hands place the needle on the vinyl record, how he secretly had grown fond of that pause before the music began, of the scratchy certain sound it would make.

She would look at him with those exhausted, empty eyes and smile. He was a boy then, short and skinny. She would beckon him to come in the room. He would feel reluctant but whatever part of him that did not hate her, did not pity her, did not fear her, that part made him go to her. She would dance slowly, taking his hands into hers, pulling weakly, unsure of how he would react but he would follow, moving about with his eyes set hard on the dusted wooden floor. Sometimes he would feel silly, sometimes he hated it, sometimes he felt nothing at all, and sometimes she would cry, her tears joined by a feeble smile.

Her heart was so withered, her spirit so faded but still she would play the muggle records, still she would dance slow and timorously with him and the morning sun would shine through the moth eaten curtains, the lace dirty and aged and then the front door would slam and she would hurry with shivering hands to lift the needle from the disc and rush downstairs.

In the late hours of the night when the shouting was done and he would hear her whimpers in the kitchen below he would play back the songs in his head, drown the world with them.

Sophia was smiling at him.

"You're somewhere far away right now," she said.

She was warm; he could feel the calmness in her body through her skin.

"Sorry," he said.

He twirled her effortlessly and she spun with elegance, laughing when she came close to him again. He listened to the song; it was pleasant over his skin. Her touch was dove-like and for once he didn't mind her perfume.

"He's been trying so hard for you," Sophia said just above a whisper.

Severus looked at her with slight confusion in his eyes. The song ended and there was clapping; Sophia applauded along. The next song began with its tempo much quicker and Severus led her away from the dance floor, she did not protest. He watched Sophia leave the Great Hall and his eyes were back on the lively crowd, growing more animated by the second.

Harry was with Ms. Granger again and they were dancing vigorously, in time with the music and the rhythmic clapping. His tux's jacket was off. Many eyes were on the two as they were given room to dance. He was surprised at how excited and open Ms. Granger was. The song was building, the bass deep. At one point in the song Harry had lifted the girl up, they were both smiling and breathless and enlightened with one another.

And then they were spinning, their hands grasped together tightly as they whirled round and round with reckless speed. They were laughing, the crowd cheering for them and clapping their hands, whistling and howling and dancing. Severus didn't understand what fueled this unreserved dizzying celebration. He could smell the wine from the half empty goblets around him. He was the only one seated at the table. His eyes fell over his own goblet of cider.

It was crystal clear to him right then. He stood quickly, his mind set on the path toward the refreshment table even though it was a challenge to get through the mass of bouncing bodies, their screaming voices blurring in his ears. He made it to the table at last. Many goblets were either tipped over, spilt, or full. He watched the few students who were lingering in the Hall but not dancing. He served himself a bit of the punch and drank from the goblet. When the fruity cold drink touched his tongue his assumption was proven correct.

There was vodka mixed in the punch, high proof vodka which was daring and thoughtless but what else could he expect when teenagers were left to behave rampantly while their professors were left with too much wine? He knelt down and lifted the table cloth to reveal the tall glass bottle of the clear liquor and the label he was very familiar with, there was barely enough for a shot left.

He shook his head. He had been so preoccupied with Harry that he had let this go unnoticed. He wasn't the only one to blame. Had Filch taken the night off? Why hadn't anyone charmed the bowl for safety? What was done was done however. Not caring at the moment for the number of ways a student could smuggle in alcohol like this Severus stood. His line of vision was met with Seamus Finnigan. The Gryffindor was walking over to the punch bowl and stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he noticed Severus. The blame was written all over the boy's face. His eyes were heavily glossed over as well.

"Finnigan!" Severus snapped.

"Shit," the boy let out before turning swiftly and hurrying off into the crowd. Severus followed only to catch sight of something that made him forget all about the vodka swimming in that chilled punch. Severus stood rigid before the crowd as his eyes took in the scene in the middle of it, the scene of Ginny Weasley kissing Harry with great infatuation. The girl's hands were wrapped behind his neck, pressing their lips together, deepening the hasty kiss.

Before he could do anything, think of anything, before anger and jealousy could rip its way into his chest Harry had pushed her away forcefully. The boy's glazed eyes and flushed face looked shocked and fearful. The girl was stunned as well. With a flighty heart Severus watched the boy turn around and rush through the crowd with a clumsy panic.

Severus waited a moment as Harry was already out the doors of the Great Hall and then his legs were moving to follow the boy. He took the grand staircase's steps two at a time and saw the boy clambering up to the second floor. He hurried up the two floors and down the corridor, slowing his steps to his normal stride. The boy had turned up ahead, it was a dead end after that, there was no need to rush his pursuit now.

As he passed a door that was slightly ajar he heard voices that halted his pace. He listened.

"Promise me Liam, promise me you'll never try to leave me again," it was Sophia and she sounded as if she was crying. "Not like that…"

"I'm sorry, Sof…It was selfish of me…" Royle's voice was shaking.

"_Promise_ me! I don't ever…ever want to find you that way…" she gasped in a quivering whisper. "I don't ever want to find you dead!"

"I promise, Sophia…I'll never feel that way…not if I have you…"

There was silence and Severus wanted to move forward but he couldn't. He owed it to her he supposed…

"I'm scared…"

"I told you…I'd never get in the way of you and Emily…"

"That's not why…"

"Tell me then…"

"What if I can never trust you?" Her words shook with desperation and admittance.

"I'll take that chance, over and over," Royle said."You and I, together, it's all I know…I love you Sophia…I…I've always loved you."

He heard Royle's footsteps and Sophia's intake of breath.

"I don't want to miss you anymore…Please…"

There was a moment of restive quiet and then:

"I love you too…" He hardly heard her words.

Severus walked ahead not thinking of what he had overheard, another confession of love. He turned to walk down the long stretch of corridor cast in a warm glow of firelight. He saw the boy leaning against the wall of the archway before the balcony looking up. The closer he got the faster his heart became. Harry's head turned to face him. The pose the boy was in, arms held behind his back, body leaning on the stoned wall, eyes glassy and wide; it was captivating.

"Harry," he called gently.

Severus let his eyes dance over the boy's body, the form fitting dress shirt hugging that thin waist. He wanted to slide his fingers across it, across that waistline; he wanted to undress Harry with such tantalizingly slow movements, how he wanted to shove that lithe body against the cold stone and make love to Harry…

He had to shake himself of the hazy, arousal fed thoughts. Harry was the one intoxicated, not him.

Harry's face was pale but those cheeks were so red, so painted with that red that caressed the skin, so persistent under those deeply topaz orbs. Those lips, so sensual, so moldable against his, so affectionate, a sensitive affection that was only his and only moments ago had someone stolen that feeling, roughly, cheated, taken with rude boldness. It made his blood boil, sent his mind back to those memories of her, Lily, and Potter, the roles were only reversed like some fever induced hallucination…

But Harry wasn't James, he was Harry, his love, the soul he loved so completely, inexorably and true, this love that destroyed him, made him insane with such desperate hunger, the need to feel that flesh, that _life_ so electrified in that skin, under it, underneath it all, the blood, the bone, the core, the sewn meanings, threads, tendrils, the energy of that soul and the immeasurable kindness in that heart that he was so undeserving of.

He moved to stand in front of the boy. Harry was embarrassed and there was lust circling in that glossy, brilliant blue. How would Harry look when he got older? Would that innocence fade out years from now? Or would he still find it, sheltered somewhere, sheltered for him?

"Are you alright?" Severus said. His voice seemed far away, all he could do was burn this image of Harry into his memory, of this ending night; this was special because there were no more secrets, no regrets or lies, their hearts were unguarded. They were here, time forgotten.

Would they live for each other?

"I lost my glasses…somewhere…" Harry signed or tried to but his eyes were slightly unfocused, hands a bit uncoordinated but he read those lips.

He took Harry's hands that were left unknowingly suspended in the space between them. He looked down upon the boy's hesitant and worried expression.

"You, Mr. Potter, are inebriated," Severus said.

The boy shook his head rather quickly and then paused, his body steadying against the definite dizziness that Harry was feeling because of the alcohol and then he nodded his head to confirm the inevitable truth.

Harry looked up at him. He looked afraid.

"Am I sloshed?" Those lips moved to the words with his eyebrows raised. He desired to hear Harry's speech, how slurred would it sound? Amusement ebbed its way into his senses. The boy's drunk condition shouldn't be funny, underage drinking was unlawful but it was so like the boy to not realize his drinks were spiked.

"Not quite," he answered, trying not to smile for Harry seemed genuinely fearful of his intoxicated state.

"What was it?" the boy asked soundlessly.

Severus could hear the band playing from the Great Hall, could hear Harry's soft breathing, could hear his own heart thumping away, and if he tried he could imagine how Harry's voice sounded…

"Vodka," Severus said lightly. He couldn't stop the minute smile that came upon his face.

"Really?" Harry's eyes broadened, his astonishment was exaggerated in the boy's expression. Severus doubted the boy could walk a straight line.

"Positive," he said with fake gravity.

"It was good," Harry admitted silently. Severus continued to hold the boy's warming hands, his thumbs brushing over knuckles, fingertips caressing Harry's palms. "I mean…I didn't know...I've never…I'd never…not intentionally…" The boy was muttering so the words were a bit hard to decipher but Severus smirked as the blush in Harry's cheeks burned stronger up to his ears.

Harry looked so exposed like this, so flustered and dazed. But he was handsome as well, beautiful and older in this moment despite the ethanol that drugged the boy's senses.

"You were quite…unrestrained this evening," Severus said quietly. And once again images of that swaying, moving, dancing form lit up in his mind, tapering through the darkness.

"I'm sorry…" Harry mouthed, clouded eyes lowering, the guilty and embarrassed emotions weighted there.

"I liked it," he said and the words played off his tongue. He lifted his right hand to raise Harry's chin gently, swiping his fingertips over the soft, heated skin. "But of course such reckless abandonment can be…hazardous."

Harry's eyes widened and such ample apology swelled in them.

The want in his body was excessive, his skin shivered from the ghostly feel of it; it traveled everywhere, integrating cruelly with the frigid air that drafted in but even the scent of strong pine and cold night wind couldn't subdue the growing calescent incitement that wrestled with his limbs.

"I didn't mean for her to kiss me…I didn't want her to—"

The silent words were unneeded, useless so he shut them back in as he abruptly leaned down to smother those lips with his own. He didn't waste time in deepening it, thoroughly, his tongue tasting that hot mouth, the flavors of punch and citrus mixed with the faint tang of that vodka. He indulged himself and let his hands free to feel up the body before him provocatively, stirring up his arousal, grazing over slim muscle and covered skin; everything he felt was enticing him, the satin of Harry's vest, the buttons, the cotton, trying to control the starvation inside of him, the clawing need to clutch the lean curves of Harry's body, to grasp at that clothing and pull.

It wasn't right to manipulate these feelings, to tease the inebriated boy or his sober self but it had been so long, he wanted to murder the time they had been apart from each other and to vanish every trace of feeling on these lips that the ginger headed girl had left behind.

He tugged Harry forward, held him close against his body. He felt Harry place his hands on his chest. His hands were on the boy's backside pressing their bodies closer before gliding up to hold Harry's heated face.

They parted, breathless; Harry's hazy stare was so close to his own.

"I want to dance with you," Severus whispered against those bruised lips.

He stood up straight, taking hold of Harry's hands again. He led Harry out onto the balcony and into the freezing air. The thick snow that encased the ground below glinted through the natured shadows that swirled upon the white surface. He examined Harry's features that were nervous and tentative.

"I can't dance," those lips spoke the noiseless words. He liked the worry in the boy's eyes.

"Liar," Severus said and smirked. "I saw everything." Their breaths created frosty steam that rose up in the air. His heart was stricken with eagerness. One dance, his only wish that could be granted tonight…

"I'm clumsy…"

"It's all I want," Severus hardened his stare on Harry, his body casting a looming shadow over the boy. "Especially when you look so…seductive this evening." It was true, Harry was seductive, eyes so inviting, the design of his body so pronounced in the tailored clothes. Harry was always complementing on how refined he was but here, Harry's refined self was endearing to him.

Harry blushed deeper, looking more apprehensive.

A new song started up, slow, the melody restful yet amplifying gently.

"This will have to do," Severus said.

He clasped Harry's left hand into his right, raising it while he placed his left hand upon the boy's back. Harry was stiff, all of that courageous liberated spirit had evaporated from his body but he watched Harry place his right hand on his chest. He admired Harry's shyness in this moment as he began to lead the boy with their slow dance.

His gaze stayed on Harry as the boy was practically glaring at his unsure feet.

"You're alright," Severus said. "I'm not much of a dancer."

Harry's head was still bowed.

"Look at me," Severus said.

Harry obeyed, relaxing somewhat but that nervous hand in his squeezed.

The beat of the song quickened so they moved with it and they were close, their gaze fastened on each other. He spun the boy once with ease and pulled him closer. Harry put his head down, cheeks reddening as he laughed silently. Severus slid the hand that was on Harry's back lower, feeling the warmth of the muscle move there. His composed expression did not give away the fact that his heart was leaping. Why was this so important to him? The only thing that mattered in his life?

But it was their life now, Harry's life was his commitment now. He wasn't used to feeling so happy.

Severus, out of impulse, dipped the boy slightly. The song was over. Harry was staring up at him, eyes wavering over his face. It was snowing.

"I love you," Severus said and they were words worth living by, to any man.

And so suddenly did the boy fall and the only reason he couldn't grab Harry was because the boy had grasped his tie, eyes shutting tight. He felt the hasty forced tug around his neck. They dropped and Severus had somehow managed to catch the boy's head so it wouldn't hit the ground though he couldn't do anything for his knees that struck the stone. It wasn't all that painful.

Harry was under him now looking lightheaded and gazing up at him with those glossy eyes, misty breath leaving those pink lips. And he couldn't control the action as he held himself up on his hands and knees, he couldn't stop the pleasurable, lively feeling that tickled the inside of his chest. It rose up, this sudden feeling, and he started to laugh, the whim of it buried in his chest, shaking it with the sound that was deep in his throat.

He shut his eyes against it, he knew he was smiling, he knew he was laughing, a reaction he hadn't expressed in so long.

"I'm sorry," Severus said, the words shaky.

His merriment didn't last long but it was enough to make him breathless, to make his eyes burn with invisible tears.

He opened his eyes to stare at Harry who looked mesmerized by what he just witnessed. Severus moved his left hand to hold the side of Harry's face. The boy was unmoving but his features were changing. They grew sorrowful, anguish bleeding into that blue where tears were born, splashing diamonds of light into those eyes.

What was wrong with Harry? Was the dizziness scaring him? Severus could only wonder why the boy was suddenly sad. He knew very well of the ways alcohol powered your emotions so arbitrarily but the haze should have been wearing off at least somewhat.

"Harry…" he whispered.

The boy closed his eyes tightly. There was agony in Harry's expression mixed with loss. He could see the boy swallowing, his throat working itself, those lips were parted, trembling as the mist shuddered out. Harry brought his hands over his eyes, wiping away the unwanted tears with frustration at the wasted effort that six long months had brought him. Of course Harry wanted to speak, wanted his voice to work again. How unfair it was, cruel. It made him feel guilty.

Severus bent down and kissed Harry. The instant arousal that overtook his senses surprised him. It was just the position they were in and how badly he wanted to pleasure Harry, to give the boy bliss. He wanted friction and heat which his body was quickly losing being out here in the wintry weather as it snowed.

He didn't give in and ended the kiss. They breathed in the frigid air.

Harry kept his eyes on him. The tears were gone.

"We can be together tomorrow…have dinner…" Severus said as if needing some assurance that the boy wouldn't somehow disappear when this night was over.

Harry nodded.

"You're handsome…" Severus read those lips, saw the desire in the look Harry was giving him.

"Don't temp me, Harry," he said and he stood, pulling Harry to his feet. The boy was shivering as Harry leaned against him.

"Here," Severus said as he took off his tux's jacket to cover Harry's shoulders with it. Harry looked down, his cheeks blushing, hands holding the jacket in place. The snow drifted down, the white flakes standing out against the black night. They caught in their hair and on their clothes. He wanted to stay here like this where nothing could endanger them, nothing could ruin this, not the darkness ahead or the unknowable future they wanted to live.

Here they were alive, safe, warm and cold and existing and human.

He would never stop loving Harry…

He felt Harry's right hand take his left. Harry's head was bowed. Severus stared at what Harry was focused on; their cufflinks. Harry's looked like a little window, black and white, the tiny inner squares made out of pearl. He smiled at Harry's choice, glad the boy hadn't picked something boring. His own left cufflink glimmered, the silver caught in the glow coming from the corridor, the blue sand moved as Harry turned their hands over a bit.

"Harry…" he called softly.

Harry looked up. They stared at each other in the frosty motionless quiet. He didn't blink.

And then Harry's eyes were on their cufflinks again. The boy let go of his hand. Severus only watched as Harry (quite clumsily) traded their cufflinks. First the boy took off the tiny window from his right cuff and then undid the miniature hourglass from Severus's left cuff. He examined those trembling fingertips as Harry's body still shivered.

The boy placed the window cufflink into the holes of Severus's cuff and finally put on the hourglass cufflink. The sudden switch was made and Harry's body was shaking, breath shuddering as if he had been holding it.

Severus brushed the boy's cheek softly with his left hand, staring at his newly acquired possession. Harry's eyes met his. He fell into them, into that blue like the world living in a marble, it was his world, his entire world existed in those bright eyes.

He remembered what he had wanted to say to Harry minutes ago.

"You need to drink water before you go to bed or you'll regret it in the morning."

"I like dancing with you…" Harry said mutely.

He wanted to hold his breath, wanted like he had so many times before for this night to last and last…

"Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?" he asked without really thinking.

Harry shook his head.

"I'd like to say good night to everyone," Harry signed though Severus had somehow grown fond of just reading the boy's lips instead.

In the next moment they were walking down the grand staircase. Harry stopped at the bottom and stared at the two students that were outside the castle doors. Severus stopped at the boy's side and saw Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger standing close together under a branch of mistletoe. Weasley didn't hesitate before he kissed the girl quite enthusiastically.

He looked to Harry who held a certain mixed expression of triumph and relief.

"Good night," Severus said in front of the Great Hall's entrance. The boy lifted the tux's jacket from his shoulders and handed it him.

"Night," Harry signed with a small smile.

With every part of him telling him not to go he turned and headed off to the entrance to the dungeons. The frantic feeling in his heart was torture. He had thought, fleetingly, that Harry would say those words no matter if the influence of alcohol was involved. He needed Harry to say it back no matter if he was so sure that Harry loved him in return. He needed that.

But he had forced the question down, forced himself to be patient, he had to.

Back in his personal quarters Severus had slung his jacket over a chair and loosened his tie. He brought out a short liquor glass and the clear bottle of the transparent liquid. He leaned back in the chair suddenly exhausted. The scents of the evening were stuck on him but he could smell Harry's cologne the most. He poured himself just a little and slid the bottle away with a push of his finger.

He drank the vodka down, it didn't burn, it was smooth down his throat. He let the memories of the night glide in through the familiar taste. He opened his eyes and stared at the cufflink Harry had given him. He sat there with the taste lingering on his tongue. He could always feel the mark on his arm, his sinful brand that symbolized the broken path he had been so set on, his soul burning away to ashes behind him. But he was no longer set on that wayward path.

He stood with Harry now; their paths had met, collided. What lay ahead was unforeseeable but he had Harry and tomorrow he would find the boy, tomorrow could be, _would_ be wonderful.

* * *

A/N:

Hi there, I want to apologize for how long it took to get this chapter up, I had a lot to do this month and a lot to still keep up with but the next chapter shouldn't take me more than two weeks to post though it will be long.

I really hope no one was disappointed with this chapter with both Harry's and Severus's POV. I just thought it would be interesting to do.

While writing this I listened to the band Imagine Dragons, the album Night Visions, I love their music. While writing the scene where Royle goes to Ms. Gardiner I played _My Fault _and while writing Harry and Severus's dancing scene I played _Demons. _I think that song suits Severus very much in my opinion.

I'm sort of crap at writing humor but I hope it was alright.

Please review if you have the time and if you want tell me which POV you read first : ) Your reviews are highly appreciated and encourage the story of course.

I apologize for any errors I may have missed.

To come in Chapter 38: Harry and Severus's holiday and that's it, lots of good things to happen in the next chapter, I hope you look forward to it.


	40. Chapter 38: Some Things Last

I do not own Harry Potter. Such rights go to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Warning: This chapter contains M/M and Graphic and Mature Content. Don't like it, don't read it. Thank you.

A/N: Hi there, I would like to thank those who are reading and reviewing this story, it really gives me that energy I need to continue and I appreciate it.

Also, I would like to announce that I will be putting up the prologue for my next fanfic which is a Harry Potter, Harry and Snape fic but it is an AU non-magic and will be fairly long as well as within the next couple of weeks I will be uploading chapters for another story that is Harry/Snape that will only be a handful of chapters.

My goal for this site is to share my stories but also I have been trying to improve my writing style and I will especially be aiming for that in my next story.

Anyway, on with the this story:

* * *

**Chapter 38: Some Things Last**

The winter's morning light eased in achingly to his blurred vision. It seemed like all he had the ability to feel as he was waking was the beating, pounding pain in his head and nothing else, the rest of his body numbed by the tucked in heat that surrounded it. The migraine-like twinge felt bunched up inside his skull making his awareness so clouded and sluggish. So very slowly did the memories seep in through the small openings of consciousness that were the holes in the web that felt trapped over his brain, the memories of last night, of the snow and the darkness and the warmth of the man and that white tie and…everything, all cast under a sedated delight.

Right, he had been drunk last night for the first time. He couldn't remember exactly what he had done after sitting in the Great Hall after the dance was over, he might have fallen asleep, he remembered vaguely walking back with Ron and Hermione on either side of him as they helped him up to Gryffindor Tower. His vicious head ache was proof that he hadn't drunken any water before falling into a deep sleep.

His breathing was shallow, stifled a bit because most of his face was buried into his pillow as he was lying on his front. He didn't even remember changing into a t-shirt and sweat pants. He knew he couldn't fall back into sleep though its painless emptiness beckoned him mercilessly. He also needed the toilet.

With his hammering head refusing it with all its might Harry lifted himself to sit up. He felt woozy, his mouth dry, his stomach queasy and horribly empty. He squinted against the sunlight that beamed through his frosted window. It was cold in the silent dorm room. Where was everyone? Harry looked around and without his glasses he could still see that no one was here. He could see Ron's trunk on the boy's bed; clothes and random items littered the floor.

Harry's buzzing hands searched for his glasses and found them on his bedside table. He slipped them on, his eyes unbearably heavy, and stood on his bare feet and wobbly legs. He was dizzy, the room spinning slowly. He found his toiletry bag. He shuffled forward, almost tripping over his slacks that were on top of the small pile of his tux, and made his way to the restroom. He relieved himself and as he was washing his hands he was startled at his reflection, or rather the state of his bed hair. He hadn't showered before slumping down on his bed last night so his hair still had the certain gel in it. Now it stuck up every which way, very spiked in the back and the sides. His shirt was on backwards. Harry sighed. He splashed water on his drowsy face, the chill of it lessening the pain in his eyes and skull somewhat.

Harry, with his spiky, chaotic hair stripped himself of his pajamas and entered one of the shower stalls. He jumped when the freezing water hit his body but forced himself to stay under it to wake him up. It grew hot and steamy and after standing for a moment, yawning, Harry began to wash, thoroughly, to get rid of last night's scents, the stale smell of alcohol that lingered on his skin. He scrubbed his hair hard and scrupulously.

Once out of the shower he grabbed up a fluffy towel and wrapped it around his waist as he made it over to the sink again to brush his teeth and comb his now soft, damp hair. He cleaned his glasses and dried himself off a bit more. He entered the still empty dorm and picked up his tux, folding it, taking off the mismatched cufflinks carefully and placing them inside his trunk. He stood before his dressing cupboard and wondered what to wear.

The shower had cleared his foggy mind enough that he could think properly. The heart inside his chest felt somewhat fluttery and delicate. He had promised himself he would tell the man today but it didn't lessen the simple truth that he was scared of what would come after, what was on the other side of those devoted, binding, marvelous words.

He would be giving everything to Severus, all of him, body, mind, soul, his whole heart. And the hope, that consuming, full hope that they could have a life together, that he could lay next to this man forever, that one day there would be nothing to be afraid of, he held on to that, unremittingly, with his entire spirit, his strength. It wouldn't rot away, it wouldn't fail, it wouldn't be lost, couldn't be lost, he would cling to it, cruelly, savagely. It was the life he believed in…

Harry stood there, naked, with the bright wintry sun from the window splayed over his back. He was cold mostly but the mark of sunlight upon his back felt like the man's presence, of a strong hand pressing down upon his skin; gentle, lingering, warm, lively, stable, constant, natural…

The vulnerability of it was overwhelming.

But the love inside of him felt so trapped, knotted inside, reaching desperately, tense under his very skin, painful like biting thorns.

Harry took a deep breath and focused on getting dressed.

He chose a pair of black short boxers and slipped them on. He dressed himself in dark blue jeans, a soft cotton navy blue collared shirt with thin silver buttons up the neckline and a warm gray wool cardigan. He picked out his black coat and gray scarf and set them on his bed and put his socks and brown boots on. He looked around, stretching, once again noticing Ron's half finished packing. He wouldn't be boarding the train this morning with him, wouldn't be meeting the Weasleys at King's Cross.

It was then that Ron hurried into the room.

"Finally you're up mate!" Ron said breathlessly. "I tried but you wouldn't budge. Better start packing; only have about an hour before the carriages are here." The ginger-haired boy had begun throwing things in his school trunk, jumpers and socks and trousers, not bothering to fold anything.

"Hey…" Harry signed but Ron had his back to him, moving about around his bed, already dressed for the biting winter cold outside. Harry looked down at his hands that were shaking badly, even his legs still felt weak.

"It was Seamus who spiked the punch, if you wanted to know, that sly git," Ron said and laughed. "I can't believe you and Hermione didn't realize! Lots of people drank it, no wonder everyone was so—"

Ron had turned around swiftly as he slung his maroon knitted scarf around his neck. Harry was staring down at the floor, eyes nervous, heart drumming away though he tried to console it with his brandishing, sluggish thoughts. He was finding it difficult to raise his eyes to meet the boy's own, finding it difficult to make his hands move at all to say the skipping words that were coming at him like a gust of wind.

"What's wrong?" Ron muttered and tossed a magazine into his trunk. "You should hurry, Hermione's waiting—"

"I'm not going…" Harry signed with his eyes still firm on the floor.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked with a confused tone. "Ah, mate, don't stay because of what Ginny did! She had the punch too and you know she was…well she'd been…always had…has…does…" Ron was trailing off as his cheeks were reddening, his voice growing awkward. He scratched the back if his head quickly. "Dean's not angry with you or anything…I mean Seamus said they had this big row and broke up and Ginny said not to blame you, that it was her—"

"That isn't why I'm not going," Harry signed. His head still hurt, still pounded with dull pressure.

"Then why?" Ron asked a bit tensely. "It's Christmas…and no one's going to be here…"

"I…I just want to stay here…" Harry signed, unable to say the words he really wanted to say to Ron, the truth, finally the truth but it was caught in his throat, gripping there against the fear.

"Harry…" Ron said and Harry hated how soft it sounded.

"Please…I have my…reasons," Harry signed.

There was a pregnant pause between them and Harry's fingers were buzzing with rising apprehension.

"Right…" Ron said and Harry almost flinched. "Ok…" Harry looked up and Ron was the one staring at the floor, expression filled with hardened recognition. "Well, Mum's not going to be happy." The boy let out, straightening himself.

Harry watched as the boy finished packing and slammed the trunk's lid down and it shut loudly, the sound of it hurrying through the quiet room.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed when Ron faced him.

Before Ron could say anything Harry interrupted:

"For what happened with Ginny," his hands fumbled with the words, "I know I'll have to talk to her…I don't…you know…"

"Obviously," Ron muttered.

Harry gave the boy a just nod.

"Expect my presents," Harry signed.

"Ours too…" Ron said.

"Hermione is—?" Harry began.

"Yeah, she's spending it with me—_us_," Ron said hastily.

"Good…" Harry signed. "And with me out of the way you can get a lot more snogging in."

Ron punched Harry's arm playfully, his face growing red once more. "Come on."

Harry grabbed up his coat and scarf, putting them on as Ron heaved his trunk from his bed and put a hovering charm on it. It followed Harry and Ron out the door and down the stairs where Harry was met with a mostly empty common room. Hermione stood near the portrait entrance bundled up like Ron and Ginny stood by the sofa, her eyes cast down, her red hair shadowing her face.

Harry stopped at the foot of the stairs.

"Meet us in the entrance hall," Ron said and walked with this trunk trailing behind him past Ginny and over to Hermione who gave Harry a smile before his two best friends joined hands and left the common room.

"Harry…" Ginny said gently as Harry walked gradually over to her. "I wanted to talk…to you…and apologize…for what happened last night…"

He noticed her body was trembling softly. He was looking down at her black boots and then her dark green winter coat, her hands as they were held together before her, her red knitted scarf and at last her anxious eyes.

"I…I know…" her voice shook.

"It was wrong," Harry signed, his eyes unyielding. "No matter why it happened it was wrong…What you'd been doing to Dean…it was wrong. I wanted you to know that, coming from me."

Ginny closed her eyes and took a breath.

"I know…I shouldn't have…been with him…knowing that…" Her eyes sprung to look directly into his, "knowing that I have feelings for you…" Her cheeks were rosy.

"Why didn't you just tell me then?" Harry signed though he already knew the answer.

"You just…seemed like you never noticed me," Ginny said. "Even though it was obvious…that I liked you that way…You just…you never said anything…but you never said yes to any of the other girls either…"

He was angry with her, he wouldn't lie, he was angry because Severus had seen the kiss, because she had decided, no matter if she had a few too many glasses of punch as well, she had decided to hurt someone, to string along Dean like that even though her infatuation was directed at him. He had been accustomed to that guilt for only a week so how could Ginny have dealt with it for so long?

She loved him, he could understand that, could see it in her eyes. But nothing she did, not at The Burrow, not with Dean, or on the couch they stood by, or on the Quidditch field, or on that dance floor, nothing she did could deter his heart from the way he felt already. He wasn't afraid to make her see that now and perhaps it was his fault, all of it, perhaps he should have stopped it long ago before it got out of hand though he had not but it didn't matter now.

"I'm sorry for how I did it," Ginny said with a trembling tone. "But I'm not sorry that I kissed you. I couldn't help it…I just…I really—"

"I can't return your feelings," Harry signed. Was it cruel of him that he didn't feel bad because of it?

The tears were fast to come to her eyes.

"Why? Why not?" Ginny said and her voice broke.

"I'm already in love…" Harry started to sign but he was too cowardly to tell her the exact words he wanted to express, "with someone. I've been in love for a while…that's why…I never wanted…That's why I ignored how you felt about me."

And her tears fell, swift, and the red color was swift to come to her cheeks.

"Who—"

"It's not a girl," Harry signed and he wasn't humiliated.

It seemed to take a long while for Ginny to understand his hands. Would she tell everyone now? He was finding it hard to care at the moment with his heart feeling so strained…

"Don't waste time over it," Harry signed, looking past her tearful eyes and sad expression. "I'm sorry…if it hurts…"

"Of course it hurts!" she snapped, her voice suddenly strong even though she was crying. "It…It's not fair! I didn't even want to feel this way about you! But everyone talks about you! Everyone always…always!" She wiped frustratingly at her eyes, gasping. "But I was dumb enough to think I could be different, that I _was _different! That I could be the one…that you…that you…" Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, her shoulders shivering. "But I'm just like them…after all…" The power in her voice was dwindling and her vision was forced to the floor. "I'm sorry…"

Before he could do anything or just stand in front of her like an idiot she turned and rushed out of the common room. He remained in the ticking silence of the room for a moment. He was alone; he was staying behind this time.

He walked with measured paces down the many flights of stairs, his head aching and empty. When he reached the entrance hall he found Hermione and Ron waiting for him. He could see the jovial mass of students all eagerly boarding the carriages outside as Professor McGonagall was directing them.

"Harry, last night—" Hermione said as soon as he stepped up to them.

"Was fun," Harry signed and he was smiling. He looked to Ron and winked. Ron gave him a somewhat disgruntled expression that turned into a half smile.

"We'll miss you," Hermione said quickly.

Harry nodded.

"Happy Christmas," he signed. "Tell everyone for me. Tell them to enjoy themselves and take care."

"We will," Hermione said. Her eyes were growing misty but she kept the small smile on her face.

He hugged Ron first, tightly, and Hermione's hug was even tighter.

"We'll see you soon," Hermione said when she came away.

"Have a good New Year," Harry signed while nodding. His eyes stung.

"You too," Hermione and Ron said in unison. "Happy Christmas."

They began to walk towards the open doors.

"Take care," Harry signed to them when they looked back. "Happy Christmas."

"Bye Harry!" Hermione called, waving, her eyes teary, holding a mixture of uncertainty and happiness.

Harry waved back and stood still as he watched the last of the students board the carriages along with McGonagall. He waited by the large oak doors, staring in a transfixed sort of way as they got further and further away, the Thestrals galloping across the snow packed earth. Then they were out of sight and Harry knew that he didn't regret not going with them.

The walk had been long like before but much colder. He had listened to the sound of his boots crunching with every step he took, every foot print stuck into the white snow. He thought of many things absently, little by little, his gaze cradled by the glinting snow covered ground, lost in the frosty shadows that smeared through it.

His body felt so weightless, his frightened heart so nimble yet warm. He wasn't lost but he felt subdued, he felt intimidated somehow, felt rigid with unbearable emotion. It was fiercely consuming. He couldn't think. He didn't want to be afraid but he was.

Harry let his body fall upon the snow, over the spot where he knew his godfather's grave was made, the grave he had made, the letter buried and crumpled in the frigid earth below. He lay there on his back feeling the icy ground but the snow was soft somehow, it helped the dizziness in his head, settled his empty stomach, soothed how frail his limbs felt, put strength in them.

What would his mother say to him? What would she think? Would she accept it?

He couldn't help but picture her face as he stared up at the winter blue sky through the bare branches of trees, his breath rising in the air.

He was stalling like always. But he wished, in this moment, that someone was here to push him to take the last few steps, that someone would tell him it would be alright, there was nothing to fear, nothing to regret, that his heart would never lead him to ruin.

What would Sirius say to him? If he knew? If he knew his godson was going to confess to the person he loved, loved shamelessly and truly and entirely and immensely and agonizingly so? Would he be angry? Hateful?

Death had taken Sirius away from him, he had slipped through the Veil and he was left without his voice but Severus had been there, at the door, alive and waiting and across from him in that sunlight that blanketed their booth, noticing him, understanding him, talking to him, caring about him, _looking _at him. And on that heavenly beach, in the ocean, in summer…

Severus was there, had always been there, in that sunlight.

His heart was pounding.

He couldn't be the only one who felt like this, who loved someone like this, who needed someone like this.

Was he still guilty? Did he still feel guilty? Was that word so big on that chalkboard still? Or had grief surmounted it, suffocated it? And the hole in his heart, did it still ache, did it still torture him so?

And the memories were there, of Sirius, whole and real and colorful. He could see Sirius, standing tall, smiling, he could see those eyes, brave and dark and lively and aged, he could hear the man's voice in that room, full of encouragement, truth, and hope, he could feel the weight of those hands on his shoulders even now, could feel the relief in the embrace they had shared even though he had still been so afraid, how he had wanted to keep Sirius company, how he had wanted so much to hear the stories that existed behind the man's eyes, to know Sirius.

He wanted to hold on, to hold on to Sirius with all he had, to keep him alive, to keep Sirius here with him in some way. He didn't want to admit that he wondered when missing the man this way would stop, didn't want to admit that loving Sirius had left him with a broken heart. He didn't understand death, didn't know why death was life's counterpart. And he couldn't stop wondering where Sirius had gone; if he wasn't here, where had he gone, what was not living like?

He felt foolish for lying in the snow like this, for obsessing over someone who was dead, had been dead for a while now. He missed Sirius, more than missed him; this feeling in his heart was worse than loss, worse than longing, because he knew that no amount of missing, of longing, would put the life back into Sirius's body, would allow him to breathe again and be here with Harry and tell him things that he needed to know, tell him what he thought of this, of Harry and his grief and his love and his life and Severus and it was agony not to wish that things had been different, it was agony to know how much he would never give Severus up for anything, it was agony to love a person like this…

He hadn't realized how tight he was clutching his hands into fists until his palms stung. There wasn't a corpse beneath him, there wasn't a lifeless body buried beneath him but he could feel Sirius's presence with him, lying here with him. He opened his burning eyes and turned his head as if the man would be there but he wasn't, there was just the snow and the frozen lake water and…

Severus.

The man was many feet away, before the trees, standing on the ice and in the wind, the man who had saved him, who had taken the broken heart he had unknowingly and rectified it, the man who loved him, whose love was trickling into the empty well in his heart.

Harry sat up and saw Severus begin to walk across the ice. So fast did the vicious need fill his chest, it was almost primitive, a courageous compulsion that was teeming through his veins, attacking his limbs, making him want to leap to his feet and run to the man but he squelched it out, held his breath but he couldn't pretend that he didn't yield to this man, couldn't pretend that this moment wasn't something he had been quietly and madly waiting for.

The man was getting closer as those shined dress shoes were walking across the ice easily.

Harry got to his feet, his balance a bit off because of the slippery snow. He worried suddenly for the man's safety, why was he just walking across the frozen pool like that? Was it stable? His thoughts felt frantic, his blood felt like it was rushing recklessly through him, his heart beating wildly.

He wanted to call out to Severus.

Brushing himself off, he made his way down the slight slope of the snowy bank and onto the thick ice. He almost slipped but steadied himself as he held out his arms. He looked up and here the trees didn't cover the ground in shadow, the sunlight was splayed over the ice and snow almost beautifully; it glinted and gleamed with shades of blue and white and the luminescence could have been blinding but Severus was clad in all black; he had never seen the man's heavy coat, and that pale skin, like moonlight; he didn't know how to describe it, didn't know how to describe how those richly obsidian eyes stood out so vibrantly, brilliantly against the winter day, surrounded by the ice and snow and trees.

He didn't like how breathless he abruptly became. He was supposed to be confident now, sure and powerful and composed. But it was impossible; he knew this as he clumsily made his way over to the man still impractically worrying over Severus and the frozen water beneath them. The man was silent, his strides simple, expression still and calm while Harry tried to walk but his feet kept slipping and he had his arms out for balance; he should have just stayed back there, he was just embarrassing himself this way…

When he made it to the man he would have fallen backward if Severus hadn't reached out to grab both of his forearms to steady him. Harry let out a breath, the puffs of steam escaping, and he looked up to see Severus's face, his windswept hair, the shine in those deep black eyes, his scarf wrapped around his neck as it covered his chin.

He was handsome and tall and those lips were thin and soft looking…

Harry glanced over the man's gloved hands in a moment of shyness he couldn't avoid. Was his heart even in his chest anymore? He didn't know and he couldn't feel his legs, was he shivering? How jumbled this all was or his head was because the world around him was silent, he didn't hear birds, even the wind was quiet. He stared at his boots, following the laces. He could see the beams of sunshine tracing the swirls of frozen lines under the ice, could see the iridescent glare of its surface in his peripherals. His cheeks were burning, his nose cold.

"Harry," Severus said.

Harry raised his eyes and met those black pools, his vision trembling. Why did his body have to shake so much?

"I saw you walking…" the man continued lightly. "Thought I'd follow…"

He felt the heat in his ears. So the man had seen him lying in the snow like that…

"Sorry…I…" Harry muttered mutely and Severus let his arms go and Harry straightened himself the best he could, his feat a bit unsteady.

"I've been…quite anxious," Severus said softly. Harry watched the breath of white that left the man's lips. "I didn't want to wait to see you."

And this was it, this was his moment, earnest and valuable and ideally significant…

He searched for the words, carefully and with some desperation. His heart felt clenched but he had gone over it in his head, over and over until it lived in his mind like some common backdrop every time he would look at this man.

"You know…I thought…for a while I thought about a future without you," Harry began, slowly, keeping the feeling and strength in his hands despite how cold they were, "what I would do if I gave you up…or had to…or if you would leave…"

Severus was staring at him with that placed composure but his eyes were gentle and listening to Harry's hands, his signing, watching his lips form the mute words.

"For whatever reason we weren't with each other, I thought "What would I do?" Would I have someone in the end, you know, like a partner…a home…and things like that…" Harry tried not to follow his hands while he signed and he remembered in that instant how he used to do that a lot when he had begun to learn sign language, how unsure and timid he was with his hands, with the words and remembering them and he was scared but the fear was washing away, leaving with his shivering breaths. "And maybe…when I was older…I'd meet you somewhere…like people do…Like a pub because you drink a lot, you really shouldn't you know…" His lips were trembling but he pressed them together and swallowed down the sudden torment that threatened to flood his heart. "But I'd drink a lot too…because I'd hate being home, I'd hate a lot of things and I would be thinking of you, I'd think of you a lot and why I let us go…You'd notice me and I'd be bitter and you'd be bitter and older and…I'm sorry…and we'd talk for a while and you would go home and I would want to say all the things I never could to you but I wouldn't…and…" His eyes stung with the tears but he blinked them away. This love was so controlling, so demanding of his body. "And when I realize that…when I know that…A life without you…I can't…I just can't…" He felt embarrassed and inadequate and ridiculous but there was a braveness in him and he wondered if this is what people felt like when they loved someone, when they were about to tell that someone… "I tried to get my voice back…for you…to tell you…But I…What…what I'm trying to say…is…"

A freezing wind passed by them, harsh and swift. It blew their hair, scarves, and coats eagerly and took Harry's exhausted air from his lungs, made him shiver as it reached his skin, as if he could feel it over his bones. Severus was staring at him with the sun outlining his hair and lighting up the dark in those bottomless pools of black.

And his heart seemed to have ceased its drumming and he'd forgotten how to breathe when his eyes followed the man's hands as he raised them and he watched then, stunned it seemed, as Severus signed clearly:

"Harry, I love you."

It had been graceful and steady and perfect.

Harry bowed his head because the tears in his eyes came surprisingly fast and he didn't want Severus to see. His shoulders shook, he trusted this man too much and of course the man would do something like that, something so _inviting _to make him feel _right_ and he'd probably never see it again…

Harry let himself breathe, lifted his head, felt the charge in his heart, knew he was ready now.

"I love you too," Harry signed.

He felt free in that instant as if he had been holding back those words for too long. He had said them, no matter if they had been mute, no matter through sign, but he had said them and hot tears managed to fall despite his efforts to stop them.

It was done.

Before he was aware of it he was being kissed. He could feel Severus's hands holding the sides of his face and he had closed his eyes against the frosty wind that rushed past. There was heat in his face, such heat planted there and he didn't know if he could hold himself up and he was shivering.

Severus came away and Harry was left to stare into those obsidian eyes, at the warmth in them, Severus's warmth and kindness and love.

"Shall we go?" he almost whispered.

Harry nodded.

Severus took Harry's bare hand into his gloved one and led Harry across the iced surface. Harry's heart was still racing, he was nervous now. They walked side by side through the snow, hands in their coat pockets, back to the castle and down the spiral staircase to the dungeons that were silent and empty.

When Severus opened the door to his personal quarters Harry realized that he hadn't been here in a while, almost two months, it had been almost two months since they had tea together, since they had been so close to one another and made each other warm and pleasured each other…

He swallowed down the rising apprehension which only made his stomach feel tight and stiffened his shoulders. His cheeks were flushed.

Severus stepped inside and Harry followed, making his legs work. He watched the man take off his scarf and his coat to reveal the fine looking button up black wool sweater he wore over a dark blue dress shirt. After taking off his gloves Severus hung the garments up on the coat rack.

"I'll make us some tea," the man said and left Harry in the entry way.

Harry began to unbutton his coat as he was suddenly self-conscious of what he was wearing. He ignored the feeling and slipped off his scarf and heavy coat and hung them next to Severus's. He stepped into the sitting room gradually and looked around. There was a crackling fire in the hearth. Nothing had changed and for some reason he was thankful for that. He felt at home here, comfortable.

He moved over to the large couch and hesitated but sat down. The fire warmed him, settled his shivering and he could feel his hands again.

After a moment Severus returned with a silver tray of two steaming cups of tea which he set down. Harry had missed this, dearly. Severus sat next to him, not so close but their knees touched. He didn't know what to do or what to say or how to act. He had just told Severus he loved him, he had returned that love, they loved each other, sitting here, finally together after days and days of avoidance and impatience and doubt…

Severus took up his cup and Harry mimicked him. It was white tea with honey. Harry smiled softly as he sipped it, his body remembering everything it had felt in this room. He placed the cup back on the tray as Severus did the same.

It was quiet.

"Did your friends wonder why you didn't go? Did they question you?" Severus asked.

"Well…Ron did…this morning but let it go…and," Harry paused and stared at Severus. He hadn't told the man about Hermione. It wasn't right to keep it from Severus, not anymore anyway.

"Harry—"

"She knows…Hermione," Harry signed quickly.

Severus didn't respond right away but his expression was kept straight, lips pressed together.

"When?" he said almost tonelessly.

"The night you were called…I had a…" Harry blushed and cursed himself for it, "a hickey. But she'd been suspecting it for a while…She's been supportive…you know…"

"You were wondering why Ms. Gardiner was there in the Hospital Wing with me that afternoon," Severus said simply and then, quite bluntly did he say: "She knows as well."

Harry felt the color drain from his face.

"What?" Harry said mutely. "What?" he tried again forgetting about his hands that were on his knees.

"Harry…She was helping me with being able to…overcome the doubts I had about us," the man said gradually. "We had a few sessions; she'd come here after she finished with your—"

Harry stood so fast he almost fell over. He could barely find the attention to breathe or think.

"Harry, it's fine—"

"When?"

"Harry—"

"When!?" Harry signed roughly. His face was burning.

"It's been weeks now, since November…" Severus said, looking up at him calmly though there was worry in his eyes. "Relax, Harry…"

"All this time…she knew…and she…I…" Harry signed. "Weeks?"

"You're embarrassed," Severus said directly.

"I…Of course I am!" Harry signed and felt energized now and anxious.

"I was as well when she so candidly expressed it to me that she knew," Severus said. "But it's alright—"

"She never told me, she just…just let me feel like—" Harry was flustered and confused. Ms. Gardiner knew, knew that he loved Severus, that they had a relationship together, knew the reason for why he had felt so miserable and hopeless during their sessions…

"She wanted you to tell her, Harry," Severus said. "You're her patient; it isn't her decision to forward the truth without any effort from you, she wanted you to trust her. She was so frank with me because she wanted to help you…"

Harry stared at Severus in disbelief still.

"It felt threatening at first…I am not the kind of man who is so willing to convey himself to anyone…and I feared she would endanger you and myself…" Severus said. "However…as much as I despise admitting this…I was grateful for it…She forced me to realize how wrong I was to push you away even for the selfless reasons that weren't true…You shouldn't be angry with her…"

"I'm…" Harry started but didn't know what to say. How would he face her now that he was aware that she knew their secret? What should he do? Should he just accept it? According to Severus, Ms. Gardiner was being just as supportive as Hermione was being and he couldn't fathom it, couldn't believe that it had happened and that Ms. Gardiner had cared enough to help Harry by helping Severus. He had mixed emotions and they just kept entangling with one another.

"You should be angry with me," Severus said. "I've been…cruel…I'm sorry…I doubted you…I didn't want to believe that you wanted this…this sort of life…but…"

Severus looked at him and Harry was surprised that those eyes looked somewhat concerned.

"I want to spend it with you…" the man's gaze was obstinate, "no matter what."

Harry sat down, his heart thumping away against his ribcage, his hands on his knees. There was a stretched silence between them; his body felt tense. A warm hand fell over his right, gently. He faced Severus and let his eyes stare into the inky wells until he felt dizzy.

"I missed you," Severus whispered.

Their lips met as the man leaned down. Severus pressed hard into kiss, deepening it as Harry parted his lips so that tongue could swipe across his. He felt Severus's hand on the back of his head, fingers tangled in his short locks, it was a strong hold as Severus deepened the kiss even further. It was hot and Harry's mind grew frenzied with pleasurable chemicals that had been released. His skin was tingling all over.

Arousal stirred within him, spreading and gliding so easily through his flesh and muscles and senses and a shuddered quake ran up his spine, warmth blending with cold, the cold caused by the sudden excitement he felt, the need that ran through him, sensitive, it was so sensitive in the darkness of his vision as his eyes were closed and the man was stealing away his breath, his meager self control. The embarrassment was there, highly, but there was nothing he could do.

They wanted each other, he could feel it even through the wool of their clothes as Severus had come so close now, through the heat in the man's fingertips, it lived in the air around them, the love they had carried for each other lived in their flesh, in their hysterical hearts.

Their kissing grew more powerful and quick and Harry's hands had found Severus's chest and he let his fingers graze over the wooden buttons of Severus's sweater, let them grip at the fabric, tracing it until he found himself feeling up the man's torso, exploring over the muscle underneath, hidden, so hidden…

And Severus must have taken this as an invitation to begin working his own hands over Harry's body. Harry moaned noiselessly as he felt Severus's hands move up his thighs and grip his hips. His cheeks were aflame, his cardigan making everything much to hot around his chest. Severus found its buttons and undid them with ease.

Their lips parted and Harry was left gasping for breath as Severus found Harry's neck and began kissing and sucking there while his hands were feeling the softness of Harry's shirt, the slimness underneath. He was lightheaded with how good this was feeling, had it always felt this good, this pleasurable? He didn't know.

In the next moment Severus was kissing his lips again, leaning in and Harry let his body fall to lie upon the couch. His legs somehow brought themselves up as Severus's body was over him now, darkening Harry's vision. Severus came close, enclosing his heat over Harry's form and he felt the man's weight slightly, felt the difference in their body size, could feel the strength that thrived in the man's limbs.

Harry was hard, he was aware of this as his jeans felt much too tight and he remembered just how hard he would be when he would wake up in the mornings and how much he ignored the ache there and how he had thought about touching himself but never did for whatever frustrating reasons.

And Severus? How had he faired? He wondered hazily as he moaned again into their kissing. He brought his hands up to finish undoing the man's buttons, clumsily, but the sweater was open and his hands were met with the form fitting dress shirt and the solidity of muscle beneath, that sort of fleshy heat and weight above his hands as he rubbed, massaged, he didn't care how he did it but he was touching everywhere he could.

Minutes drifted by, ticking away on the clock upon the mantel and Harry's erection was persistent and the heat in his body was drowning him and he was gasping as Severus was sucking ruthlessly on a certain spot on his neck, bruising it.

He pushed up with his hips and was met with the firmness of Severus's lower abdomen and even that was enough to send blissful sketches of pleasure through his constricted member. He realized the arousal he was under was driving him mad, making him think of all the things Severus's hands could do, of what that tongue could do, of exactly where he wanted attention and how…

Severus kissed him again and Harry could hear that the man's breathing was a bit labored. Was Severus hard?

The man parted and the sound of their jagged breaths filled the sitting room; the light above had grown dimmer with the mood. Severus bowed his head, the sides of their faces touching and he could feel the temperature in the man's skin, how hot it was, how that contact made goose bumps ghost over his skin. His heart was pounding with such dedication.

"I'm here with you now…" Severus whispered in his ear. "Harry…" He was staring up at the ceiling, chest rising up and down with effort, the scent of the man's cologne so evident to his nose, the taste of the man's mouth hovering upon his tongue, his lips buzzing. He felt their heat, the fabric of clothes, the wonderful weight of the man's body.

"I want to make love to you," he said.

The words swept through him. He tried to breathe. He swallowed. He blinked. His heart squeezed.

Severus lifted himself with his hands and Harry's vision met those black eyes; they were so full now, real and lovely and vulnerable.

"I know…you're sixteen…" Severus said and Harry took too much pleasure in how much those words didn't sound calm or so collected. "I don't…know if it matters to you…If you're not ready…I'll respect that of course…but I won't deny that it's what I want to do…"

There wasn't much time to think but he didn't really need to. He wanted the man to make love to him; he wanted them to have sex, to know that closeness that they had yet to experience. Did it matter if he was only sixteen? Or that Severus was twenty years older? No. It didn't. He had known that for a while now, since the start of this and ultimately, in this moment, he loved Severus, they loved each other and that, _that_ was what mattered to him.

"I want to," Harry said silently.

And it didn't bother him too much that he was still without a voice; Severus was with him and the fear that rose up inside of him was natural but so was the anticipation.

Severus didn't say anything. He only got to his feet as Harry sat up, trying to cover the hardness in his pants with his cardigan. Severus took his right hand and led him to his feet and to the bedroom and all the while Harry kept his eyes on the man's back.

He was nervous now, hastily nervous and he didn't like how scared he was or the curiosity that developed over his thoughts; he was a virgin after all and Severus? Had the man—

He hadn't been aware that he was sitting now, in the man's room, on his bed with its black and dark blue silk sheets and pillows and Harry found himself wishing the light above wasn't so bright.

"Harry," Severus said.

"I…I don't really know what to do…" Harry couldn't stop the words.

"Don't be nervous…" the man said. "I'll go slow."

_I'll go slow._ The words echoed in Harry's mind and quite startlingly did this feel as real as it actually was. He realized he wasn't so much aroused anymore; the fear sort of pushed everything else he had felt away. He was clueless about sex, well, he knew the textbook basics but he had no idea of what he was actually supposed to do.

Severus came close to him and began to slip off his cardigan.

"I'm…I'm a virgin," Harry's numb lips worked the words out without his brain's consent.

"I…I'm aware of that, Harry," Severus said lightly.

Harry blushed, feeling like an idiot. He couldn't think straight, he realized his body was trembling.

"I meant…I mean…I wanted to know…" Harry forced his eyes to stay connected with Severus's gaze. "Have you…have you…with a…man?" Harry's hands gripped the sheets unknowingly. God, how he wished he had one ounce of Severus's composure.

"No," Severus answered and he took off Harry's cardigan and folded it over his arm, looking down at the floor. "I have never…with anyone."

Harry's eyes widened.

Why was he so surprised? The man had only loved one person before Harry, had only felt that way once and lived so many years in guilt and grief and bitterness. Why was it hard to believe? Was it because Severus was ruggedly handsome? With those black eyes and moonlit skin and all these nice clothes and he was tall and strong and intimidating and played the piano and smart and a good cook and had a voice that melted his heart and bones—Surely, _surely _he hadn't been abstinent for, well, his whole life? Had gained some _unhealthy _habits from being a Death Eater?

"You're…a virgin?" Harry said mutely.

Severus only nodded once.

"I'm…acquainted with…the process of…it," he said steadily as if Harry needed that reassurance.

No, it wasn't bad that Severus was a virgin; it was just the little fact that Harry was the one that Severus wanted to lose his long-term virginity to. That was what made all of this more frightening and the pressure of it invaded his consciousness like a storm.

But they had pleasured each other before in plenty of other ways and Harry had been good at it, hadn't he? But what was his performance supposed to be compared to?

Harry's thoughts were in a frenzy, his nerves shattered and what bit of self-esteem he had deflated.

He knew it was wrong to think like this, to think that it should matter but he couldn't help it, he was sixteen after all.

"Harry?"

Harry's spaced out attention rushed back to concentrate on Severus's face.

"Are you alright?"

"I don't…know…" Harry grasped at the words as they floated through his emptying mind. "What should I—"

"You just have to relax," Severus said. Harry's cardigan was on the floor now and Severus was unbuttoning Harry's shirt. "Don't be embarrassed."

Harry watched his shirt join his cardigan and he felt the cold air of the room grace over his bare chest. He watched as Severus took off his sweater and then undid the buttons of his dress shirt.

Harry felt quite unprepared for this but he trusted Severus and he wanted, if he had to be truthful, he wanted this to be special and so quickly did the memories of last night rise up in his mind with such clarity.

Harry slipped off his boots and socks as Severus let his shirt fall to the floor and he watched as the man took off his dress shoes and socks.

"Lie down," Severus said gently.

Harry hesitated but moved back to the bed's pillows and lied down, shivering because of the cold surface of the silk sheets as his back and arms were met with their touch. He shut his eyes, trying to calm his nerves, and when he opened them the man was over his body, looking down at him. They were both shirtless. Harry felt the metal piece of his necklace slide over his shoulder.

"It's alright," Severus whispered.

Harry held his breath.

"You're stunning," the man said. "I've missed touching you…feeling you."

Harry felt the fingertips of the man's right hand glide over his chest.

"I dreamed of you…" he said in the quiet of the room and Harry listened to those words alongside with the sound of the echoing heart within him as it beat, "too many times…"

Harry found the man's chest, the naked skin, the toned muscle and the shadows and then he was staring into those black eyes that were so transfixed on his own face.

And he knew, here, with the shadow of the man's body cast over him and the elegant light in the room, that he wanted that closeness, he wanted to feel it, to feel how alive it was and baring and special and how terrifying and desperate and defenseless and blissful it could be.

He knew this love, knew its company, how it whispered inside of him, how it snuck over his dreams in the night and played out scenes of compassion and longing and heat; he didn't know how love began, how this love began, how it grew, like a song, he didn't know any love songs but he could hear, faintly in this moment because those eyes were looking at him with that profound devotion, those sorrowful piano pieces that lingered in his memory, they could have been about love…

Severus leaned down and his lips kissed Harry's right ear gently. Harry closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Severus's shampoo and cologne and the fresh linen smell of the room. He felt the man's hair brush against his cheek and in the darkness behind the lids of his eyes he could feel the body above him, inches above from contacting the bare skin of their chests.

He felt safe, he felt like he was worth it to such a man, that he deserved this, this constancy and life and love and how dreamlike it felt even now, even now when the day was easing into the afternoon but it could have been dark out, could have been late and he could be sleeping right now and dreaming this but it was different, it felt _too_ real and he existed here with Severus so much that he couldn't understand anything but this at times, couldn't grip at the other realities that were supposed to be important to him and it was foolish and naïve and romantic but he couldn't care, his reverberating heart was not alone; he was the keeper of the heart above him, that was his purpose as if he were meant for it…

"I love you…" Severus whispered with such softness, "deeply, Harry…Forever, I promise, forever."

The words were so near and they were the secrets kept in the man's heart, the inner things of one's soul that sometimes lay forgotten or ignored and these things, these passionate things, like buried treasure troves, were his.

He felt Severus's right hand caressing the side of his face, his fingertips brushing lightly over the elevated heat in the skin. Time seemed so arrested in these moments, so slow and Harry remembered that he was extremely nervous and the light above had only dimmed just a little as he opened his eyes.

He lifted his hands and his quaking fingertips felt the nude flesh of Severus's chest, it was taut and warm and strong and he could feel the muscle tense. How did Severus feel when Harry touched him this way? Intimately? When there were no dress shirts in the way, no black attire to hide the moonlit skin underneath. He reached further as Severus was kissing his neck delicately as if he were holding back the inevitable of where this would lead them or rather, was he indulging? But Harry reached still, his hands parting oppositely, fingers spreading so he could feel the muscle, the bumps of ribs; he followed higher over the skin and ignored the trembling in his limbs and before he knew it he was feeling the shoulder blades of the man's back, they were stiff and he loved how they moved justly as Severus was kissing his collar bone.

Harry felt them, reached as far as he could go until his hands glided apart again and settled on the sides of the man's torso, lower until he felt Severus flinch just barely. Harry liked the feel of how fit the man was, not burly but still strong, his muscle definition was apparent, his form slender but tall and there was that power there that Harry could feel, the toughness in that muscle, the weight and heat of it.

He could feel his member stirring again, reacting to these arousing thoughts and the touch of the man's body, his torso and stomach. The stimulation of it was heightening alongside the embarrassment and it was confusing; he didn't know what to feel about sex, he didn't know what it would feel like and if there would be pain but he trusted Severus and knowing that blanketed the fear enough to allow him to at least move and feel.

Severus came away from Harry's neck and began to kiss him, unhurriedly, sensually and Harry's lips moved in time with the man's own. Severus parted after a moment and he came away from Harry, sitting up on his knees that were settled on either side of Harry's outer thighs, head bowed to stare down at him with those black orbs and Harry fell in love with the spots of pure light that gleamed in them and he was reminded, in the back of his mind, of all those ink sketches he had done of the man, how he had drawn the man's eyes exactly so and his heart, even then, had pounded away as if he could feel it through the pen in his hand…

Severus was touching him, his right hand drifting down as those fingertips were stroking over the skin of his chest and further down his abdomen. His stomach was clenched with that fear or nervousness, the sensation jumping and skipping underneath those hot fingers. His arms were at his sides again, unmoving and his thoughts were dizzying as he continued to look up at the man.

Both hands were over his upper body now, tracing and chasing the shadows and feeling the skin as if for the first time and Harry flinched and shivered as the embarrassed heat flashed over his face, thriving so much in his cheeks that it was unbearable. Those fingertips and their slight pressing weight moved, flowed and he watched Severus come close, bending down, those hands holding his sides as his lips kissed over his chest. He came closer, giving Harry his weight and warmth so suddenly that Harry gasped. Severus's hands were splayed over his shoulders now, Harry shut his eyes tightly as the man's lips fell over a nipple, sucking on the pink bud, tongue caressing and draping over it.

Harry bit his lip at the sensual flares that raced over his chest, leaping down straight to his groin. Muscles tensed everywhere in his body. He longed for darkness around them, it wasn't enough to just see it in under his eyes; he wanted the darkness to hide him from the man, that's how embarrassed he was, his body shaking timidly, hands grasping at the sheets and he glared at them, at their color tones to find some calmness for his body, for his emotions and shy self. He couldn't help it, Severus looked so striking under this light, that body so real, much too real and he knew they had been naked together many times but this was different, somehow this was different…

He could feel the man's hand stroking his chest, moving down to his abdomen, rubbing and falling over the side of his waist, gripping his hip bone and he tried not to squirm or realize how badly he wanted Severus's weight to crush him with that pleasure of friction, how he wanted to feel Severus's naked form over him.

The arousal was sparked, instantly, with that thought. His erection stiffened tightly, pushing again at his boxers and jeans, the fabric so constricting it was maddening. Severus was kissing him once more, deeply now and Harry was out of breath and he gave in to his desires and moaned noiselessly into the kiss, his shoulder blades stiffening and moving. Severus's tongue worked inside his mouth, greedily, as fingers pinched his left nipple, rubbing it, motivating it to harden and he felt the cold air swirl over his chest, the shivery pleasure sent harsh arousing sensations down to his groin.

"Harry…" Severus said. "I want you, I want you to feel good, I want to make you feel good." That velvet voice was somewhat raspy, laced with arousal and so enticing to Harry's senses, so seductive. He wanted too much in this moment, wanted things to be rushed and hot and he wanted to breathe faster, he wanted movement and roughness, he wanted Severus's voice to be louder, wanted Severus to be breathless and he wanted to see color in that skin, a blossoming red and he wanted friction, pleasuring and hostile…

Severus's hand was over his erection, the bulge in his trousers and Harry licked his lips as he was lost in the shadow that the man's body created upon him and the light that broke through behind Severus. He was hungry for pleasure but he was nervous again.

The man was looking at him.

"I want it…" Harry said soundlessly, his lips numb and tingling and breath gone. "I want…you."

And there was something there in that black, fear perhaps and he wasn't used to it, not this man, not Severus Snape who had stalked dark corridors and whose shoulders had once looked too weighted with sullenness and whose eyes were always masked over by anger and whose voice never used to sound like this but rather so biting, so cold, so cruel, he had been cruel, hateful, mean, nasty, almost ugly to Harry's eyes all that time ago.

But back then he had never seen this man, the man here with him now, he had never seen Severus as human, warm, handsome, strong, kind, interesting. He had never seen the man he had wanted to be, had never seen him in sunlight, in those expensive clothes, a gentleman, tall and composed and soulful and breathing and touchable and next to him, here, close, closer, skin, life, black eyes so wonderful, so god damn wonderful…

And fear, that same fear could be there and worry and vulnerability and reserve and hope.

"I'm sure," Harry said mutely before the man could ask. "With you, only with you…I want it…"

"Harry…" Severus said much too softly.

"I love you," the words were in his head but inaudible to the world but he believed in them.

Severus's chest moved as he let out a breath and Harry watched those hands move down and take the waistline of his jeans and his button was undone, the metal jingling and the zipper hummed as it came down. Harry didn't move as he listened to the sounds of Severus stripping him of his trousers and then his boxers. His ears burned when his erect cock was free to meet the icy air of the room.

Harry stared with unblinking eyes as Severus moved to grab something from the bedside dresser. Harry's heart tumbled over itself when he saw the small clear bottle. He swallowed with difficulty and pushed out his breath and inhaled deeply.

Severus placed the bottle on the bed and moved close, hovering above Harry's naked body.

"You're beautiful," the man said before he kissed Harry's lips tenderly.

And Severus spent the next long, stalling minutes teasing Harry's skin, kissing his neck with much more energy now, the eagerness of it throttling Harry's senses, making him pant as he listened to the slick noises of the man's mouth as they licked and bit and sucked in a fine balance with the man's hands as they traveled with such need over his form, holding tight, stroking.

Severus's breathing wasn't so calm anymore; it was becoming labored and loud enough that Harry could hear it. Harry's erect member was begging for attention but alas the man hadn't gone near it yet. Harry, with his eyes closed, felt the bed move under his head as Severus placed his hands on either side of it to support himself as he gazed down at Harry.

"You're lovely," Severus said and kissed Harry once and a hand skated through his hair. He moved and Harry gasped when those hands were spreading his legs apart.

And he was suddenly so aware of the word "sex" again and that was what they had been aiming for with all of this, all of this what was it called? "Foreplay" right? "Fondling"? Harry brought his mind back to the present and realized his body, which had been under that arousing euphoria, was trembling now, shaking with his nerves. Would it hurt? Of course it was going to hurt, it had to hurt, didn't it? What did he know?

And that face was labeled with that composure but to Harry it looked intimidating and attractive at the same time.

"Relax," Severus said.

Those black eyes met his. How did he look? Did he look afraid? Were his eyes wide with it?

"Harry, look at me."

Harry, whose vision had abruptly averted to the ceiling and all that light there levied its way back to those pitch dark pools.

"You're not relaxing," Severus said quietly. "Breathe, loosen your muscles, I want there to be as little pain as possible for you…"

Harry's heart shook at those words but still he followed them, lowering his tense shoulders, letting the tension out of his chest, he let his legs fall as they were now laid out on either side of man. He could feel the heat underneath the man's hands that were on his thighs, could feel it growing there. He licked his lips.

"I'm sure you know how it's done between men," Severus said gently.

Harry nodded.

"I have to prepare you before…" Severus looked down and then back up at Harry, "I can be inside of you."

Harry didn't move. His body was growing cold despite the heat in his face.

"If it becomes too painful for you or if you want to stop, let me know right away," Severus said and the words sounded nervous. "Alright, Harry? Don't feel pressured."

Harry nodded once and licked his lips again, swallowing and tasting the tea they had drank, the sweetness of honey and his throat felt tight.

Those hands brushed along his thighs and Harry flinched as his thighs were spread. He knew Severus could see him down there, could see that spot where the man would—

He couldn't think of it, his face was on fire as his legs and thighs were spread, his knees bending as Severus pushed them even further apart and up widely and Harry shut his eyes when the bottoms of his feet could feel the man's slacks, his legs.

The hands left him and he was laying there on the bed, on his back, with his legs spread apart, his thigh muscles tensing at the position but he had always been agile, flexible and those words brought such fire to his ears, he was going to go mad from embarrassment.

He opened his eyes and saw the man pick up the bottle but place it down again.

"The lubricant has a numbing agent in it," he said without looking at Harry, "It will anesthetize some of the discomfort but you'll still feel…" And Severus's eyes were on Harry's.

"It's fine," Harry mouthed, his jaw somewhat rigid. "Just…I'll be fine."

Severus didn't respond. He only began to stroke Harry's inner thighs lightly, softly with his hands and Harry gasped when a hand brushed over his genitals. Severus looked at him again.

"You're so alluring…like this…" he said with that hushed silky tone. "My heart is pounding…"

Severus looked away quickly after that and for some reason that action made Harry's own heart jump hard.

Harry reached out with his left hand and Severus's eyes moved to see Harry's face once more.

"Kiss me," Harry said mutely. "Before…Please…"

Severus was swift to oblige to Harry's request and kissed Harry with fervor, pushing against his lips, a warm hand on the side of his face and then the man came away, somewhat breathless, and he grabbed up the bottle of lubricant and Harry heard the cap snap open and he tried to prepare himself for what was next.

"Just relax," Severus said.

Harry waited, staring at the thick book on the bedside table with its dark blue cover and the fireless lamp beside it.

He felt the coldness first over the spot and his immediate reaction was to hold his breath and clench the sheets. It was wet and slick as he felt Severus's finger massaging the small area in the circular motion. The man's free hand was over his right thigh. Harry concentrated on the new sensation and the lubricant gel was growing hot and slippery as that finger coated the area with it, rubbing sensuously.

He felt that fever coil at the bottom of his stomach, felt his erect member twitch at the sensation. It felt different, strange, but he could feel pleasure too. He didn't move but focused on breathing.

More lubricant was applied and Harry gasped sharply as he felt the man's finger enter him and so instantly did his heart begin its frantic thumping and his breath was caught in his throat. There was a finger inside of him, Severus's finger…It went deeper, easing its way inside and Harry knew there was pain there, a burning discomfort but he ignored, he was more focused on the fact that something was inside him.

"Harry, relax," Severus said and the sound of the man's voice startled him and his eyes hurried to find those black pools that were gazing at him so intently. "It's alright…"

Harry let out a breath and stared hazily where the man's hand was but he couldn't see what Severus was doing.

The man's finger began to move, slowly, in and out and Harry could feel the motion, could feel the intrusion of it and the slight pain that was growing into a heat he'd never felt before, creating sensations he'd never felt before. It was slick and wet and good, it felt good and bizarre but Harry centered in on the feeling as the finger was in deeper, to the man's knuckle. His erection responded to the feeling and Harry could feel that finger grazing against those walls of nerves.

And then that finger inside of him did something that sent a sharp delightfully pleasuring response that hit Harry's groin with such stimulation he had to gasp, the intake of breath sending a jolt to his shaking heart and a fiery heat to his eyes.

"That's your prostate," he heard the man say, almost whisper. "It felt good, right?"

Harry could only nod as the finger inside began its motion again, faster, the bit of pain gone and the tip of Severus's index finger pressed up against that pleasuring gland once again and Harry's cock twitched and Harry shut his eyes tightly, letting out a breathy moan, his thighs tensing and quivering.

He knew Severus was watching him, watching his reactions and being careful with Harry and so gentle Harry was having trouble letting himself go.

He felt a sudden pressure inside of him and discomfort and he realized that two fingers were probing him now, easing in with that wetness and he could feel the stretching burn but with his legs spread like this, with the heat down there and his erect cock jutting up like it was and leaking out the lucid fluid like tear drops Harry didn't know what to think and those fingers moved in and out, it was tight at first but his muscles adapted to the two appendages and the smooth motions.

Harry was breathing harder when those fingers began to move in scissoring motions, extending his entrance and it hurt, a bit, but Severus kept brushing past that spot, pressing against it intentionally, once or twice at first so Harry would get that rush of pleasure and that sweet and hot stimulated leap sent with a shocking speed to his cock and he would have to moan, have to grip at the sheets, have to think of Severus's fingers inside of him, have to think of the unbearable, lashing heat that nestled over his chest, that heat in the very air in his lungs.

"Does it feel good?" Severus said with that fluttery velvet that made the dizzying embarrassment more alive inside of him.

He wanted it, he wanted those fingers inside of him, pumping and hot and preparing him and he was surprised at how easily his body complied, at how the arousal was bleeding through him, making his head cloudy with it.

The bottoms of his feet pressed against Severus's legs as a third finger was inserted and Harry bit his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes tightly. There was a bit more pain now and it felt too tight for those three fingers to fit and his heart quivered and the fear rose in his tensing stomach but his eyes, open now and squinting against the light of the room, vision trembling, found Severus's own stare and he was lost in that composure and the heat he could see in the man's face, the shadows over Severus's chest.

Slowly his muscles relaxed and conformed to those fingers and Harry felt much too aroused and the weirdness of the action had vanished completely. He was enthralled in the stimulating sensation, the tip of his member was reddening and wet with pre-come and he was moaning and those fingers were stretching him, slick and rubbing and stroking that perfect spot with a faster speed.

He couldn't take it; it only felt good to him now, too good and sensitive and mind numbingly pleasurable.

"You like this," Severus said. "Don't you, Harry?"

Harry nodded and those fingers pressed up again, rubbing over that spot.

Harry moaned, gasping at how good it felt, he was dizzy with it, he could see stars flickering in front of his vision as those fingers worked inside of him.

"You want to come, don't you?" Severus said.

Harry looked at the man and felt his cock throb, how badly it ached.

"I want you to come, Harry…from just this," the man said and those black eyes seemed to be glazed over with that greed, with that arousal and that special spot was massaged and those fingers found it over and over.

Harry moaned noiselessly at the blinding pleasure and he felt his cock strain with that driving sensation, felt his genitals tense and so abruptly did he orgasm, his body tensing, his walls tightening around those fingers.

The white lucid substance spurted over his stomach and chest as he was gasping through his orgasm, riding the waves of sweet pleasure as they flowed through him, over his skin and vibrating heart.

Harry's body settled as he was breathing hard, staring vaguely at Severus whose gaze was soaking him up so engagingly. Harry's face was flushed. He had come already, he hadn't been able to control it, not when the man was speaking things like that and teasing that spot inside of him and no amount of nervousness could combat the fact that he hadn't had an orgasm in almost two months, hadn't masturbated, had held out for so long even in the mornings where his prick was so hard he knew a few strokes would send him over the edge effortlessly…

He was embarrassed and breathing fast. Severus's left hand had found his wand that was on the bed and Harry flinched when his spilt seed disappeared from his skin. Harry stared at his cock and was surprised that it wasn't flaccid now, it was a bit limp but he could see the straining veins and he could still feel the heat inside of him, Severus's fingers inside of him.

Harry looked up at Severus and he could see now the very noticeable bulge in the man's trousers and he blushed, his skin shivering from the lingering effects of his orgasm.

"Harry…" Severus said.

"It's ok…I…I want you to feel good," Harry managed the soundless words. "I want to feel you…"

Severus nodded once and Harry gasped as the fingers left him and the empty feeling was strange and uncomfortable. Severus cast a hasty nonverbal and the lubricant was cleaned from his fingers and he dropped his wand. Harry watched the man unbutton his slacks and then Severus was naked as his slacks and boxers fell to the floor.

And Harry's eyes fell on the man's erect cock. It was lengthy and Harry could remember its weight, its thickness, it had been in his mouth before, many times…

Harry swallowed and wondered, foolishly, if the man's member would be able to fit inside of him and even with that thought Harry still wanted the man inside of him, no matter the fear or if it would hurt.

His legs and thighs were still spread as he stared at Severus's groin and his stiff erection, the head red and engorged. Severus had come close to Harry suddenly and he was being kissed again and hands roamed across his body, gracing over his hips, clutching at them, stroking and tantalizing. Severus kissed him intensely, their tongues battling, wet with saliva, lips slipping and molding against each other. Their cocks touched, rubbed as Severus rocked into the kiss gently, a hand in Harry's hair, tangling in it as the other was under his thigh, holding tensely there.

Severus parted, out of breath with that lovely tint of red in the man's cheeks, his lips bruised, eyes glinting with arousal and need and devotion and wondrous love…

"I love you," Severus whispered.

The man moved backward slowly and he positioned Harry's body, lifting his hips so that Harry's lower back rested against the man's knees, his thighs spreading further. He took up the lubricant and Harry watched in a sort of trance as Severus coated his member with the clear gel.

Harry's locked thoughts had begun to slither out into view now and arousal pooled in his belly at the sight before him, at Severus touching his long member. He held his breath when the man's left hand took hold of his inner right thigh, his other hand guiding his cock just before Harry's opening.

He shut his eyes quickly when he felt the head push into him, slowly.

The tears that came to his eyes surprised him. It was painful, there was pain and burning inside of him as Severus's cock was being eased through his hole. Harry gasped.

"Harry…" Severus breathed.

Harry looked at the man, at those glazed over passion, aroused eyes and how black they were, like midnight with the moon living in them, that reflecting light so tranquil and beautiful.

It stung as the pressure grew but Harry didn't focus on the pain or how he wanted to grab at the man because of the fear but rather the sensation of Severus's cock burrowing deeper and deeper inside, much deeper than those three fingers could go, and the heat of it was so intense as it built up inside of him. He heard the man let out a weighted breath.

And after a moment Severus had penetrated him completely and Harry didn't move and tried to relax his breathing, his muscles and his wracking heart. He could feel it, could feel how thick it was, pulsing and hot and big and stretching him, he felt the fullness of it, how deep Severus's member was in him. Severus's hands held Harry's inner thighs.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, that velvet draped with arousal. Harry could tell, easily, that Severus felt good, that the man liked being inside of Harry like this, deep inside. He felt the man throb and let out a breathy gasp, remembering to nod, blinking away the tears. The pain was ebbing away mostly or rather mixing with the pleasurable feeling of the man's member within him. He felt like he needed the friction to accompany the heat, to give it some sort of relief.

"I'm going to move now," Severus let out.

Harry liked the way the man's voice sounded, a bit strained with the compulsion of his aroused cock, of seeing Harry this way, of being inside of him, of feeling Harry this way, of being connected like this, close like this, of making love this way.

Harry's fingertips brushed against the cool silk around him. Severus's hips moved as he pulled out of Harry almost entirely. Harry let out a sharp gasp and couldn't help but writhe his own hips at the sudden loss of being filled and the twinge of pain. Severus pushed inside of him again, not as slow and his slick member invaded Harry again, pushing deep. Harry breathed out, panting now as he felt the man's hands grip his thighs. And Severus moved again, the same motion, back and forth, out and in, slick and wet and hot, Harry's walls were persuasive around that thick cock, supple enough to allow the lengthy member to move slowly, in and out as Severus's hips pushed, rocked in that gradual motion.

Harry stared, absorbed in the scene of it all, of Severus's nude body, of the rippling muscles of his abdomen as they worked, tightening, tensing, clenching and relaxing, his chest taut and shadowed and skin looking soft.

Severus's face was what Harry's eyes were really gazing at. The man's black orbs were cast down, falling shut every time he pushed inside of Harry. There was a rose color in the man's skin, slight perspiration glinted on the man's brow, his lips were parted, his breath shaky.

Harry's cock stirred once again, hardening as the sensual arousal spread through him and the man's member probed him.

He could hear it now, the sounds of Severus's member sliding in and out of him, smooth and wet.

It was feeling good to him now, growing more and more pleasurable with every stunted thrust of Severus's cock and he moaned silently, the impulse of it strong and needy. Severus's member was brushing over his prostate, easily and sensitively. He could hear Severus's breathing become labored, could see the pleasure making the man's eyelids shut.

Then those eyes were on his.

"Does it feel good?" the man said.

Harry nodded, biting back a moan, seeing that ecstasy settled heavily in Severus's eyes.

Severus's hips began to move quicker and Harry panted against the feeling of that cock stroking faster within him. His own member was bobbing slightly with the motion of Severus's thrusting that grew faster still.

"Harry…" Severus breathed out.

The strings and sparks of pleasure whisked over his skin, twining considerably in his member as his hands gripped the sheets above his head as he had raised his arms now, breathing hard, gasping at the binding and grappling pleasure that was overtaking his body, his shaky sight kept on the man above him.

Severus let go of Harry's thighs and Harry cried out when the man came close to him, burying his cock deeper in Harry's arse and before he knew it Severus was on top of him, kissing him as his legs were spread and the man was thrusting faster.

Harry moaned at how full the man's member was, how he could feel the pulsing of it and the agonizing heat and how stretched he felt and how the man's thick member massaged against that glorious spot. He could feel the just pain, Severus's weight, could smell the man's skin and cologne and warmth and felt the struggle of his muscles, that strength that was so subdued. Severus was gentle, Harry knew this, knew the man was holding himself back from the urge he was under to thrust harder, deeper into Harry's body.

Severus smothered his face into the crook of Harry's neck, bit down on the skin, breathing harsh.

"Harry…" Severus let out. The man's hands held Harry's body close and Harry lips were by the man's ear.

He was whispering the man's name, he knew that, knew it was soundless but for the breathy heaviness that left his trembling lips, his cheeks so flushed, his brain muddled with the intense pleasure of sex, and they were having sex now, Severus's cock was inside of him, in his body, and he could feel his galloping heart, could feel the man's own heart wild in his chest, Harry's hands held onto the body above him, afraid to do anything else.

And Severus moaned; a noise letting free from deep in the man's throat.

"Harry…" Severus hissed in his ear.

Their hearts raced each other with desperation. There was passion inside of them, endearing and real and fanatical and generous; this attachment was crushing, aggressive, and everything to Harry in this moment, everything he would ever need. His eyes burned with tears as Severus was holding on to him. The man's very breaths seemed to wrap around Harry's soul, the blazing heat in his body made him senseless and lost, he could hardly breathe and the sensual bliss was glowing inside of him, filling him with such incredible, swelling pleasure; it encompassed him, built up inside of him, knotted and consuming.

His vision blurred and the light from above cast over his pooling tears streaking out ribbons of glinting rainbows and he gripped Severus's body tightly.

Severus hips were thrusting, his cock so fevered in Harry's body. Harry could feel how stiff it was, how erect as it throbbed.

"So tight," Severus managed through his sporadic breaths. "Harry…"

Harry could feel the edge coming at him much too fast, too dizzyingly swift and powerful. He was almost delusional from the enveloping pleasure, too stimulated and breathless, his heart too crazed and all he knew was that he loved Severus, he was in love and they were making love and he could feel that sunlight somehow over his skin, could imagine it, could see Severus's composed face, those pitch black eyes rising to stare into his from across the table but it might as well have been across miles and miles of the blanketing universe and he had wondered then how he could know those eyes, know that body and that story that lived inside that protected mind but he had wanted to believe that distance wasn't so great, so surmounting, because he could remember their hands, spaced out on that table, inches away, not touching but there, real in that place, together, always together.

His mind ran along the memories, spiraling like the staircase that led him down into the dark dungeons where this man haunted and those eyes were haunting, incandescent, and that sun lived in them and he could feel that gravity on his body when those eyes would connect with his own, that meeting force, that abiding attraction, that weight, stronger than gravity, enveloping, dancing in that sunlight, it was everything, like an angry storm, bright, bright like Orion, celestial, and these young memories filled his heart, like rain water caught in a rose and they were precious to him, kindled like the flame in a floating lantern and this love, it was buried in him, it was a vast sea that he was lost in, adrift and praying that there was no end to it, that it didn't exist…

He bit down on the man's shoulder, squeezing his eyes so tightly against the speed of his hammering heart and the fiery warmth inside of him, the friction over their naked skin. He could hear Severus's noises, pleasured gasps of breath, an escaped hissing moan, a grunt.

He felt the need in Severus's body, his reserve and quivering muscles, tensing, he felt alive, so lost and so alive in this manic pleasure that rushed through both of their bodies and he felt this love as he gripped against the man's skin as if he needed to hold on or his heart would escape him, fly away through their hyper breathing and that end was peeking over the dark whirling tunnel his mind was flying through and he could see that hot, white lashing blissful finish.

His strained cock tensed and he moaned noiselessly and long and hard against Severus's shoulder as he came, his heart bursting, the bolting, accelerated ecstasy crashed over him, his muscles clenched, his face afire, his mind so empty.

"I'm coming, Harry…" Severus breathed almost desperately against his heated skin.

Harry shuddered as he felt the man's body stiffen, those hips and cock thrusting once, twice, again and "I love you, god, how I love you" and "Harry, Harry," and Severus let out a harsh, sharp breath as the man's member was deep inside of him and he felt Severus's shuddering limbs and the sweat on the man's face and the heat in his skin as he came inside of Harry, spilling into him, releasing against his tight walls and after a moment they were both gasping for breath, the sound of it loud in the chilled room, the warmth between them a brilliant place to fall back on when the last waves of their completion coursed through them, gentle and unhurried, settling as their pounding hearts calmed.

Severus was lying on top of him, arms under Harry's back, Severus's long legs tangled in his, the muscles sore and tired and shivering. His forehead was sweaty and cooling, he was thirsty, his head heavy with the fading shadowy euphoric feeling that sauntered out of his skull, he was sleepy. He could feel his come on his stomach, wet and sticky. He could feel Severus's spent cock inside of him still.

His eyes fluttered open, he breathed in deep and all he could really think was that it had been amazing, more than that, much more, but he couldn't find the word to describe the sex, the love making, his first time. It still hurt inside slightly, a stinging sensation but it wasn't bad and it felt good still to feel the man inside after it was done.

Severus's breathing was calm now and he felt the man kissing his neck softly, his warm breath against his cooling skin.

"I love you," he murmured.

And, after a long stretch of silence:

"Thank you…"

Harry closed his eyes and waited as Severus moved, lifting his body gradually and Harry flinched when the man's member slipped out of him and the rush of embarrassment that swelled within him was merciless. He couldn't find it in him to glance at Severus but a warm hand came to hold the side of his face and Severus leaned in and kissed Harry once.

* * *

The hot shower water felt good against his skin as he stood under it on shaky legs but Severus was behind him to steady him. The man washed Harry's body gently despite Harry's abashment. He shivered as the sudsy body sponge caressed his skin and over the contours of his body. When they were both done washing Severus dried Harry and himself off with the large fluffy towels.

There were still patches of heat lingering in Harry's cheeks as he put on his boxers and shirt. He felt entirely exhausted and the man suggested that Harry get some rest. The heaviness in his eyes couldn't protest as Severus dressed. Harry crawled across the clean smelling sheets and laid down, his head slumping on the pillows instantly. Severus covered him with the black comforter and kissed his forehead, whispering something Harry couldn't hear because sleep was edging in so softly and kindly and the warmth around him was wonderful and so soothing. He was asleep in seconds.

* * *

Severus closed the door of his dimly lit bedroom where Harry was sleeping soundly. He leaned back on the door and let out a breath. The nervousness in his body was finally being quelled, his legs no longer trembling. He stared down at his dress shoes, the shine in the black glinting back up at him.

Harry had said it, had told him he loved him for the first time. He had made love to Harry for the first time. They had both given each other their virginities in that room. He felt like he needed to shout for some reason but held down the urge and he steadied his breath. The images of that late morning and early afternoon were so actively vivid in his mind; Harry lying in the snow staring up at the winter sky, Harry with tearful, bright eyes and cold cheeks and a red nose and shaking lips saying those words he had so longed to know, to read, to feel and it had been so brilliant, no matter if he couldn't hear it, it had been radiant over his soul, mighty and true and he had held his breath.

And he had signed to the boy for the first time. It had been a spontaneous thing, perhaps to let the boy know it was ok that he couldn't speak the words, that it didn't mean anything less through sign and he knew that would most likely be the only time that he would use the language.

He shut his eyes, remembering everything, Harry, naked and ready and vulnerable and striking. He had felt Harry inside, deeply inside and it had felt much too good, too tight. The sex had been mind numbingly pleasurable, his bones had felt like they had dissolved with that pleasure and the heat inside of Harry's body, it was incomprehensible, indescribable and it had taken such willpower, such steady, intent restraint to not finish as soon as he penetrated the boy, _that's _how good it felt to him and considering it had been so long since he felt such pleasure he felt almost proud that he had lasted like that, for a while actually, how long had he thrust into that body? And Harry, he hadn't wanted to cause the boy any pain but it had been difficult considering the boy's size and his own body's…endowment.

He felt the heat clashing against his pale face as he recalled it all, his cock easing into Harry's entrance, holding onto Harry's lithe and slim form and how he imagined what those gasps and moans sounded like coming from the boy. It was too much for him, too much for his self-possessed senses, for his body, even now he wanted to go back into that room and wake the boy and tell him about what they had done together, how wonderful it had been, how loving and real and primal and urging and he wanted to say how obsessive he had felt, wanted to confess just how much he had taken from it, just how much he had looked at Harry as if he were some lovely specimen to examine so closely for hours, how much he wanted to hold Harry and say such things to him, admirable sentiments that would glide off his tongue and sneak into Harry's heart.

But he couldn't, couldn't give in to such tempting excitement, couldn't pull the covers off the boy and kiss him and rouse him and suggest they repeat it, again and again…

He opened his eyes feeling calmer and lightheaded, his heart stable. He cleaned up the sitting room of their tea to pass the next few minutes. He wasn't tired, not nearly; he was wide awake though this whole day had felt like a dream. He was alone with Harry, had Harry all to himself for two whole weeks and of course he had plans for them but for now Harry was sleeping, the boy had barely been able to keep himself on his feet when they got out of the shower.

He sat down on the couch, placing his hands on his knees. He would make dinner for them tonight. How long would Harry sleep? He didn't know. Why was he so impatient?

He looked around the room, at its dark tones and then back at the low crackling fire. There was something missing. It was Christmas holiday now, the end of the year drawing closer as well. Severus eyed the familiar empty corner not occupied by bookshelves. Something was missing, something to brighten up the room, something that would make Harry feel comfortable, something that would make the boy happy…

* * *

His eyes opened slowly and were met with blurred silhouettes of the man's bedroom. It was dark in the room and his glasses were set on the bedside table and he reached for them, stretching his arm across the bed where he lay on his side in the middle. He was warm and he didn't want to leave the warmth and go out into the icy chill of the bedroom but he was curious as to where Severus was as well as extremely embarrassed knowing they had made love…

_ For the first time. _Harry buried his face in the pillow at that thought. He was also aware of the soreness in his backside. He lay there for a moment, unmoving, as he could feel the light twinge of pain inside of him. It was definitely bearable even if his legs felt tired. He sat up on his knees and put his glasses on. He wondered what time it was. He yawned and got out of bed, flinching at the freezing stone underneath his feet. He could walk almost normally he discovered when he went to the restroom, he couldn't take his usual strides but it wasn't an inconvenience.

He relieved himself and washed his hands and straightened his bed hair with a bit of water. He realized he was starving, his stomach feeling quite empty. He dressed himself in his jeans, finding his socks and slipping on his boots and warm cardigan. He walked slowly out into the hall and into the sitting room.

His eyes widened at the sight he was met with. There was a tree, a tall Christmas tree set up in the corner next to Severus's arm chair. He squinted, his brain still a bit fuzzy from sleep. Was he still sleeping? It was bare and he could see there were Christmassy boxes stacked on the coffee table and a few plastic bags. He must be dreaming.

"Harry."

Harry jumped a bit at the voice to his left and his eyes stared at Severus as he was placing a glass bowl of salad on the dining table that was set with their dinner, a dinner that the man had prepared for them. For some reason seeing it like this, Severus's quarters, it felt overwhelming as his chest felt a bit tight and there was heat in his face. He looked again at the bare tree and what was most likely ornaments in those boxes and bags and when did Severus have time to do this?

"It's almost seven, you were asleep for a while," the man said quietly.

Harry stared at his boots, his hands holding on to the sleeves of his cardigan.

"Are you alright?" Severus said. "Does it hurt at all?"

Harry could hear the lively fire in the hearth and smell the fresh pine of the tree and Severus's dinner of maple salmon and rice and he couldn't look up yet but he nodded his head.

"It is Christmas…" Severus said.

Harry could only nod and wonder where the man had gotten the tree.

"Come sit," he said.

Harry walked a bit clumsily to the dining table and took his seat. He flinched as his bottom connected with the wood of the chair.

"I can give you a pain reducer if you'd like," Severus said, his hand over the back his chair.

Harry shook his head, feeling the presence of that tree behind him and he had to fight the urge to look behind him. He stared at the small flames in the candle holder's orbs and let himself smile softly.

"Did you sleep well?" the man asked as he sat down.

He nodded and Severus served himself some of the salad and passed the bowl to Harry who took it with trembling hands. He tried to calm his heart as he served the salad, the scent of vinaigrette strong to his nose.

He placed the bowl down and the tears in his eyes stung and he blinked hurriedly to get rid of them but a few managed to fall and he took his glasses off quickly and wiped at the determined drops.

"Harry," Severus said softly.

Harry bowed his head, shaking it, biting his bottom lip, cursing at how sentimental and emotional he was; it really wasn't fair. It had just been so long since he had been here, since he had felt like this, content and happy and that damned tree had to be there right now and the smell of the dressing was so nostalgic to him it had taken him off guard or whatever little guard he had anyway.

"Sorry…" Harry mouthed though he wasn't sure if the man could see as he wiped the tears away and put his glasses back on and straightened himself in the chair. "Sorry," he signed.

"Don't be…" Severus said. "Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded quickly and took up his fork and Severus did the same. As he ate the delicious meal he listened to the sounds of their silverware clinking on the white china plates here and there and the light thudding of their glass cups of iced tea when they would set them down and he would glance at the man and find that Severus was staring at him too. When they were finished Severus vanished the dishes away with a flick of his wand and stood and Harry watched the man walk into the sitting room and grab up a silver box, lifting it and looking at Harry with those composed eyes.

Harry stood and walked down the few steps into the sitting room and eyed the boxes, catching the twinkle of crystal and glint of ribbon.

"I've never done this before…" Severus said quite softly.

Harry raised his eyes to see the man as his expression was tranquil, eyes staring at the box of silver and blue glass baubles. Harry smiled.

"Did you find the tree yourself?" Harry signed.

Harry was surprised when Severus nodded once.

"Really?" Harry signed. He glanced at the healthy looking tree. The top was inches away from the stoned ceiling. It was a nice looking tree. Did Severus really pick it out? He knew there were plenty that grew around the school and that Hagrid had the job of cutting down the ones that adorned the Great Hall but he couldn't imagine the man walking out in the snow to get one but the tree was here, cut and placed in its stand. It seemed too surreal but this was their first Christmas together…

"Harry?"

Harry had spaced out once again and his eyes retreated back to the boxes of ornaments.

"When did you…?" Harry signed, raising an eyebrow.

"While you were sleeping…" Severus said. "I apologize for leaving…however I wanted it to be a…surprise…"

"Where did you go?" Harry signed and took a plastic back carefully.

"Hogsmeade," the man said. "I was somewhat quick with my selections so the ornaments may be a bit random."

Harry opened the bag to find fairy lights inside. He smiled again.

"Well, I think we should get to it then," Harry signed.

Harry searched through the boxes as Severus took out a long roll of silver ribbon decorated with a fine pattern. Harry found two boxes of blown glass baubles, a box of crystal ornaments in different shapes; a nutcracker, an angel with a trumpet, a rocking horse, a snowman, two doves, and a snowflake. Harry stared, transfixed, at the shine it gave off on his fingertips in contest with the firelight and lamp light above. He walked over to the tree timidly and faced Severus as he held the dove in flight and Severus walked over, picking up the second crystal bird and stood next to Harry.

Harry hung the fragile ornament with care and watched the man do the same, placing his a few inches above Harry's. Severus looked down at him, black eyes next to that glimmering crystal and Harry smiled, his heart warm.

They spent a while decorating the tall tree. Harry liked handling the silver and blue baubles and feeling the soft glass, they placed them all over the tree, the baubles, the crystal ornaments, some were wooden, some baubles were so extravagantly made Harry worried about dropping them as he took them from the box and moved slowly over to the tree making the man smile as he watched him; there was an ornament shaped like a tea cup and painted skillfully, a few that were like icicles, there were a few that were chess pieces which Harry thought were interesting.

Harry could feel the man smirking at him when he stood on tip toe to reach the topmost parts of the tree though he still couldn't get to the last few inches and Severus assisted him. The tree was taller than the man but Severus's six foot something inches were enough to finish the parts that Harry missed. When the tree was fairly decorated Harry helped the man dress it with the silvery ribbon and then they added fairy lights.

Harry found the tree topper in a black box and admired the craftsmanship of the star. It had a weight to it as it was outlined with a shined black metal and there were coils of metal wound around a blue glass orb in the center. Harry went over to the tree with the final addition and looked at the top pointed straight branch and then to Severus who was fixing a bauble so it wasn't cluttered with the others.

Harry knew he wouldn't be able to put the star on top of the tree and when the man looked down upon him Severus smirked.

"Do you want to?" Harry asked silently.

There was that warmth in the man's eyes and the reflections of the polished ornaments lived in that deep black and Harry felt the heat in his palms as he held the star.

"I think you should," the man said softly.

Before Harry could ask if the man had a foot stool or think of using his wand Severus had stepped close to him and in a quick movement he was being lifted. Harry grabbed the man's shoulder with his left hand swiftly to steady himself as his heart was startled and the star was held tightly in his right.

"There," Severus said, "a collaborative effort."

Harry held out the ornament, blushing as he set the star easily on top of the high tree. He couldn't help but smile at their finished Christmas tree and how brightly animated it was. He cast his eyes down upon the man who was staring up at him with that quiet contentment. Harry placed his hand over the man's other shoulder and leaned down to rest a soft kiss over Severus's lips.

Severus lowered him easily and Harry's feet were once again firmly planted on the floor. Severus took out his wand, tapped the tree with it and the fairy lights sprung on, their white starry light giving the tree that something extra and then with another tap, to the tree topper, the small blue orb of glass in the center glowed with an illuminating sapphire. Harry grinned, stepping back as he took in their Christmas tree and the various colors of blue, silver, and crystal. It brought such spirit to the sitting room, that holiday cheer Harry had been having trouble feeling till now.

He glanced at Severus who was staring at the tree with that sereneness that he was so good at showing in his features. It was a lovely sight and a lovely tree and there were no worries in his mind and he couldn't understand or fathom how he had gotten here from where he had been more than six months ago but it was where he wanted to be, with Severus, with this tree and in love and the silent, secret way they could treat each other, of the way Severus was as a man, a brave, kind, composed, strong, and captivating man.

"The piano," Harry signed promptly when the man's eyes were on him. "Will you play it? Please?"

Severus gave him that modest smile.

"I'll make us some tea first," the man said and Harry watched him go to the kitchen.

Harry organized the empty ornament boxes and placed them all in the bags and set them down upon the coffee table as he eyed the lit up tree. He stared at the bottom and wondered if he should go retrieve the presents he had purchased for the man. He had ordered them through catalog during the week before the dance and they were now in his trunk, wrapped neatly with all the rest of his gifts he had gotten for people. Before he could decide the man came back with their jasmine tea and sweet biscuits.

They sat close on the couch in silence as they sipped at their tea and stared at the Christmas tree. It was its own character, more sophisticated than the Weasley's dynamic and jolly tree but still Harry enjoyed it very much and the mere fact that Severus had done this for the both of them was such a thoughtful gesture.

They spent the late evening at the piano and Harry had to hold back his enthusiasm as the man played many songs, a few of Harry's most favorites and ones he hadn't heard before. Severus didn't look tired at all after it had been more than two hours and Harry's eyes hurt from the long moments he had gone without blinking. Severus persuaded Harry to try during those hours and Harry did so quite ungracefully and without any rhythm.

"Perhaps some vodka might assist your hidden musical talents as it did your dancing," Severus said as his fingers fell over the keys again.

"I can't dance…I probably looked like a right idiot last night," Harry signed fervently, his cheeks flushing.

"On the contrary, you were absolutely mesmerizing," Severus said and played a short, swift active tune.

"No I wasn't—"

"Yes you were, the plenty pairs of eyes that were utterly fastened to you give perfect testimony to that plain fact," the man went on and played another little melody without looking at the keys.

Harry couldn't respond.

He executed another short piece while saying: "How about we test it hm? Grant you a few shots and see if it loosens your—" Severus stopped his playing and had gone completely rigid. "I'm sorry, god, I'm sorry." A hand came up to cover his face, rubbing his temples.

"What's wrong?" Harry signed nervously and quickly, having no idea why the man looked so repentant.

Severus let out a breath.

"I was about to…suggest that you might be capable of _singing_ under the inducement of alcohol like a complete ignoramus," Severus said almost bitingly. Clearly the man was angry at himself.

Harry, however, had to stifle a laugh at the man's use of the word "ignoramus" and had no idea why it amused him.

"It isn't funny, Harry," Severus said abruptly, turning to face him, his eyes entirely penitent and concerned at his sudden lack of sensitivity.

"It's alright," Harry signed. "It was a joke…"

"It wasn't…not really," Severus said quietly and cast his eyes down to look upon the small space between them on the piano bench. "I forget…sometimes…I suppose…I forget even though you haven't said a word since June…Some insensate part of me makes me believe it'll suddenly happen and I'll hear your voice, like that, out of nowhere you'll start speaking…"

Harry took the man's right hand is his own, feeling the slender fingers and their warmth.

"Don't you realize how completely selfish that is?" Severus said. "If you knew exactly how much I thought of it?"

Harry smiled gently, lowering his eyes to fall on their hands.

"It isn't though…" Harry said soundlessly. "It's completely normal…"

"Harry…" Severus said exasperatingly and stood quickly, his hand slipping out of Harry's and he rounded the bench quickly and headed for the door.

"Wait…" Harry began, feeling anxious and he got to his feet hurriedly and was about to follow the man but tripped unsurprisingly over one of the legs of the bench at it sent him colliding with the stoned floor. Harry winced at the pain in his palms and his knee as he lifted himself to sit on his knees.

"Harry," Severus was at his side in one blurred movement. "Are you—"

"I'd be a horrible singer…" Harry said mutely as he stared at the small cut on his palm.

Severus didn't say anything right away:

"I doubt that…"

"No really," Harry went on. "I had to sing in a play once when I was eight and it was bad, the teacher hated it, I wound up just moving my mouth to the words and not singing at all when we put it on…"

Severus smiled, his brow furrowed a bit at Harry's meager attempt at humor.

"You were only eight," Severus suggested.

Harry nodded, shrugging.

"I miss your voice…" the man said softly. "You have a nice voice."

Harry smiled, feeling his eyes sting a bit.

"I'm sorry," Severus said.

"I'll get it back," Harry signed as he stared up at the man. "I know I will."

"Of course," Severus said and he helped Harry to his feet.

"Will you play one more?" Harry signed.

"I'll get something for that cut first," Severus said subtly and he went over to the one of the shelves.

Severus played more than one piece as Harry sat there, listening to the sorrowful yet beautiful tones. He didn't think the man needed to be so protective and delicate over Harry's muteness; he liked the man's teasing and even more so he liked, with a bit of sadness as well, how much Severus cared and how much he looked forward to hearing his voice again, how he hadn't forgotten it like Harry had done once before…

* * *

"Is it ok if I sleep here?" Harry signed as he watched the man dress in his black silk sleeping pants. They were in the bedroom and Severus was shirtless.

"It's fine," Severus said. "The Headmaster is travelling at the moment—"

"Where?" Harry signed.

"That, I am not aware of," Severus said as he folded his slacks. "But most of the teachers leave the castle for the holiday and return on Christmas and then depart again for the New Year; it depends on the amount of students staying over the break. In the past we used partake in a lottery to determine who would have to stay and who would be allowed to leave. Many teachers do enjoy actually having a holiday…" Severus looked up at Harry at where he was sitting on the bed still dressed. "Considering you're the only student here the castle is quite empty say for Professor Trelawney and Filch."

"What about you?" Harry signed, giving the man a curious expression.

"Me?" Severus questioned.

"Do you ever go on holiday?"

"No…" Severus answered and then looked as if he were thinking. "Well, I used to take a few days out of the year to go…sightseeing." The man smirked. "Or use that as an excuse to get away from Dumbledore's Christmas antics."

Harry grinned.

"You don't anymore?"

"No, not since…" Severus trailed off and Harry looked at his bare feet quickly.

"This is…nice," Harry said noiselessly when Severus came close to him and he was staring up at the man's bare chest. "I missed it…more than anything…"

Severus brushed Harry's bangs aside with his hand and said:

"I'll have a house elf get you some clothes in the morning." Severus's hands came to Harry's waist. "But for now I can just take these off."

Harry blushed.

"But it's cold," Harry said silently.

"That's why we have blankets," Severus said in that velvety whisper. "And body heat."

Harry felt a shiver go up his spine as Severus began to unbutton his jeans. They were off quickly and the man took off Harry's cardigan next and shirt. Harry wondered if they would do anything intimate that night. Severus laid down on his preferred side of the bed and beckoned Harry to lie next to him. Harry, in just his boxers, hurried across the large bed as it was very cold in the room and lay down as Severus brought the heavy comforter around them.

Harry's breath seized when Severus brought him close to his strong body.

"Your feet are cold," Severus whispered before kissing Harry's glowing cheek. Harry drew himself closer to the man's body and was caught in the fragrance of Severus's fine cologne and the scent of the fresh linen. He wondered even though he had slept for a while of how he could be this drowsy again. He could hear the man's metrical heartbeat. Harry touched the man's chest gently. The light above dimmed until it was dark in the bedroom.

He shut his eyes, sleepily knowing that their Christmas tree was lit up in the sitting room.

"I love you," Severus whispered softly in his ear.

And those words echoed into his dreams as he drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Severus woke up alone. That's what he was firstly aware of when his eyes were open to the diffused light in the bedroom even though he had been expecting to wake up with the warmth of Harry's body that was supposed to be in his arms right now. Severus lifted himself up quickly and it was true, Harry was not in bed with him. Severus glanced at the small clock on his bedside table. It was 7:30 in the morning. His eyes found the restroom door that was wide open, the light off.

He got out of bed, hissing at the icy stoned floor and briefly thinking he should really invest in a rug in the near future. With the feeling of concern rushing much too expeditiously inside of him he didn't care to find a shirt or slippers but left the room and with his long strides he was down the hall and in the dining room and immediately caught whiff of the burning smell floating in the air. It was coming from the kitchen.

Severus opened the door swiftly and was met with the sight of his now much disorganized kitchen. It was a mess actually. He found Harry at the middle counter stirring some sort of mixture in a bowl with a whisk and behind him was a skillet which could have had something that resembled eggs now burning to a crisp in it and another frying pan with bacon sizzling away at a very high temperature.

The counter was covered in flour and splotches of whatever else and various bowls and packages, unwashed dishes were in the sink, and Harry again with flour smudged on the side of his face and over one of the lenses of his glasses and his shirt was stained with it. How had he slept through this?

Harry looked up, wide eyed, at him.

"You're not supposed to be awake!" he read those fast moving lips and saw the boy's flushed cheeks.

"Harry…you've made…" Severus muttered trying not to be bothered by the messy disorder that surrounded him or that Harry was by a flaming stove with whatever was burning in that pan.

"Breakfast!" Harry mouthed. "It's supposed to be breakfast! But…" Harry looked around him frantically and saw the burning thing in the pan and made quite a comically exasperated face as if the boy were letting out a frustrated cry. Harry took the skillet off the burner and the fire underneath rose up threateningly making Harry shuffle backward causing the halfway burnt mystery meal to slide from the pan and fall to the floor. Harry looked at the object with such dejection in his eyes Severus found it hard to keep his composure.

And the flustered boy with flour in his hair and baking mix stuck to his arms looked at him with those bright eyes.

"Don't be mad…" Harry said silently as the bacon sizzled fiercely behind him.

Severus turned and exited the kitchen and once inside his bedroom he grabbed up his wand from the wingback chair and, with his cold feet pacing across the icy stone, hurried back into the kitchen where Harry was trying to tend to the bacon and he hadn't expected to slip on the egg yolk and what on earth else that was splattered on the tiled floor but he did and the next thing he knew he was on his back and staring at the frying batter that had somehow gotten on the ceiling.

Harry had whipped around at the sound of his back meeting the floor. The boy rushed to him only to slip on the egg yolk as well and Harry joined him on the floor, on top of him. Straight out of one of those romantic muggle comedies, Severus thought fleetingly with an inward sigh. It was better than waking up to the kitchen actually on fire though.

It hadn't hurt much, just a bit hard on his spine and Harry wasn't at all heavy but the boy lifted himself up hastily, breathless and very red in the face. The boy, on his hands and knees now, looked absolutely shocked.

"I'm sorry!" Harry let out. "I just wanted to make you breakfast…as thanks for the tree and…" Harry looked dizzy. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Severus answered directly but he could feel whatever wet thing spread on his backside and it was difficult for him to hold back his grimace.

Harry wasn't moving as he was over Severus's form, his eyes broad and that blue shining and Severus liked how even like this, with bed hair and flour smudged glasses, Harry appeared stunning.

"Are you alright?" Severus said.

"You look sexy when you first wake up," the mute words were said and Harry looked surprised after he let the comment escape and he sat up on his knees. "I'm sorry," the boy signed and began to ramble: "I wanted to make you breakfast but I didn't know what you really like to eat for breakfast and I didn't think you'd like pancakes so I tried an omelet first but that was a disaster and then I tried oatmeal and you didn't really have anything instant so I thought bacon and eggs and then I thought you might _like_ pancakes—"

"Harry," Severus interrupted, trying not to laugh and in fear of the boy continuing on forever. "Just…let me clean this up…Let me get up."

"Right…" Harry nodded and got to his feet quickly, almost tripping over Severus's legs.

Severus got to his feet, grimacing now at the yolk that was smeared on his back and picked up his wand and with a few flicks of it the scorched bacon was gone, the burners were off and the mess on the counter top and floor disappeared.

He heard Harry's breathy sigh behind him and stared at the boy whose head was down.

"I didn't think it'd get this bad…" Harry signed. "I thought I could cook but…I was nervous and I don't know all those spells you use when you cook…"

Severus smirked gently and lifted Harry's chin to stare at the boy's floured face.

"Go clean up and I'll…correct things here," he said.

"I can help," Harry signed fervently.

"No, it's fine, go clean up," Severus said, ushering the boy out of the kitchen. He spent the next few moments moving his wand about the room and was satisfied when things were put away, the dishes were washed, and everything else was spotless once again. Severus remembered the batter on the ceiling and flicked his wand to get it rid of it. And, after a cleaning spell on his back which he had to carefully aim, he was out the door to find Harry exiting the guest restroom as he was putting on his glasses.

And arousal circled in his chest and he was surprised at how quick he felt it, titillating a shred of embarrassment as he stood there in his sleeping pants and nothing else as Harry was dressed in the clothes from the day before, that long wool cardigan drooping on the boy's shoulders. Severus passed the boy and went into his bedroom and into the restroom, closing the door.

It was different to have the boy here knowing he didn't have to leave. He felt foolish after the scene in the kitchen and the remark Harry had made. After he used the restroom he washed his face and hands, avoiding his reflection in the mirror and brushed his teeth. He took a glance at his hair, it was wavier than he would have liked and a bit tousled.

He left the bedroom intent on getting dressed for the morning but Harry was there, sitting on the bed and gazing idly at his shoes, ignorant to the civil war inside of him that was inciting his senses. He tried to restrain the greedy feelings he was having. It was the morning, Harry was most likely hungry and so was he but his heart would not settle and he wondered how he could be so comfortable around Harry to be shirtless like this in his sleeping pants while Harry had gotten completely dressed and was still quite chary to show skin.

And what was the boy thinking having that word _sexy _in his vocabulary?

Harry noticed his ogling and he felt imprudent again for standing there and the next words out of his mouth should have been something about making breakfast but he found his tongue was not compliant with him at the moment.

"I'm sorry for making a mess," Harry signed. "I guess we should just leave the cooking to you or…you could teach me if you want—"

He disregarded such statements and went over to the boy and kissed him and the kiss was deep or deepening but he really couldn't stop himself. He found it difficult to think clearly. Harry, who tried to make him breakfast when that was his idea long before he went to bed last night, Harry, who could look so tempting even when he was covered in flour…

His hands found Harry's cardigan and slipped it off from the boy who was out of breath from their kissing. He let the garment fall, leaning in to kiss Harry again, tasting him, trying to fight down the eager rush that was taking his body hostage. He began to rub over Harry's groin, pleased to find the hardening bulge there. He could feel the boy stiffen at the sudden contact.

He parted from their kissing, his gaze transfixed on the blossom of red in those cheeks and those timid eyes, remembering how they had looked when they decorated that tree together, how Harry never took his eyes off him when he played the piano yesterday evening, how he had let that forsaken comment slip expecting Harry to react regretfully, to look at him with such disappointment but no, Harry had been so kind, accepting and humble.

"Lie down," Severus said, making little effort to stop his voice from sounding heavy with incentive.

Harry did so, moving back along the bed as he came on top of the boy and began to undress him of his shirt and jeans zealously. He wasted little time as he was close to the body underneath him, kissing Harry sincerely and giving much attention to Harry's hardened cock as his hand was under the boy's boxers, massaging the stiff member. Harry's muscles tensed, his legs spreading like the morning before and the boy's hands gripped the sheets with desperation as he was panting already as Severus bit at the boy's neck, finding the two hickeys he left there yesterday.

He stroked the boy's member as Harry let out breathy, silent moans of ravishment. He continued on to lick and nip lightly on Harry's pink nipples.

"Your body's heating up, Harry," Severus said as he moved along the boy's trembling form. "Your skin is so soft." He traced Harry's torso with his left hand, enjoying the way the muscle tightened underneath, quivered there from his touch. "You're so endearing…so lovely like this." He pinched one of the boy's nipples and Harry gasped, eyes fluttering open to stare at him. "So sensitive…aren't you? I can't resist it…" Severus stripped Harry of his boxers and began to fondle the boy's inner thighs as Harry bit his lip. He took the boy's cock in hand, stroked it once before taking it into his mouth. He watched as Harry responded with a sharp gasp, hands grasping at the mass of silk beneath them.

He moved slowly at first, up and down, tantalizing the boy's highly responsive nerves around the head and took him all the way, sucking gradually, finding a good rhythm that had the boy moaning and panting and licking his lips as his mouth was making those slick, wet noises and he hummed, the notion deep in his throat, vibrating against the boy's member.

Harry didn't last long and Severus swallowed down the bitter tasting substance when Harry came, muscles seizing, moaning noiselessly, hips bucking which surprised Severus but pleased him all the more, made his groin tighten at the sight of Harry looking so disheveled, face very flushed and out of breath, chest rising and falling in a hefted cadence. Severus slid off his sleeping pants and grabbed the bottle of lubricant from his dresser drawer and found Harry's stare to make sure he could proceed with what he desired to do.

Harry nodded, looking all the more timid and inviting and Severus, despite his stimulated senses and ready self, took careful minutes in stretching the boy's entrance like he had done before. He went slowly for he knew Harry was most likely sore still and was generous with the amount of lubricant he used. He felt Harry's inner walls, how hot they were and tighter than the first time but he was quick to find that pleasurable spot as he rubbed over Harry's prostate.

He watched Harry's face intently when he entered the boy, mind laden with arousal. His thrusts were slow, gradually moving quicker as he could interpret Harry's expressions when the boy was beginning to feel that heated bliss that he himself was soaking up, focusing on how Harry's eyes would waver closed or how his cock was hard once more and dripping pre-come onto his stomach, how the boy panted, his cheeks scarlet, eyes tearful, giving him such looks when he couldn't help but moan.

Harry came once more when Severus drew close, thrusting upwards to hit that spot that made the boy cry out in pleasure against his lips as he was kissing the boy. He came soon after almost dizzy from the surmounting sensual pleasure that surrounded his member and how tight Harry became when the boy finished. Harry, face sweaty and hair tousled, limbs tired, body falling from that ecstatic, glorious height, was spent underneath him.

After helping the boy shower once more he let Harry rest, naked, as he clothed himself in a dark red dress shirt and black slacks. After putting on socks and his dress shoes, spelling his hair dry and slipping on his overcoat he summoned a house elf, giving it direct orders to retrieve some of Harry's clothes and belongings and to return back here without delay. When the house elf arrived with everything in the bag Severus had supplied it with he sent it on its merry way back to the Hogwarts kitchens to enjoy whatever sort of holiday activities elves got up to.

He placed Harry's bag in his room where the boy had nodded off under the warmth of the duvet. He spent the next moment making breakfast, their first breakfast together, of waffles, eggs, and diced fruit. After the table was set he felt somewhat bad for waking Harry up but the boy seemed to have not been aware of falling asleep, happy the man had made breakfast.

He watched Harry dress in blue boxers, a gray thermal shirt, jeans, and his gray jumper, slipping on his white trainers. Their breakfast was quiet and afterward Harry searched around his bookshelves, making a comment about how he owned lot of muggle titles. He had eyed Harry when the boy came back with the book _Pride and Prejudice_, a book he had read years ago, and sat close to him on the couch. Severus read his own book, reading Harry's choice here and there. Harry seemed to enjoy the story as he got comfortable next to him but after an hour Harry's eyelids were struggling to stay open and he had slumped further down in his seat, resting the back of his head against his chest and after two more pages Harry fell asleep.

He slipped the book carefully from Harry's lap and set it on the coffee table. And, quite unbeknownst to him and much like the first time he had dinner with the boy, he fell asleep as well.

He woke up, rubbing his eyes and stretching his back and realizing the time was one in the afternoon. There was a wool blanket over him and Harry was gone from his side. Before he could get up to find the boy, hoping Harry wasn't attempting to make lunch, the boy came into the room from the kitchen, his strides a bit short, and set down a tray of two cups of iced tea.

"You're awake," Harry signed. "Your kitchen is safe if you were wondering."

Severus smirked and lifted the blanket off of him as Harry sat next to him.

"Thank you," Severus said and picked up his glass. Luckily, he had prepared a batch of iced tea beforehand and all Harry had to do was find the cups and serve it from the pitcher.

The rest of the day had gone peacefully, they had lunch, Severus conquered Harry in chess many times, Harry helped Severus chop up the vegetables to be stir fried to go alongside the roast chicken for dinner and Severus sat with Harry at the piano late into the evening playing a few livelier pieces that had the boy smiling and tapping his foot.

When it was past midnight they dressed for bed and drifted off to sleep, Harry's back against his front as he held the boy close though he stayed up a few minutes after the boy so he could indulge in having Harry in his arms, feeling that warmth, realizing how much he had wanted this, knowing, truly, of the many nights, so many nights where he had been alone with the cold, alone with his thoughts for those mangling insufferable hours…

* * *

Harry sat by the Christmas tree making sure his presents for the man were neatly placed. His festive wrapping paper didn't clash well with the man's more refined tastes in design. The many gifts under the tree that were from the man were all enfolded very precisely in silver and dark blue, the ribbons black. Harry couldn't help but be curious as to which one was his, trying not to sneak a peek at the tags.

Severus entered the sitting room with a mug of hot tea and a copy of the _Daily Prophet, _dressed in a form fitting black dress shirt with steel colored buttons and black slacks. The man smelt of a nice after shave and that exquisite cologne.

"What did you get for Dumbledore?" Harry signed, wondering if the man would tell him.

"I didn't get the Headmaster anything," Severus answered as he sat down in his armchair, setting his black mug on the coffee table. "That's very vivid wrapping paper."

Harry looked at the man, raising an eyebrow.

"Why not?" Harry asked after a moment.

"The Headmaster has the Staff doing secret Santa this year," Severus said. "Professor Dumbledore is quite firm on the rules, he enjoys creativity..."

Harry nodded once, staring up at the man from his sitting position as he supported himself on the balls of his feet, hands on his knees.

"So…who do all these belong to?" Harry asked silently as the man held his gaze.

"They are obviously your presents, Harry," Severus said bluntly and opened the newspaper.

"What?" Harry said mutely, blinking as if he didn't quite understand what the man had said.

Severus turned a page, in search for something worth reading, and looked at him.

"What?" the man said.

"There's a pile of presents here," Harry signed.

"Yes, there is," Severus said.

Harry narrowed his eyes, glancing at the _three _presents he had gotten for the man, and then at all the ones meant for him and he glared at Severus.

"I got carried away…" Severus said after a moment.

Harry let himself fall to sit on his bottom as he was a bit aggravated and wondering if it was possible if he could walk to Hogsmeade to try to get a few more gifts for the man.

"One of those is for McGonagall," Severus said as if it mattered.

Harry felt the heat in his cheeks.

"Is one of them socks?" Harry signed quickly.

"No," Severus said.

Harry gritted his teeth, looking away swiftly.

"Did you get me socks?" Severus said, amusement in that velvet.

"No," Harry signed sharply.

"How about a tie?"

"Of course not," Harry signed.

Severus eyed Harry's presents, examining them.

"Stop trying to guess!" Harry signed.

Severus smirked and continued to read his newspaper.

Harry laid himself out on the couch, staring at his brown boots. He rolled over on his side, staring at the fire. It was already almost two in the afternoon. They had slept in late on that morning of December 23rd and Harry woke up to the man stroking his already erect member and was thoroughly embarrassed when the man had slipped down his sweats and boxers, remarking on how he didn't need to wear pajamas to bed, and then sucked Harry, teasing his erection until Harry was panting, his hips writhing with need and finally the man had taken in Harry fully and caressed his member with that skillful tongue until he was moaning and coming much too quickly…

Harry's eyes wandered to fall on the man who was sitting so casually in his armchair reading the _Prophet_, his dress shoe clad foot resting on his knee. His vision traced the man's leg, starting from his other dress shoe, up the material of those tailored slacks, the hidden knee, the muscle outlined in the man's thigh under that dark black fabric. His heartbeat began to hurry and he pressed his lips together. His lips were buzzing.

Severus always did these things so easily, said Harry was just too tempting even if he would just be doing something so normal like sleeping and here the man was, just sitting and reading; those pitch dark eyes trailing over whatever article. His chest shivered. He could blame it on being sixteen that his member was already half hard in his pants. It wasn't fair how sudden he was to feel this way and maybe it had been because he had held out for all those weeks and they had been pleasuring each other at different points of the day, having sex though they had only done it twice.

Harry got to his feet and, trying to keep his face expressionless (which his blushing cheeks were making very difficult) he moved over to Severus, all those presents for him in his peripherals. He felt like he needed to please the man after knowing such a thing, felt like he shouldn't let the man win every time with everything they did, at cooking, at chess, at Christmas presents, at affectionate gestures, at pleasing each other…

Harry slowly took the paper out of the man's hands and Severus looked up at him as he let the _Daily Prophet _fall along with all its news of tragedy and loss and stories about Harry Potter and if he had cured his muteness yet. Severus raised an eyebrow somewhat and Harry kept his eyes on the man.

Harry took his hoodless bondi blue colored jumper off though he had done it not as smoothly as he imagined it in the little daydream he had before this as the thing got a bit caught around his arms and then his glasses but it came off and he tossed it, on accident, on top of the coffee table where it landed over the man's mug and Severus had to reach out to the steady the cup.

"Keep going," Severus said and the man was smirking, his hands resting on the chair's arms, staring up at him and the way the jumper had messed up his hair.

Harry, his cheeks burning and feeling quite breathless and holding on to his clumsy confidence, ran a hand through his hair and came close to the chair and tried, like in his daydream, to knock the man's resting dress shoe from his knee but he just sort of picked it up and let it fall and Severus, still smirking, almost smiling, straightened himself in the armchair, his back no longer reclined, chin resting on his right fist.

Harry, still trying to keep his face composed and attempting, like in the daydream, to give the man an alluring look and then, like in the daydream that was making him feel a bit foolish now, Harry took off his glasses and managed the fluid-like motion that he had achieved in his daydream (though his hair had looked nice and smoothed back like at the dance and not messy) but his nervous hand dropped them. He ignored the clatter they made and kept his eyes on Severus's endearing black orbs.

Harry licked his lips, more timidly then in the daydream but he kept his face, sort of, in that set poise and enticement and then he was climbing, not as easily as he had done in the fantasy, on top of the man's lap. His shoe got stuck but he recovered and he stared down at the man's face whose eyes held amusement and that real alluringness that Harry couldn't quite manage. He could feel his body trembling but he paid no attention to it or to his pounding heart.

Harry, finding the man's collar with a tiny bit of difficulty because of the slight blurriness, began to undo the man's buttons. Severus's eyes looked up and down his body and Harry, who was positioned on his knees that were set on either side of the man's outer thighs and his back straight, was happy that he had worn dark jeans that were a tad tighter than his usual pairs. They flattered the contours of his hips, his thin waist, and hugged the muscle in his thighs and legs.

"You're handsome," Harry whispered soundlessly. In the daydream of course he could speak but he didn't let that hinder his focus. Severus was silent, just gazing up at him with his refined self. Harry could feel the arousal that was hot in his stomach; it tickled his chest, tingled over his skin. He unbuttoned the man's shirt enough to be able to plant soft kisses along his neck.

Severus raised his chin to expose more of his neck as Harry kissed, his hands over the man's thighs, and he sucked lightly, biting gently, his breath caressing the man's skin. Harry glided his hands over the man's thighs and up his torso and he began to kiss Severus's lips, dipping his tongue into that mouth, his eyes closed. He could feel the man's hard nipple through his shirt, he rubbed over it with his fingertips despite the embarrassment that was weighted over him. He moved on to the man's earlobe in which he bit and traced it with his tongue. He supposed how aroused he felt was letting him be this provocative with the man.

His right hand slipped down to fall over the man's groin where his confidence grew because the man's growing erection was stiff underneath his palm. He massaged it, up and down slowly as Severus's breaths had quickened justly. And he was surprised at how deeply he was kissing the man next, almost hungrily as he rubbed the man's hard member and his inner thigh, the touch of that fabric making him hard as well.

"I want to see you on your knees," Severus whispered when Harry parted from their kissing and was about to give the man's neck more attention.

Harry's cheeks seared with heat at those words. Harry stared at Severus, his hand still over the man's member, and he had to concentrate as to not let those words control him like they always did.

"Did you miss it?" Harry said soundlessly and he bit his lip and he could feel the man's member react to it.

"Miss what? Be specific, Harry," the man said, that appealing serene look so possessed in the man's features; those richly black eyes in contrast with the man's pale skin. Harry's heart drummed away but he persevered, kept his self-control, eyes unblinking as he said the noiseless words:

"When I go down on you, the sight of me on my knees, looking up at you."

And Severus, with his collar open and eyes so captivating, body so strong underneath him said with such ease, that velvet voice much too casual, too charming, too daring:

"You mean the sight of you being so entirely submissive, cheeks so red I can't stand it, and you appearing _so_ embarrassed combined with the image of your attractive mouth around my c—"

Harry had covered the man's mouth with his hand, head bowed to hide his glowing face, his ears aflame. He felt dizzy because of those rousing words but he would not be able to continue what he wanted to do if Severus had finished that last word.

Severus was smirking under his hand and he took it away, trying to breathe as his eyes rose to look into the man's. Severus enjoyed doing this, he knew that.

Harry could only nod, all those shy emotions throttling his confidence and he was a bit angry at the man for wanting to chase it away. Perhaps Severus didn't like losing; of _course _Severus didn't like losing.

"I want it," Severus said. "I want to see it. You should already know that, Harry. You should already know how desirable you are."

Harry, mind back to his daydream, moved as carefully as he could off of the man's lap, making sure to glide his hands across Severus's thighs and keep them over the man's knees as he settled himself on his own knees but the newspaper was there making a distracting crumpling noise. Harry got the paper out from under him and, with burning cheeks, began to unbutton the man's slacks. He doubted he could do it with his teeth like he had done in the daydream so he wouldn't make an attempt of it, perhaps another time…

Harry pulled the zipper down, spreading the man's thighs as he pushed against them and Severus complied and slipped his pants down and the man's lengthy erection was free, slightly intimidating Harry but he set to fulfill the rest of his daydream. He licked along the shaft to the head as he held the man's member with his right hand, stroking it as well. He could feel Severus's gaze on him, liked the hiss of breath the man let out when his tongue pressed against the bundle of nerves that the man himself was so good at teasing. But Harry had been learning, was good at copying Severus no matter if his results were lacking in confidence and somewhat clumsy.

He took the man's length as far as he could, remembering how he had done it before, making sure to breathe in through his nose. Slowly, he began to suck and stroke the man with his mouth, feeling the heat of Severus's cock. Severus let out a weighted, pleasurable breath.

His own erect member was feeling such pleasurable sensations as he sped up the movement. It rubbed against the tight constriction of his jeans over his cotton boxers as his head bobbed back and forth, his mouth slick against the man's erection, lathered with saliva.

His eyes were polished with arousal and desire when they looked up at Severus. He took the man deeper, his eyes tearing up, and worked his tongue to slide against the shaft, up and down, quick with that hunger as he stared at Severus's chest, muscles so noticeable underneath the expensive material. He was lovely, the sight of him from down here on his knees. Was he too young to think this way? He didn't know. Had he looked silly trying to be seductive for the man? He didn't know. But he loved this man, loved being this way with him, unafraid and yet afraid, shy yet confident, lustful and loving, it was wonderful.

"Harry…" Severus let out, his voice raspy with arousal.

And that hand came into his hair, tangling in his locks. Then the man leaned back, hands resting on the chair's arms. That composure was being bated with the pleasure Harry was giving the man's body. He tried to undo it completely, staring profoundly in Severus's now glossy black pools. He brushed his hand against the man's genitals, Severus let out a hissing breath, Harry sucked a bit harder, he heard the man surrender a moan, deep from his throat. Muscles were tightening, there was color in Severus's face, he looked so attractive to Harry.

His lips were buzzing, his jaw a bit sore, feeling lightheaded and Severus's breath was labored, his eyes closing, taking a long time to open again, that black swimming with that greedy luster.

"Harry…" that velvet was so hushed with pleasure. "Yes…Just like that…Harry…"

Harry kept his pace though he was breathless.

"Look at me…" Severus said. The man's hands were holding tight to the chair's arms now. "Harry…" He saw those eyes close shut, saw the man's jaw clench, heard the breathy moan that had his own erection pleading to be touched, and Severus finished, the man's come spilling against the back of his throat and Harry was swallowing the just salty taste, sucking and feeling that body tense, the breath shudder, the hand returning to his hair and Harry released Severus's satisfied member.

Severus was looking at him, at his tearful eyes, his crimson cheeks, tousled hair, with that love, that love Harry always saw now and all too abruptly before Harry could indulge in the scene, Severus had composed himself again, his breathing calm and he had taken out his wand to cast a cleaning spell over himself and did up his slacks.

Harry wiped his lips, very aware of his erection that was being persistent, not sure if he should wait to stand…

"Stand up," Severus said, straightening himself in the armchair again.

Harry, hesitant, stood on shaky legs. He was embarrassed at the bulge in his jeans. Severus's eyes glanced at it.

"Take your shirt off," the man said and those eyes looked hungry.

"I…You don't need…" Harry began, not really up to having his bones feel like they were powder because of that silky voice. He was still feeling defensive against the man always easing his way into these certain victories he had over him.

"Harry," Severus said, eyes deeply entrancing, "It's what I want. I have to make the score even."

_But you're already winning by two, _Harry thought quickly as he did the math in his head.

"Take it off," Severus said.

Harry complied, giving in to the need in his trousers, and slipped off his black cotton shirt. He placed it on top of his jumper. He shivered as his bare upper body was exposed to the chill in the air regardless of the fire.

"And your jeans," the man said.

Harry bit his lip as he bent down and untied his boots and toed them off, trying to keep his balance and then undid his jeans, pulling down the zipper. He slowed his movement when he slipped off the jeans, mostly because he was afraid of falling over, and his socks came off with them. He stood in just his dark blue boxers and his necklace from Prague and waited.

"Come here," Severus said.

Harry did so with tentative steps. Severus reached out with his right hand and took hold of Harry's wrist and with a swift movement he was spun around, hands grabbed his waist and he was pulled to sit on the man's lap, his back resting against Severus's front. Harry's skin shivered once more. He smelt the man's cologne, felt his body heat. The man didn't waste time as he spread Harry's legs. Harry held his breath as those skillful hands glided over his thighs from his knees.

"Look what you did to yourself," Severus whispered with that lusty velvet skating across his ear. The back of his neck tingled. Severus tugged down his boxers enough so that his erect member was free. Severus's fingertips brushed over his waistline and seemed to dance over his torso. Harry let out a breath. Severus kissed the back of his neck and then his ear. He felt Severus's fingertip circle around his nipple, rubbing over it, pinching it.

A hand traveled down to his thigh again, caressing the skin, moving inwardly, brushing against his genitals and Harry gasped, thinking Severus would touch his aching member but the man only continued to feel up his chest, his lips now sucking hard over his neck, sending sparks of arousal straight to his cock and it twitched and he moaned as those lips were sucking. Those strong hands massaged his inner thighs, coaxing his arousal further until his muscles were tense with it, until his own hands were struggling against taking his erection.

"So eager," Severus whispered.

That voice was like honey and it sedated his train of thought so easily, made his thoughts disappear completely. He tried not to move as he was seated on the man's lap, feeling the muscles of the man's thighs under his, feeling his heartbeat against his back.

"I love you," the man said, those lips moving next to his ear.

Harry let out a soft, noiseless moan when the man's right hand took his member. Those slender fingers worked over those extremely responsive nerves around the head and Harry watched the clear substance weep from his cock and Severus's hand began to stroke him. He shut his eyes tightly, his cheeks aflame, letting his head fall back on a strong shoulder, letting his body be lost in the pleasuring sensations the man's heated hand was generously giving him. It was slow, the speed only hastening justly but he was already close, his breaths coming out in pants. He opened his eyes and watched the blurred image of the man's hand surrounding his erect member. His abdomen tensed, his back arched, his toes curled, and he was coming, gasping and clutching at the man's pant legs.

His come spattered against his stomach and chest, the last weak spurts fell onto the chair's cushion between the man's legs. Harry, feeling lightheaded, muscles shuddering through the last waves of his completion, stayed still as Severus kissed the back of his neck.

The man took up his wand with his left hand and Harry was cleaned of the lucid substance and so was the chair and the man's hand. Harry lifted his boxers and the man helped him stand. The newspaper was folded and set on the coffee table with another flick of Severus's wand and then it was put away. Severus stood, fixing his dress shirt.

"Get dressed, we're going out today," Severus said and handed Harry his glasses. He put them on and grabbed up his shirt.

"Really? Where?" Harry signed.

"Not telling," Severus said and he was gone down the hall.

Harry, with many questions coming to mind, got dressed and hurried down the hall and found Severus in the restroom putting on his overcoat and taking out his wand. Harry stepped inside to brush his teeth. Severus was staring intently at his reflection and looked to be thinking.

"Is it safe to leave?" Harry signed after he was done.

"As long as we take the necessary precautions it will be," Severus answered. "I much rather prefer not using Polyjuice."

Harry watched, curiously, as Severus pointed his wand at his face.

His eyes broadened when the man's hair was suddenly a different color, a dark brown like his own and so suddenly did the length change and was shorter, like Professor Royle's hair. The man stared firm into the mirror, his eyes unblinking and they began to lighten and Harry watched as the color settled into a nice shade of auburn. Harry was impressed and stunned with Severus's Human Transfiguration skills. The man's cheekbones were lowered a bit, the hue in his lips was darkened slightly, his jaw less pronounced, the length of his nose shortening.

When this new looking Severus turned to face him Harry felt a little nervous.

"I know it is difficult to get used to but I really want to take you out, Harry," Severus said. "To get away from the school for a while…"

Harry, staring into those changed eyes, could still find the same emotions in them if he looked hard enough and persuaded by the sound of the man's voice Harry nodded and was suddenly excited to venture off to whatever place the man had in mind.

"Your turn," Severus said and he was made to face the man. "Keep your eyes open and stay perfectly still for me."

Harry did so and also held his breath, afraid of the horrible ways that Human Transfiguration could go wrong like Hermione had said to him all that time ago but he was in very capable hands. After long moments and a tingling sensation in his face the man told him to look at himself in the mirror.

Harry turned, surprised at who stared back. His face didn't look anything like himself. His eyes were a light hazel behind his glasses, his hair that soft brown color just like Hermione's and a tad longer, his eyebrows even matched the shade and his scar was gone, a strong glamour hiding it. His lips were lighter, his cheeks bones higher. It was very strange indeed.

He turned and noticed the man was looking over him. His expression was very neutral.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Harry signed as he gave the man a smile.

"Yes it is but it'll only be for a few hours," Severus said. "Make sure you have your cloak and wand." He left his bedroom and Harry, feeling anxious, rushed to retrieve his Invisibility Cloak from his bag and followed the man though it was definitely bizarre to stare at the back of his head with Severus's new look. Harry's hair felt strange to him as well. They dressed in their winter coats and scarves and gloves at the door.

"Will anyone search for me?" Harry signed.

"Not likely," Severus said lightly. "It will be fine. Put your cloak on."

Harry did so and he watched Severus put the Disillusionment Charm over him and could hardly see the chameleon-like outline of the man's body.

"We will walk to the gates like last time," Severus instructed. "From there we will Apparate. I'll walk behind you."

Harry turned to look at their Christmas tree one last time before turning and leaving the man's quarters. They walked through Severus's office and made their way out of the dungeons; all the while Harry could faintly hear the man's light footsteps. Harry was met the wintry afternoon when they walked out of the castle's entrance. The sky was a swirl of graying and darkening clouds and the air was frozen. Harry walked through the snow pact grounds with Severus trailing behind. He looked around and saw their trail of footprints vanishing. That was a quite useful and covert spell, Harry thought.

When they reached the gates Harry was told to take the Cloak off so he did and pocketed it. Severus reappeared and Harry had to stop himself from being surprised at the man. He wasn't used to the man looking like this and he thought secretly in fact that the man's real face was a lot better looking…

Severus took his hand and Harry relaxed and then they were gone.

When Harry's feet touched ground he realized they had apparated in a small alleyway with brick buildings on either side of them, the space quite cramped. He heard people however; cheerful people and the sound of cars and his heart sped up instantly.

"Wait here for a moment," Severus said and he left Harry in the alleyway as the man walked out onto the sidewalk path and was gone from Harry's line of vision as the man had turned. Before he began to worry Severus returned after a few moments.

"Come," Severus said and Harry kept up with the man's long strides. When they reached the avenue Harry's eyes lit up at the sight of all the Christmas decorations that adorned the muggle streets of London. He immediately recognized the familiar buildings even though they looked different now that it wasn't summer but Christmastime. And he could see, down the block a little ways, the memorable overhang that was above the doors of his favorite restaurant, The Fish Bowl.

Harry's heart was overjoyed and his eyes stung as remembered summer and their booth and everything that had been so special to him during those Wednesday lunches.

"Hungry?" Severus said softly as he looked down upon Harry's smiling face.

"Starved," Harry said soundlessly.

And they walked through the bustling crowds of people all bundled up and moving from shop to shop doing their last minute Christmas purchases. Everyone looked so happy, the holiday spirit hovering over their heads. His eyes followed the fairy lights that hung across the buildings and the street, saw the gleam of cars, smelt the city air, took in the sight of the warm shops all decorated for the Yuletide; he heard music, Christmas carols, he smelt cinnamon and flowers as they passed a shop, smelt cookies as they passed a bakery. He watched the people go by, listened to the sounds of their footsteps, many eyes catching his.

They walked together, side by side, close and he could see, even with the disguise, Severus here with him, tall and composed. It was enchanting. Harry's breath of steam rushed through the air as he laughed, his gloved hands in his coat pockets. He felt love all around him, saw the many couples that held on to each other or held hands or had their arms linked, saw the joy and richness of this lively place. It had snowed here of course, the streets had been paved but he could see the white packed in the corners, piled on the buildings. It was so cold but he couldn't believe how happy he felt.

He saw the doors, how bright the place was inside, the guests within all seated in those black and white booths, the waiters and waitresses looking busy but cheerful. Their booth by the large window was empty as if waiting for the two of them.

Severus opened the door for him and Harry stepped inside where the hostess greeted them with a large smile. Harry, to his sudden relief and with a pinch in his heart, found the fish bowl and its clear water and red pebbles and saw, swimming together, the little black fish and the little white fish. He remembered of course that this wasn't the white fish he had seen before but its replacement but the scene of it, this image, was so enduring in his memory and to see it again, four months later, that this place was still here, real and existing and lasting; he didn't know why he felt so overwhelmed.

They sat at their booth and took off their coats, scarves, and gloves. Harry could feel his very skin remembering this place, even the feel of his seat, the table. His eyes looked out the window onto the street and the lights and busy people and the snow. It was warm in here. He could hear the soft music playing and his nose was reminded of the restaurant smelt; delicious. There were decorations; white glittery garland and fairy lights, miniature wreaths hung up by every booth and Harry had noticed the small Christmas tree next to the fish bowl.

"Are you happy?" Severus said quietly.

"Of course," Harry said mutely, smiling.

"What would you like to eat?" the man asked.

"Whatever you want, surprise me," Harry said soundlessly. He doubted anyone could tell he wasn't actually talking out loud what for the abundant chatter about the place. The Fish Bowl was busy. A waitress came up to their table, breathless and smiling.

"Sorry for the wait you two," the girl said. It wasn't Kim much to Harry's discontent but the girl looked just as bubbly, just as kindhearted. She was short, her hazel eyes much like Harry's own and her shoulder length hair was black. Pinned to her uniform above her nametag that read "Elizabeth" was a small peculiar looking reindeer brooch whose nose was blinking. "Today's been so busy; it gets so hectic around the holiday. Have you been here before?"

"Yes," Severus said as he looked at the girl. "We're quite familiar with the menu."

"Oh, smashing," Elizabeth said and she smiled and laughed a bit. She seemed somewhat hyper. "Won't be needing these then." She was holding the menu booklets in her hands. "That was a joke. You can have them if you want."

"No, I believe we are ready to order," Severus said, eyeing the odd girl.

"Ok, let me just…" She was searching for something in her waist apron's pockets. She blushed. She laughed nervously. "I'm sorry, I will be right back."

Harry watched the girl hurry off to the back of the restaurant, almost tripping as she did.

"She's a bit…" Harry began as he faced the man.

"Like you," Severus finished and he was smirking.

"No she's not," Harry mouthed.

"Yes, she is," the man said with affirmation. "Clumsy, forgetful, goofy."

"Goofy?" Harry almost signed but kept his hands over his lap.

"What?" Severus said looking as if he were about to laugh.

"I'm not goofy," Harry said, leaning in over the table.

"You can be quite goofy."

"Well you're—"

Elizabeth had returned, out of breath and smiling again with her black leather notepad presented before her.

"Sorry again, misplaced it," she said. "Ok, now what can I get the two of you?" She eyed Harry and Harry studied her, trying to see exactly how she was like him. She bit her lip as if nervous at his intent staring.

"We would both like the braised lamb shanks," Severus interrupted their staring match.

"Oh! That's our chef's second favorite, you know," Elizabeth announced as she opened her booklet and, looking somewhat confused and then relieved as she found the shiny red pen behind her left ear. "Thought I'd lost that," she muttered as she was writing down their order and she was blushing again.

Harry could feel Severus smirking at him.

"And what would you like for your entrees?" Elizabeth asked.

"Green salads with vinaigrette dressing," Severus answered.

"Ok, and for the drinks?" she said.

"An iced tea and a Coca-Cola," the man said.

"Right, your salads and drinks will be out in a moment," Elizabeth said happily, smiling big at Harry before she hurried off again and Harry watched her drop her pen and bend down and pick it up.

Harry turned to see Severus with his dark brown short locks now and auburn eyes but the amusement in them wasn't hard to find.

"I don't see it," Harry said mutely.

"And what remark were you about to make considering me?" Severus said.

Harry thought for a moment but he couldn't remember what it had been.

"Forgetful," Severus repeated.

Harry narrowed his eyes but smiled.

Elizabeth arrived with the tray carrying their salads and drinks and barely missing a collision with another waitress reached their table and set it down with shaking hands.

"Safe," she said under her breath. She set out their silverware and served them their salads and beverages. "There we go. I hope you enjoy." She left them and this time made it to the back without any mishaps.

They ate quietly and Harry found himself savoring the meal even when their main course arrived as another waiter helped Elizabeth carry the plates out. The food was delectable as always and Harry was pleased with Severus's choice. And when their dessert was finished and the restaurant was still bustling about, the talk around them loud and merry, Harry stared out the window for a long moment, trying to savor the last few minutes of their stay.

_This was where our love began._

The words drifted into his mind like a fleeting gust of wind. Of course he hadn't been in love with the man here in the summer but it was the makings of love that had been happening between them, they had got to know each other in this place, realizing just how much there was to know and if there had been fear at the start, if he had been terrified at the start, he was happy that he hadn't given up, that Severus hadn't given up, had wanted this, had thought Harry belonged at his side, in his heart.

He let his eyes wander, took in the brilliance of how perfect this place seemed; resting his chin on his palm he watched the people; families, couples, attachment, smiles, warmth, humor, all these lovely things that were so common and yet they seemed so special, what life was all about really he thought, all circling here, in The Fish Bowl…

Would he always have this?

"Elbows."

Harry heard Severus's voice and he looked to the man and took his elbows off the table and smiled and laughed, his heart feeling much too heavy in his chest. He watched Severus pay, watched how flustered Elizabeth became when the man put in far too much money into the bill folder. Harry gave the girl a wave as Severus bid the girl a good evening and they left, Harry taking a moment in the small lobby where there were a few people waiting to be seated. He watched the fish, the little bubbles they made and silently thanked them as he felt happy and sad at the same time.

Outside it was growing dark and Harry had thought they would leave but Severus said they should walk around so they did. It started to snow. They explored several shops, Harry's eyes going every which way to take in the sights; they went into a music store, an antique store, a large clothing store and all the while Harry wished he had exchanged his wizard money into muggle currency so he could have picked out a few more presents for Severus who looked to be having a good time especially when they spent a good amount of that time in a book store.

Once again he was caught up in how surreal it all was. He didn't take Severus to be the sort of man to enjoy a walk in the city but then again he was still learning new things about the man every day. But of course he liked reading, _a lot_, and by now he could take a fair guess that the man would read anything if it intrigued him; he thought this as Severus paid for a few heavy looking novels. He could picture in his head the very diverse books that were settled in the man's bookcases. He had asked Harry if he'd seen anything he liked but Harry had not in fear of choosing a book that Severus would find silly.

Honestly, Harry just enjoyed the sight of the man searching through the bookshelves knowing full well this was a muggle bookstore in London.

Afterward, when it was dark out and snowing lightly, they had walked to the river. There wasn't anyone around where they were despite the cars passing by behind them.

It was magnificent just to stand with Severus like they were and watch the snow fall upon the freezing water, how the lights of the buildings across lit up the surface. The stillness of it, the gentleness of it, made him want to stand here next to Severus for as long as he could no matter how cold it was, no matter if they didn't look like themselves. He didn't want to care for the evil things that existed in the world. He wanted this, just this; the steam of their breath racing through the air, how numb their noses felt, how bright their eyes seemed to shine here, how much of this love he could feel while he looked up at the darkness in the sky to watch the snowflakes rushing down at him. These were the memories they shared.

Would they be able to look back some day? Would they? Five years from now? Ten? Twenty? Would it last? Would these memories last? Or would they fade, like all memories did, not shining so bright in one's mind, that blackness framing around the edges. He wanted so much time but there was fear bristling in his heart; fear that he wouldn't survive this war, this silent, mysterious, wicked war. But fear was good, he supposed, fear meant that you had things worth fighting for, things you didn't want to lose. How could he ever lose this?

"I want to take you everywhere," he heard Severus say too softly. Harry turned to stare at the man's face, those auburn eyes looking lost in thought as if only half focused on the scenery before them, almost sorrowful. "We could go anywhere…" The man continued to stare forward and Harry stayed completely still. He sounded as if these words were just coming to light, gripping him inside, as if they couldn't be silent anymore.

"I don't want to spend my life…wasting it away like I did…" The man let out a breath. "We could live together…someday, somewhere out of the way…quiet…A house with big windows…We could listen to the rain…take long walks…do anything…"

And those eyes found his and Harry couldn't really breathe. "The world I lived in…I filled with empty things…It was what I deserved…It was my fault…And then I saw you and all those empty things meant something to you…weren't so worthless to you…and I wanted to take a chance for once in my life…I didn't want to be that man anymore…I was tired…I wanted to start over somehow…be like you and…not only protect you but live for you…It tore me apart at first…to know that…I hated it, naturally…tried to generalize it and study it all I could…But the truth was always there, that we could do this and try for these things…and what I knew before, what I was before, what I am, it didn't matter to you..." Severus stepped closer to him for they had been paces apart. Harry's hands let go of the railing and he faced the man.

"These dark things…I thought they would break your heart…But you have endured me all this time…" Those eyes held tears in them, the velvet voice sounding strained, breathy, without that composure. "I know we are different…I'm much older, I _know_ that…I know people may never understand it…what we do for each other…But that doesn't matter to me…and I am afraid, of time...and your kindness and of losing you and if I'll be enough for you…with these twenty years set between us...I won't hide it from you…I won't deny the undeniable truth that you are everything to me…" He wiped the tears that had fallen and those strong hands fell atop his head, fingers in his hair, eyes holding a sort of grace in them, that quiet desperation and that love, the love they had been allowed to create.

"You woke me up…" Harry stared up at Severus's face that held too many emotions all trying to express themselves at once. "I want to wake up to you forever…" These professed words made his heart much too vigorous.

Harry, with his own eyes brimming with cold tears but doing his best to keep his own composure, took a breath.

"Shall we go? You're shivering like mad and I really want to make love to you," Severus said quickly.

Harry smiled, his cheeks red. He nodded. They walked together and Harry watched their footsteps and kept up with the man's long strides. They entered the alleyway unnoticed and Severus took Harry's hand and they vanished.

* * *

A bit of relief washed through him when his blue eyes were behind his circular glasses once again. Harry was happy to have his normal face back and to see Severus looking like Severus again. The man had been silent throughout the walk across the grounds. Harry stood in the guest restroom as he had finished washing his hands. He went into the man's bedroom and heard the bath running.

It was well past 8 o'clock. He saw Severus, shirtless and barefooted standing by the large marble tub. Harry couldn't help but let his eyes follow up the curve of the man's back, how straight it was, how tall that body was and he found his vision lingering over the man's biceps as he had leaned down to feel the temperature of the bubbly water.

Severus's straightened himself and his head turned to face Harry. Harry saw that craving gleam of light, a slit in that deep black.

"Come," Severus said.

Harry ignored the heat in his face and made his weakened legs move forward. Severus's hand reached out and he pulled Harry by the wrist, holding him close against his body. The man bent down and kissed him tenderly. Harry's hands placed themselves over the man's torso. They parted and Severus began to undress him, taking off his jumper and shirt in one go and then undid his jeans. He stopped there and Harry watched Severus strip himself of his slacks and boxers and then step naked into the fine tub that was filled already, the water bubbly, the scent nice.

Harry eyed the man who was settled in the bath, black eyes following up and down his form. There was plenty of room for him but he was embarrassed. Nonetheless he pulled down his jeans and boxers somewhat clumsily and stepped into the bath, the hot water easing the iciness in his feet. He sat down, the water rippled gently, and his back rested against the other side of the tub. He could feel his legs brush against the man's own.

"Your glasses are fogging," Severus said lightly.

Harry had forgotten to take them off and did so quickly and put them on the stool on top of the folded towels. Harry brought his knees up slightly, the bottoms of his feet feeling the smooth surface of the marble tub. He was trying not to smile.

"What's funny?" the man asked.

"You…and bubbles," Harry said soundlessly and grinned, raising his eyebrows.

Severus smirked, shaking his head justly.

Harry gathered some of the white foam and blew at the bubbles and they rushed through the air and descended slowly down, a few landing in the man's hair. Harry started to laugh. He leaned back, dunking his hair and face and sat up again, still grinning at Severus.

"Come here," Severus said.

Harry moved forward, settling himself on his knees as he was close to the man now, in-between his spread legs. He watched the rippling bath water caress the man's skin, eyeing the man's nipples for a moment and wet chest and the way his arms rested outside the tub in almost a relaxing way, Severus's shoulders defined in this position.

"Thank you," Harry mouthed, "for taking me there again…and for saying what you said…"

He felt a hand smooth back his wet hair. He listened to the soft drips of water that fell from his body and the man's hand. Those obsidian eyes and dark locks were quite distinctive against the white and black marble of the tub. Severus's hand slid down his wet back and lower, much lower till it was under water, rubbing his arse. Harry's skin shivered, his cheeks burning, his member hardening.

"You're stunning," Severus whispered.

Harry felt the man's hand moving, gasped when he felt the man's finger began to rub circles over his entrance. Harry's erection was fully hard now as were his nipples that reacted to the cold air. The heat of the bath was making him dizzy and Severus's eyes were so enticing. The tip of the man's index finger slid up his length under the water.

"You're so hard already," those velvety words sent such pleasurable sparks throughout his senses. He didn't like how quickly he could be this turned on and blamed it once more on his age.

That finger over his entrance was rubbing still, massaging the ring of muscle there and Harry let out a breathy silent moan, his eyes growing heavy with desire, his muscles tensing. It must have been the hot water and the scent of it, everything was so relaxing, he could feel it almost all the way to his bones.

"So sensitive," Severus said. "Touch it, feel how hard you are."

Harry, with flushed cheeks, bit his lip and hesitated but his right hand seemed to have a mind of its own, controlled by those silk enriched words. He felt his member, his touch alone making him want to sigh in pleasure, he could feel the urge of it in his throat and knowing Severus could see him it suddenly made the situation all the more sensual.

And he felt Severus ease a finger inside of him, slowly.

Harry gasped, his hand wrapped around his member twitched.

"Relax," Severus said. "Touch yourself, feel how good it is."

Harry, his body trembling as the finger inside him began to move, in and out, was hesitant about doing it.

"Go on," Severus coaxed almost lazily. "I want to watch."

Harry licked his lips nervously. A lot of the bubbles had drifted to the sides of the tub giving the man a good view of his hand holding his erect cock underneath the hot water.

"You don't usually do it right?" Severus went on, the words playing off his tongue, that finger stroking him inside with such slow, teasing movements, pressing up against his prostate. Harry shook his head, his erection pained him. "Then try it while I finger you."

Harry, embarrassed beyond anything but also aroused beyond anything began to stroke himself, feeling a bit angry at himself for letting those words rule over him like this. He had only done it once but he knew how the man had rubbed him, knew all the places he liked to be touched.

He stroked his erection as the slender finger probed him inside; slippery and hot, brushing against the blissful spot which made his hand move quicker, his fingertips rubbing the bundle of nerves around the head. He could already feel himself reaching that peak as he panted, the water rippling around him, Severus's finger inside, rubbing continuously over that spot making his mind numb, his eyes flutter closed, his hand working clumsily over his member, feeling a bit ashamed at his lack of self-control once more.

He came, leaning forward as his back arched and his breath hitched. He stroked himself through the crashing waves of heated pleasure that coursed through him, his heart shuddering, his brain so fogged with arousal. The finger slipped out from his entrance. Harry's limbs felt weighted down but he kept himself up, his eyes meeting those black pools that looked greedy.

As the bath drained they showered, well Harry stood while the man washed him. Harry had seen the man's lengthy erection when they got out of the tub. He knew Severus wanted to make love. After they dried off mostly they walked, nude, into the bedroom. Severus pushed him down gently on the bed and got on top of him, kissing him deeply as those hands felt up his body everywhere.

"So soft," Severus whispered as fingertips trailed across his thigh.

Harry felt himself trembling, lightheaded from the hot bath and shower but still his skin felt the pleasure of the man's hands as if the energy from Severus's limbs transferred onto him, sensual and passionate and enthralling and he could imagine the man's face as they stood beside the river, the city life surrounding them, he could picture all of those emotions in Severus's real face, the warm tears lighting up that midnight black like the stars did. Severus had felt all of that, had gotten just as mixed up with all those vexing sentiments that forced their way into Harry's heart all the time. It had been too much to see the man like that…

"Lay on your front," those lips whispered against his lips.

Harry did so and felt the cool silken sheets tickle his oversensitive skin. His skin did feel hyperactive to the man's touch for whatever reason. Severus was over him, leaning in to plant kisses all along his back.

"On your knees," the man said.

Harry, his cheeks reddening, raised himself on his knees and elbows slowly. Those fingers traced over the arch in his back sending delicate electrified sparks through his spine. Severus's hands were over his arse, feeling it up as Harry's face felt such unbearable heat. This was a new position and he couldn't help the soft timid trembling of his legs. He heard the sound of the bottle of lubricant opening and he felt breathless.

He shut his eyes as a slick finger pushed slowly into his entrance. There was pain however and Harry flinched.

"Relax, Harry," Severus said gently.

The finger was unmoving within and Harry let himself breathe, trying to loosen his muscles to feel the slick finger inside. The slight pain ebbed away after a moment and the appendage began to stroke his inner walls. Harry let out a short gasp as it brushed over that certain spot and he could feel his flaccid member reacting to his prostate getting another dose of attention that night.

After a moment Harry bit his lip when two fingers were inserted inside. It stung a bit and Harry clutched the sheets, letting his head lay down upon one of the pillows. His heart was racing. He guessed it was just because of this position and he really couldn't see the man's face but didn't want to because of how embarrassed he was, his face so hot now that he could feel the perspiration on his forehead. The lubricant was warming up, slick as those fingers were moving in scissoring motions, stretching him.

Harry breaths were coming out heavier and soon three fingers were readying him though the minor pain was distracting him, he wondered if it was because he was tighter inside in this position with his back arched, knees pressed into the bed as the man probed him with those tantalizing movements. His member was stirring however, the arousal seeping through the anxiety he was under and numbing it. He had to remember that Severus hadn't been satisfied, that the man desired him like this, that he was being patient…

Those fingers slipped out and he waited until he felt the man's cock easing its way inside of him.

Severus let out a hissing breath as the man's lengthy, thick member was pushing inside of his arse and Harry took in a sharp breath, his back arching further, his muscles tightening. He didn't know why but the sensation of Severus's erection entering him was stronger than before, he could feel it more this time, felt it go deeper within him, he felt fuller, could feel the searing heat and the just pain that pulsed around his wet inner walls.

Severus grunted when he was finally all the way in and Harry, his body shivering a bit with how deep he could feel the man, was scared to move. Severus's hands took hold of his waist however and Harry felt the man's hard cock slip out and enter him again without hesitation. Harry gasped, biting his lip, clutching the sheets, shutting his eyes forcefully.

"So tight," Severus said in a hushed tone. "I can feel you throb around me…"

Harry couldn't take the scorching heat in his face or how dizzy he felt or how his own member was fully erect now. It was starting to feel good as his walls were stretched and conforming to the man's lengthy member.

And Severus began to move; holding Harry's hips as he slowly rocked his own hips to push in and out of Harry's hole. Harry could feel the lubricant smeared on his thighs, could feel how slick it was, how full he felt inside, how whole when the man would enter him deeper. Severus's breath was growing more sporadic, his thrusts a bit harder and faster and Harry knew he was biting back those moans that he was now letting out without restraint however silent they were.

And the noises, he could hardly take them, the slipping sound of the man's cock thrusting inside of him, of Severus's skin connecting, his pelvis slapping against his backside.

Harry's shaky vision found the man as he turned his head enough to see, to see the intense arousal besieged in those black eyes that were half open, face sweaty and almost flushed; it was so obvious that the man was holding back his want to just thrust as fast as he could to find that sweet rhythm and come with that speed but Severus, breathing hard, looked at him and this hips slowed and Harry's eyes widened when Severus pulled him back, his back arching deeper into the curve, hands tugging at the sheets as he felt pressure inside of him for Severus had leaned over his body, his weight somewhat upon him. He stared at the man's left hand that was pressed into the bed inches away from his face, felt his body push forward and move back along with the man's rocking hips and slow thrusts.

Severus's free hand was over Harry's chest now, pinching his nipple and sliding those fingertips up and down his torso and he gasped when the man's hot, large hand took hold of his neglected member.

"You feel too good, Harry…" Severus said in a voice hefty with arousal. "I'm deep inside…You can feel me…filling you up…" Harry moaned against the silk sheets as that hand stroked him, his cock dripping with the lucid substance, coating the fingers with it. "Look at you…so spent…coming so undone…so able to take me in like this…over and over…" Severus let out a breathy moan. "I want to come already…you look so ravishing…lovely…" Severus had leaned closer over Harry and he felt the man's heated chest over his back. Those lips kissed his shoulder, biting gently and sucking as the man stroked him and rocked his hips, thrusting faster.

It was too hot, he felt so faint with the pleasure he was under, the sensations that seduced him. Severus brought himself up, his hand releasing Harry's cock and Harry let out a silent cry as Severus pulled his hips again, fingers grabbing around his waist to position Harry's body so that his stomach rested over the man's thighs. Fingers slid across his spine, against the sweat that had built up from the heat in Harry's body and the pleasurable fire inside of him was too much. Severus bent forward, a strong hand tangling in his messy dark brown locks, those hips thrusting in short, hard movements.

Harry's mind was hazy with the smoldering pleasure, vision so blurred with tears and the stimulating oversensitive ropes of pleasing sensations that roused his skin, had him panting heavily against the sheets, his hands grasping the sheets weakly, his face so flushed, lips so shined, blue eyes barely open and streaming with that desiring light.

"This is where you belong," the man whispered the growl, thrusting harder, "at my side…with me…_Harry_…"

Harry came, spilling out onto the sheets, his vision darkening, his heart crashing inside of him, much too full with all these words that had been said today, much too charged with the memory of that restaurant, so alive, so happy and the light inside of that wonderful place seemed to trickle into his shadowing mind along with the rolling waves of pleasure, like the ocean, the strength of it, pushing and towing him; he felt too much and the last thing he heard was Severus's bated breath saying: "I'm coming…_Harry_…"

* * *

When he opened his eyes the unbearable heat in his body seemed to have lessened to a very comfortable warmth. He could feel the blankets that surrounded him. His eyes eased open and a hand was brushing through his hair. He tried to say his name, Severus's name but his lips wouldn't work; his voice was of course, gone. He eased his eyes open. He was so sleepy.

"Are you alright?" he heard the man say.

Harry nodded, his head resting against the comfy pillows. He could feel the soreness in his legs and backside. He must have been asleep for a while.

"You passed out…" the man said quietly. "I'm sorry…I should have implemented more restraint…gone slower…Does it hurt at all?"

Harry closed his eyes.

"No," Harry mouthed. "It felt good…too good…"

"You're tired," Severus said softly.

Harry nodded and opened his eyes again and saw the man sitting up in bed, an open book upon his lap. He was shirtless but wore his sleeping pants. Harry could feel his own boxers on him.

"I cleaned you up…and the sheets…" Severus said lightly.

"Is it tomorrow?" Harry asked soundlessly, breathing in the smell of clean linen.

"Yes, it's Christmas Eve."

Harry smiled, he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

"I don't know your birthday…" Harry muttered silently.

"January ninth," the man answered and that hand brushed aside his bangs.

"Soon…"

"Go back to sleep, Harry…" Severus said and he kissed him kindly. "I love you." Those words caressed over his lips. He smelt mint.

"Love you too…" He didn't know if his lips had moved to those words or if he had said them out loud into the wake of his dreams.

* * *

Severus could hear the sound however faint but it was soothing him into awareness, calling back the feeling in his all too relaxed body. He opened his eyes, blinking the bleariness away. The room was a bit brighter than he would have liked but he saw the boy, sitting up in bed dressed in that blue jumper and his pajama bottoms. The boy was sketching, his sketchbook propped up against his thighs.

"Are you drawing me?" Severus asked languidly.

Those bright, kind eyes hurried to see him and he watched the rose color bloom in that skin.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"Morning," Harry signed, his art pencil in hand. "It's early…you can go back to sleep…"

"What time is it?"

"Seven thirty," Harry signed to him.

"Why are you up?" Severus said, glancing at the clock. He brought down the arm that had been raised above his head somewhat during sleep and it tingled with pinpricks.

Harry's eyes looked over his sketch and he caught the discontent in them.

"Harry," he said.

"It was just a nightmare," Harry muttered mutely and a hand scratched his cheek nervously.

"What—" Severus began but the boy shook his head, lowering his eyes. Severus decided he would let it go for now, perhaps revisit the subject when he had woken up fully. "Let me see."

Harry glanced at him briefly and looked away as if thinking if he should show the drawing to him. Severus sat up and took the sketchbook from Harry's lap and reclined back against the pillows. He stared at the pencil sketch. Harry had gotten better; the details were smoother, the outlines softened and the shading made the likeliness of it all the more appealing. Harry's sketches were always so dynamic, so careful as if they reflected the boy's compassion.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

Harry hesitated, biting his lip and then shook his head.

Severus began to flip through the pages. The sketchbook was almost finished, its papers cluttered with various drawings in graphite or ink, even colored ink. They were quite exquisite to his eyes as he studied them. Harry had drawn so many things, flowers, his owl, a few of Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, the snowy setting outside his dorm window, the window more closely examined with pencil and then with ink, there were drawings of fish, of seashells, of his trainers, the Lovegood girl and her odd accessories, potion bottles, a cauldron, hands, a quill, many versions of a cat, a lamp, the boy's face, his glasses, some fruit, a golden snitch, a page cramped with eyes, _his_ eyes, it went on and on, the skill so distinguished and easy in these pressed pages.

"They're very good," Severus said softly as he closed the sketchbook and handed it back to Harry.

Harry, who sat on his knees, gave him a timid smile.

"Breakfast?" Severus suggested as he sat up, rolling his shoulders to stretch them.

Harry nodded his head quickly. Severus brushed a hand through the boy's hair and got out of bed and went into the restroom, closing the door. He used the facilities and washed up, brushing his teeth as he stared at Harry's toothbrush that was upright in the holder. When he was done he left the room and dressed in a gray dress shirt and black slacks. Harry had already dressed in a black thermal and light jeans and the boy was slipping on his gray trainers while seated on the bed. Severus joined him as he put on his dress shoes.

He could tell that whatever nightmare had Harry stressing over it throughout the day. He had made omelets and toast for breakfast served with sliced fruit which Harry enjoyed as he watched across the table. It was Christmas Eve and the day seemed to fly by. Harry spent a lot of time drawing as Severus read a new book he had gotten from the muggle bookstore. Harry seemed tired and out of sorts however. When he would want to tell Harry something or ask him something it would be a while before the boy's attention pulled away from his sketches.

Severus wasn't oblivious to Harry's restlessness. The boy must have had a dream regarding his godfather once again and now Harry was faced with that harassing reality that he was over the half year mark of being without a voice and he was probably trying not to think of it, trying not to ponder of what the answer was to save his voice. So Severus was much gentler with Harry that day to avoid stressing the boy further. He made them lunch silently and Harry had thanked him but had only eaten half his meal.

They spent the afternoon on the couch once again and Harry had, on his own, moved to lie on his lap and fell asleep. When the boy woke up and Severus was halfway finished with his interesting novel that was set in colonial America and was reading a murder scene, Harry signed that his head was hurting. Severus responded promptly by giving the boy a pain reducer and then Harry fell asleep once more, his sketchbook lying open on the glass table.

He had taken it up in his left hand as his right held his novel and could see the boy had drawn a large black dog in ink and a rather tiny drawing of a stone archway but it was scribbled out, the ink smeared. The page before Harry had drawn lilies and an unfinished picture of his mother or rather Lily's face was too faint to make out with the soft pencil lines, unsure, as if Harry really couldn't bring out the memory onto paper…

He set the sketchbook aside feeling slightly remorseful, his chest heavy as he stared down at Harry's sleeping form. He swept his hand through the boy's hair gently. He wished he could take the boy's painful memories away, just slip them out from his head so the hurt would be gone, the grief, and he was such a commoner to grief but these passing days, he had forgotten how it felt as if it had disappeared and all he could really feel was the calming content that Harry gave him, the excitement during sex and even when they fell asleep. It was just the touch of Harry's skin, seeing the boy's expressions throughout the day, his silly abashment when he would excuse himself to use the lavatory, just knowing that body and the way Harry's clothes fit, trying not to stare so much but it was ridiculous, he wasn't used to acting this way, to being so…present to everything but it was the way things were and he wouldn't change it.

When Harry woke up they had played a board game, an old trivia game that Harry discovered in his drawers where he kept the chessboard. It was another muggle game and the boy was intrigued. So they played and he had won the three rounds in a row, aggravating the boy though he had contemplated letting Harry be victorious but his ego was persistent and Harry always looked so appealing when he was flustered, eyes wide when he would see how much sand was left to fall in the game's hourglass.

They had dinner and Harry had been cheerful again as Severus served the boy's favorite treacle tart for dessert. Afterwards they went for a walk, bundled up in their coats and scarves and gloves. Harry had a task he needed to complete; retrieving his pile of presents from his dorm and sending them off with a few of the school's owls and the boy's own to the Weasleys, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Harry had smiled through the whole ordeal and watched the birds take off.

They went out onto the grounds next. Harry ran for a bit through the snow as Severus kept his eyes on him as well as watching the twilight blue of the sky fade away into the dark, clear night. The boy's form was very attractive in this setting, the white steam leaving his parted lips as Harry was out of breath, cheeks so red from cold but eyes so awake from the frigid air that enveloped them.

And he could see those deep topaz eyes staring up at the world, head full of wandering thoughts and he knew when they would go back inside the castle and down to his rooms that the scent of winter would linger over Harry's body well into the morning, even when they showered that night and got under the covers with the strong smell of fresh linen for he had washed the sheets and pillow cases and Harry's pajamas, it was still there, as Harry slept soundlessly, planted over the back of his neck where he would rest close to it, breathing in that life as if it would enter him and live inside his body, his veins.

How silent the night was and how lovely his world felt when he could hear in his home that had once been so solitary, so lonely, so deadened, his footsteps accompanied by Harry's own…

* * *

He could hear his screaming, loud and pulsing through the pitch black underneath his eyelids, could smell his own fear, could almost taste the blood in his body, his heart ripping, shredding in his chest. And he opened his eyes and there was his godfather, Sirius, falling through that Veil as the wisp of the ghostly material fluttered for too long after the man had disappeared, after that curse had struck him square in the chest, after the life in his eyes just seemed to shed away, the light gone, burned out, expired.

And he saw their faces, Death Eaters in their masks, swarming out from the darkness as he ran with that fear trapped over his body and he could hear her voice, Ms. Gardiner's voice, so light, much too faint like a whispered melody saying:

"Harry…you can see him, he's with you…what do you want to say to him, Harry?"

And then Sirius's voice whispering to him as if it were against his ears:

"Come find me, Harry…I'm here, come find me…"

It was too painful, the truth, it was much too hard to know it, to know the man was dead, _really_ dead and those moments, where he had been by Harry's side, fighting against that evil together. What had Sirius been thinking? Had he been angry? Did he love him? How much? How had he treated him when he was a baby? How had he felt knowing that Wormtail had betrayed him, had betrayed his mother and father? James? His best friend?

Why did he want to forget Sirius in this dream, in this nightmare? Forget that love? Forget his death but at the same time why did he want to remember Sirius? To hold on so tight to that life he had lived, even in that house, even in that dark, dank smelling, wretched, miserable house? He should have done more…

_I'm sorry…I'm sorry Sirius, I'm sorry that you needed to save me…I'm sorry I made all of those mistakes…I'm so, so, so sorry…_

_ Harry…Harry…_

"Harry, Harry come now, wake up, Harry you have to wake up it's just a dream."

His gasp was so sharp that it stung his throat and he sat up in bed, his heart hammering so badly it hurt his chest as he clutched at it. He was sweating, his face and lips numb and yet hot, he couldn't breathe, his throat muscles pained him and he was so dizzy.

"Harry, calm down, it's alright," it was Severus who had called out to him, that voice wrapping around him like a chain to carry him out of the chaotic, spiraling nightmare that had played back from the night before where even in the dream his thoughts had been racing. He had been sobbing in his sleep.

Severus was close to him, a strong hand over his back where his shirt was sticking to his skin.

"Just breathe…I'll get you some water," Severus said and the man was gone from the bed and Harry was still trying to get his lungs to work. He rubbed at his face.

Severus was back with the glass of chilled water that Harry drank slowly and the coldness of it soothed his stinging throat.

"I'm sorry…I woke you up," Harry said silently as his shaking hands held the cup.

"It's fine," Severus said. "Are you alright? You were…in a bad state, thrashing really…" The words were a bit muttered as if the man didn't want to say them.

"I'm sorry…" but those words brought him back to Sirius and the Veil and his eyes burned with tears.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do…" Harry's lips managed. "I can't stop feeling like this…I can't save him if he's already dead…"

"I know, Harry…" Severus said gently.

"Did you feel this way? When she died?" Harry said mutely and then he realized what he had said though his head was hurting so much he felt like he would pass out. "That was a stupid question, I'm sorry…"

"I did," the man said quietly. "For a long time, for years…"

Harry lowered his head.

"I feel sick…" He couldn't take the ache in his head anymore.

Severus's lukewarm hand fell over his forehead.

"Because you have a fever," Severus let out and he was so quick to get to his feet again as he left the bedroom.

Harry glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning. It was Christmas.

Severus returned with two vials of potions which he opened for Harry and helped him swallow. The bitterness was awful and he chased it down with the rest of his water. The man took the cup away and left again. He came back and Harry realized he had an ice pack with him wrapped in a hand towel.

"Lie down," Severus said.

Harry did so, feeling the effects of the Dreamless Sleep and whatever else he had taken working its way over his senses. The chill of the pack that the man placed over his forehead was so calming somehow. Harry closed his eyes and then opened them to stare at Severus and that worry in those black pools.

"I'm ok…" Harry said silently. "With you…I'm ok."

And before he knew it he was asleep.

* * *

Harry brushed his teeth that morning feeling much better. He didn't think about the nightmare, he didn't want his Christmas cheer to be squandered nor did he want to worry the man or hinder Severus's holiday spirit even if that face looked so composed all the time. Severus was in the kitchen preparing breakfast, dressed in his usual school attire with that crisp white collar because today the teachers were doing their secret Santa and the man had to attend.

Harry was dressed nicely today, a dark blue and white plaid dress shirt and dark jeans, his boots, and a warm white and gray knitted argyle pattern cardigan. He combed his hair neatly and hurried out of Severus's bedroom to find the man setting down their plates of fried egg, toast, and baby tomatoes. Harry smiled when he came up to the dining table, grinning widely actually.

"Happy Christmas!" Harry signed.

"You've said that to me four times now, Harry," Severus said, smirking. "Happy Christmas."

"I'm just excited I guess," Harry signed.

"You're not nervous?" Severus said and sat down.

"Why should I be nervous?" Harry signed as he took his seat.

"You're seeing Ms. Gardiner today," Severus said.

Harry felt the heat lash over his cheeks as his eyes broadened.

"You forgot?" Severus said and raised an eyebrow.

"No…I…Today's Wednesday?" Harry signed clumsily.

"Yes, it is," Severus replied nonchalantly. "And your sessions are mandatory and essential despite it being the holiday, Ms. Gardiner is highly aware of this."

"Oh…" Harry could only reply as he stared at his egg.

"Don't stress over it," Severus said. "She's more than understanding of our relationship…Ah, don't go into detail if you would, I prefer my private life to be kept…_private_."

Harry blushed.

"What have you told Ms. Granger?" Severus said almost strictly.

Harry let his eyes look up at the ceiling, suddenly finding it quite interesting.

"Harry," the man pressed.

"Nothing…much," Harry signed.

"You're lying and you're not even doing a good job at it," Severus snapped.

"Really, she just knows that we're…together," Harry signed, trying to look at the man but failing miserably.

"That fact is obvious," the man said tightly. "Now tell me, how much of our relationship have you articulated to the girl?"

"You're mad," Harry signed.

"No, I'm not," Severus said. "Tell me what she knows now."

Harry pressed his lips together as he stared into those firm black eyes.

"_Potter_," Severus lowered his eyes.

"She knows that we love each other…" Harry signed.

"And?" Those eyes were trying to glare the truth out of him that Harry was afraid to admit.

"She knows…that we've kissed…and…done other stuff…" Harry had to look away.

"Does she know about the picnic?" Severus suddenly let out.

"She knows that we're intimate and you're worried about the picnic?" Harry signed.

"Does she?"

"…Yes…" Harry nodded.

Severus looked away, his head turning and eyes glowering at the kitchen door and Harry could see the blush in the man's face and it took every ounce of self-control he had to not just laugh.

Severus began to eat, looking a bit bothered.

"Don't be embarrassed," Harry signed.

"It's appalling enough that she knows…and that Gryffindor know-it-all might as well be her blasted clone," Severus was muttering now as he stabbed his egg with his fork.

"I thought you two were friends now," Harry signed.

"Friends?" Severus looked up swiftly from his plate. "Where on earth could you have possibly picked up that idea from?"

"You smiled at her," Harry signed trying to be brave under those agitated eyes. "And you danced with her and told her…how you felt…"

"We are not friends," Severus said and that nice shade of red was still evident in the man's face. "How could I possibly want…? When she's so…intrusive and pretentious and mindlessly cheerful every moment of the day…Those _awful_ meetings I had with her…I had no other choice and she practically, no she did, against my will, invite herself in and drink my tea and express just how infuriating she was—"

"You _are _friends," Harry signed, smiling.

"_Harry_," Severus hissed. "I will not repeat myself—"

"It made me jealous…" Harry signed. "I was actually mad at her, you know…"

And Severus's composure was suddenly back and the man's eyes were focused on him, trying to hide that interest in his abrupt confession.

"Really jealous…" Harry signed and he couldn't look the man in the eyes. "You looked…nice together…and…I guess…I thought like you did…for just a bit…that you could be better off with someone else…a woman like her…but…I loved you too much to accept that…I was going to tell you…so many times but I…don't know…I was afraid you were trying to forget about me…But I'm happy that she helped you…that she did that for me…"

Severus did not reply but looked down at his plate again. Harry started to eat his breakfast, keeping the small smile on his face.

When they were finished with breakfast Harry had gone back into the bedroom to pick up Ms. Gardiner's and her sister's presents from his bag. Before they left Severus had taken a thin, rectangular shaped present from the pile under the Christmas tree and handed it to him without saying anything to Harry. Harry took the present carefully and could see that the small silver tag read that is was for Ms. Gardiner. Harry hid his smirk from the man by turning around quickly. Once Severus had taken him to the Headmaster's office he told Harry he would be in the Staff Lounge where the small party was to take place. The man didn't look pleased about attending the festivities at all. He then spoke the password and Harry was on his way to see her feeling the anxiety spread through his body like a wildfire.

He saw here, with her long hair down and waved, dressed in a red winter coat that covered her outfit but Harry could tell she was wearing a dress, her long legs wore black stockings and her shined jet colored high heels looked elegant on her. She belonged at one of those fancy dress parties that his aunt and uncle were always invited to but she'd obviously be the eye catcher in the room…

But his heart was shivering as were his hands that held the presents. Ms. Gardiner looked up from her small stack of notes on her clipboard and those dark green eyes connected with his blue ones that he knew couldn't hide the fear he felt and he didn't know why. Was he ashamed? He could never be ashamed of Severus but he was ashamed that he hadn't told her the truth when she had confessed her doubts and her life to him, when she had talked about love…

"He told you, didn't he?" were the first words she said before smiling softly at him, her expression already so full of that kind acknowledgment.

He moved forward slowly, staring at the ground and he sat across from her, the presents in his lap. There was a weighty silence in the room even with the faint whimsical instruments and their tunes.

"Harry…" she might have whispered.

Harry shut his eyes, calming his nerves. Would it always feel like this when someone would know the truth? It hurt, it did, like it had with Hermione even though he knew she was supportive, had given Severus that push he needed to follow his truth.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed. "I was…I thought…you wouldn't understand even if you're the most understanding person I know…I was afraid…I didn't know if you could accept this sort of love…if you could...respect it and not find me…not think I was some kind of…freak…" It wasn't the word he wanted to use because it felt like it was too harsh but he didn't know how many people would be like Sophia Gardiner and Hermione Granger in his life. If they walked, hand in hand, he and Severus, through the streets, how would people look at them?

It didn't matter though, he belonged with Severus and that was that. He didn't care for fate or things like soul mates…

"I love him…I love him more than I can…understand…" Harry signed.

"Harry…" Ms. Gardiner said quietly. "We never know who will be the ones who will stand by us through anything…We could have an idea in our heads of what we want them to look like, what we find attractive, but hearts don't work that way…at least, that's how I see it…We never know how we will meet that one person or if we're even aware of it at first and how instant it can be is frightening…It can confuse us, torment us but…its inevitable when two people feel that way about one another…It was a friendship, yes, at first…but what you do for him as he does for you…what no one else is capable of…That reaction, Harry…it's like a storm packed inside your heart…you can't control it. It's a natural compulsion…"

She had taken his right hand and gave it a light squeeze.

"I'm happy for you," she said. Her hand slipped away from his.

"Thank you…" He didn't know what else to tell her.

"You're quite the dancer," she said softly.

Harry blushed.

"Only when I'm intoxicated," Harry signed.

She laughed cheerfully and then took up her hand bag and pulled out three presents, two of which were wrapped in a shimmering gold paper and tied with red ribbon and the third was wrapped in dark blue with Santa and his reindeer printed on the paper and a white bow tied to it.

"One is for Professor Snape, the other is from Emily," she said.

Harry smiled and they exchanged their presents.

"He got you something too," Harry signed.

"Open yours first," Ms. Gardiner said.

Harry did so carefully. It was somewhat heavy. It was an art book, its pages filled and detailed with art history, famous paintings and techniques in every art medium; he already felt himself growing immersed in the first page. He smiled as he closed it; the cover was a work of art in itself, vibrant with splashes of paint that reminded him of the day they had done their collage together. On top of the book there had been a set of ink refills for his fountain pen which he was happy to have considering he was on the last one of the other set she had gotten him. He opened her Christmas card where she had written a little message in her very graceful penmanship.

He opened Emily's next which was the Santa printed wrapping paper. It was a silver box and inside the silver box was a snow globe which Harry had to look at closely to see the little scene. It was a bare dark tree with extended branches in a white snow covered field and below the tree was what looked to be a dark gray wolf standing before the slope where the tree was. He couldn't believe how detailed it was for being inside a snow globe. He shook it and watched the flakes whirl around the setting.

"Thank you," Harry signed as she was smiling gently at him. He had set the globe upon the Headmaster's desk. "This is amazing."

"She did enjoy making it," Ms. Gardiner said.

"She _made_ this?" Harry signed quickly, eyes broadening.

"It's a hobby of hers," she said kindly.

"A brilliant hobby…" Harry signed as he stared closely at the globe again. "Please tell her it's really good and thank her."

"Alright," Ms. Gardiner said after she had laughed lightheartedly. "Shall I open yours?"

Harry, with his warming cheeks, nodded.

He had gotten the two sisters gold bracelets and cashmere featherweight scarves in ivory and blue. Ms. Gardiner's bracelet in the center had a musical note and Emily's had a tiny star.

"They're so lovely, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said softly as she felt the material of the scarf.

"I got Emily something similar so you could match," Harry signed.

"I'm sure she'll be overly excited," she said and smiled brightly. She opened Harry's Christmas card and read his words of gratitude in them. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry smiled.

She opened Severus's gift which was an elegant looking glass picture frame; the mirror-like border was painted with cherry blossom branches. She chuckled and read the little card and smiled, shaking her head.

"What does it say?" Harry signed.

"An attempt at wishing me a happy holiday I suppose," she answered.

Harry grinned and they looked at each other.

"So…How are you and Royle?" Harry signed.

"We're quite good, actually," she answered with gentleness, looking down at the small pale blue box that held her bracelet. "We've had dinner…We talk a lot…and walk a lot together." And her smile was so warm that Harry could only be happy for her. This Christmas day seemed so blissful already.

"That's good to hear," Harry signed.

"So how are you, Harry?"

"I've been great…We decorated a Christmas tree," Harry signed.

"Really?" Ms. Gardiner said, raising her eyebrows and smiling.

Harry nodded but looked at his trembling hands on his lap, his thumb brushing against his palm.

"I've been…having nightmares lately…" Harry signed without looking at her. "There of him of course…and…I feel like…in the dream I feel like I could save him…but I never do…He still dies…and I dream of his house…and all I do is look for him but I never find him…it's just an empty house…"

"I don't want to think of all these bad things…" Harry continued and his expression was pained. "And I'm scared…because I know…I shouldn't feel guilty anymore…and it's been six months…he's been gone that long and…I've gone whole days without thinking of him once…and I feel…horrible for that…I don't know…" Harry clenched his jaw. "I still feel…how much it hurts when I do think of him…but…it's not as bad as before…and I wonder what will happen when the day comes that I don't feel anything at all when I remember him—"

"Harry, it's alright," Ms. Gardiner said in a low soft voice. "You'll never not feel anything when you remember him…that's impossible, you loved him and when people die…they leave behind their impressions of their life on us, the memories they gave us, who they were and you keep that, you keep it without knowing it, Harry…"

Harry rubbed at his face for the pain in his head was returning.

"I'm sorry…" Harry signed knowing that his body was shivering somewhat and his hands felt weak. "I don't want to talk about it right now…"

"That's perfectly fine, Harry," Ms. Gardiner said.

They spent the rest of the hour talking about Ms. Gardiner's family and their Christmas traditions, how her father would always insist on cooking but her mother wouldn't allow it so one Christmas they wound up having two turkeys to see which one had been better and Ms. Gardiner had said, though it was a tiny white lie, that her mother's had been far more delicious though it had been her father's cooking she had enjoyed most and Emily had lied along with her, winking at her father when her mother had her back turned.

She walked him to Gryffindor Tower where Harry found his gifts from the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus and Tonks under their common room tree. They said their goodbyes and Happy Christmas', hugging and she went off to Dumbledore's office again. Harry, with his hands full of presents, made his way back down to the dungeons where he unlocked Severus's office door and went into the man's personal quarters where he sat down on the couch and opened his friends' gifts.

Mrs. Weasley had knitted him a dark navy blue and gray scarf, Hermione had gotten him an art book like Ms. Gardiner had done though this one was specifically on folk art. Ron gave him a Quidditch whistle, the Weasley twins had given him a box of their Defense merchandise, Tonks had given Harry a new broomstick servicing kit, and Lupin's gift was a box of Belgian chocolates. He was grateful that the man had made a full recovery at St. Mungo's as he had written in his last letter to Harry.

Harry eyed his gifts and Christmas cards on the glass table and stood to discard the wrapping paper. He sat back down and felt a bit nervous as he wondered what Severus would think of his gifts. He didn't know when the man would be back. He got comfortable on the couch and began to look through Hermione's present. It was very interesting however the warmth in the sitting room and the crackling fire and the life of their Christmas tree and the fresh smell of pine had him dozing off after a half an hour.

A cool hand was brushing through his hair. He liked how good it felt as the peaceful senses of sleep were wearing away as he was awake now. He opened his eyes. His head was resting on the arm of the sofa, he was laid out on his back and the book was open over his chest, his hands resting on top of it.

"Folk art?" Severus's velvet voice reached him as he stared hazily up at the man. He could smell cinnamon on the man as well as his cologne.

Harry sat up and closed the book.

"Hermione gave it to me," Harry signed. "How was the party?"

"It outdid last year's," Severus answered. "Which is saying something…"

"Did McGonagall like her gift?" Harry signed and took off his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"Yes," the man answered. "How was your time with Ms. Gardiner? I see you've opened everyone's gifts."

"It was good," Harry signed and grabbed up the snow globe, showing it to the man. "Ms. Gardiner's sister actually made this."

Severus looked at it inquiringly as he took up the globe, studying the little snowy scene inside.

"The craftsmanship is commendable," the man said simply. He set it lightly on the table. "Shall I make us some tea? And then perhaps…we can open our gifts."

Harry smiled and nodded.

Severus went into the kitchen as Harry's heart felt constricted with nervousness. He wondered what the man had gotten him. Severus returned with their cups of green tea and set the tray down on the table. They sipped at their tea in the quiet of the room. Harry ran a hand through his hair after setting his tea cup down.

"Can I go first?" Harry signed quickly.

Severus smirked.

"If you wish." Those rich black eyes were so tranquil and the man's body language was calm. Harry stood and went over to the tree and picked up his gifts carefully and he looked at the man apprehensively.

"Should I go first?" Severus said evenly.

Harry shook his head, gathering his courage, and sat back down on the couch and handed his gifts over to Severus after a moment of hesitation.

Severus, who smiled at him almost benevolently, took them and set them gently on his lap.

"Start from the bottom," Harry signed. He was trembling now, his cheeks hot.

Severus did so, taking up the gift wrapped box on the bottom. The wrapping paper was a bright red with printed barn owls all lined up and dressed in Santa suits. Why had he chosen that to wrap his gifts with? It had just been a spur of the moment thing; maybe he had been much too nervous when he was choosing the man's presents…

Harry watched those slender fingers open the first gift with care and inside was a red box and when Severus opened the box he parted the green paper to see the folded garments inside. He had gotten the man two v neck sweaters from a catalog that sold the types of expensive clothes the man always wore. He had chosen them in black and a dark gray and when they had arrived by post they had felt incredibly soft.

On top of the sweaters was a fine pair of black dragon skin gloves. He hadn't really felt like getting the man anything to do with Potions since he thought Severus, being a Potions Master, probably had everything he needed that had to deal with the subject but Harry had seen them in another catalog and couldn't take his eyes off how detailed they were and he had thought how the material would fit the man's slender, flexible fingers…

Harry could feel the heat in his ears as those gleaming obsidian eyes traveled over the gloves and the sweaters, a thumb brushing over the soft fabric.

"Thank you, Harry," Severus said and when he looked at Harry he was lost in that warmth in the man's eyes.

He could only nod, his fingers holding tight to the ends of his sleeves. The man took up the thinner wrapped box and opened it neatly. Harry's heart was teetering. Was he always going to be under this much pressure when he would give the man a gift? He felt lightheaded and things were much too quiet in the room.

The second present was in a blue box and inside was a book of piano sheet music. All the collected songs were of similar genre to the song _What A Wonderful World. _Harry had thought, well pondered for well over an hour of frustration, if the man would like it and had to convince himself since Severus always played the piano piece looking so content that he would enjoy it hopefully, or at least find it a bit interesting.

The man seemed to be pleased as he picked up the muggle book and opened it gently and read the table of contents. He smiled and Harry felt a fragment of relief fall over him and the grip on his knees loosened a tad.

And then there was the drawing Harry had done that was set underneath the thin book covered by blue gift sheet paper. Severus parted the paper to reveal the ink sketch that had taken him several tries to get right. It was of the man of course, sitting across from him in their booth staring out the window as that radiant sunlight enveloped over him. The man was sitting with that straight posture and his pressed dress shirt and over jacket, his expression holding that ironclad composure, hands laced together upon the table, the slight wave in his hair that had caused Harry much irritation to get quite accurate, and then the sun's luminance as it was captured in the man's onyx eyes, how it glided over the man's features. He had even drawn a background of the restaurant…

Severus stared at the drawing for a while, for a lot longer than Harry had anticipated the man would which made Harry nervous all over again. And then the man met Harry's concerned gaze and those lips parted but before the man could speak Harry had signed fervently, his lips hurrying:

"I just…really like remembering you there…" Harry paused. "It's…quite perfect really in my head…I mean—"

"I love it," Severus responded quietly.

Harry could feel the kindling blaze in his cheeks.

Setting aside the box Severus picked up the third and last present. The box was a lot smaller than the other two and Harry had attached his Christmas card on the top of it. The man opened the white envelope and slipped the card out. It was a simple card, not adorned with decorations like Ms. Gardiner's had been. It was a white card and the front was embellished with a gold print of a Christmas tree. Inside he had written, or had done his best to write, how he felt:

_I'm not good with words like you are, not even close._

_And you're the first person I've ever fallen in love with. _

_And the only person I will ever fall in love with. _

_That's probably why it took me so long to realize that I loved you._

_I know that's as sappy as it can get…I'm really bad at this, aren't I? _

_But I should have realized how much it meant to me._

_How much it meant to see you, even in summer. _

_I loved Wednesdays then, opening the door _

_and seeing you and that blue shirt of yours. _

_That's embarrassing to write. This is supposed to be a Christmas card. _

_Sorry. _

_I love what the sight of you does to me, _

_how you always seem to settle this storming, maddening disorder _

_I have or whatever it is._

_I think about you too much. I worry about you too much._

_I stare at you too much. I know you're waiting to hear my voice_

_and you don't know how much I want to say_

_all these things, no matter how silly or unimportant they are._

_I want to whisper in your ear like you do to me._

_I want to whisper your name, I want to whisper that I love you too. _

_And I know the very worst isn't over yet._

_But when it is, I hope we don't change. _

_You're everything. I guess that's scary to know, because that's a lot to lose…_

_I'm sorry, I've run out of room. Happy Christmas. _

Severus closed the card and slowly unwrapped the present. Wrapped inside was a small black box. The man opened the box and here Harry felt the most nervous as the gift was revealed. It was a hunter-case solid silver pocket watch. The cover, Harry had thought, was sophisticated and eccentric. In the center the silver had been cut out and engraved into a tree with its diverging branches. Though protected by glass, the inside of the watch was visible through the branches. A roped ring around the tree had been engraved as well to add to the design.

The price had been steep but Harry wanted the gift to be special, to have refined tastes like Severus enjoyed though many months ago Harry would never have guessed no matter how shiny the man's shoes always were.

Severus looked at him, his expression unreadable but Harry said silently:

"Open it."

The man did so, taking the pocket watch out from the velvet bed it was placed in. The inside, Harry knew, did many things. One thing he had remembered was that the face glowed in the dark but all Harry really liked was that the inner workings of the watch were visible in that silver and gold. And he had it engraved inside on the back of the cover near the bottom of the circle. He hadn't really known what to put but decided on something short:

_More than Love,_

_ H.P. _

Every other idea he had come up with didn't seem to stick long enough in his mind. But he still felt silly as the man read it. Severus shut the pocket watch and Harry could see the minute smile the man put on, the serenity that grew in those black eyes.

"Thank you, it's wonderful, Harry," Severus said with softness. There was something else in those eyes besides that kind recognition, something Harry couldn't place.

"Really?" Harry signed.

"Of course," Severus said. "I am not accustomed to exchanging gifts or receiving such…sincere gifts and I would have preferred you not to have purchased something this…costly for me however…Thank you…" Severus moved in swiftly, a hand coming behind Harry's head to bring him forward to have his lips pressed against the man's own.

Severus came away and Harry opened his eyes.

"You can stop being so anxious," Severus said lightly. "Now, I want to watch you opening my gifts."

Harry nodded, his cheeks still quite red, and stood. He sat before the Christmas tree and the man's presents to him and felt Severus's eyeing him which made him all the more self-conscious. But he took up the first gift and began to unwrap it as carefully as he could.

There were a lot of presents, about twenty packages if he had counted right and of course he loved them all. Half of the items were clothes, pricey clothes considering the style and brands. Severus had gotten him many cardigans and collared shirts, all in dark tones of blue, black, and gray and a few were beige or tan with intricate patterns and buttons. He had gotten a few pairs of slacks and jeans, thin jumpers and a couple of casual shirts, a black leather jacket and a dark rusted brown leather jacket, a new pair of boots in black and a very nice charcoal gray scarf and a matching set of gloves.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed Harry continued to unwrap the gifts, his hands shaky. He had gotten a few books, two leather bound sketchbook journals, a new quill, artist ink in various colors, and (feeling a bit breathless now) a pad of a special kind of paper for watercolor paint, a pack of fairly sized canvases, and a medium sized black portfolio.

Harry sat there in the middle of the wrappings and ribbons and his stacked gift boxes and flushed face and lifted his eyes to find those black orbs looking very content as Severus placed down his tea cup on the tray.

"You have one more," the man said.

Harry, almost afraid of what the last present might be, stared at the rectangular shaped gift and its black bow as it had been set behind the rest of the presents. He stood and bent down to pick it up and was surprised to find it was heavy. He carried it over the couch and sat down, placing it gently on his lap. Harry glanced at Severus and then he unwrapped the Christmas present slowly. It was, as he examined it closely, an art box, its wood dark like cherry and shined and in the bottom left hand corner were his charmingly carved initials: _H.P. _Harry took off the Christmas card that was taped upon it and clicked open the box.

And what was settled inside made his eyes broaden and caught short the breath in his lungs. There was paint, tubes of it, oil and acrylic and watercolor from what he could read; there were brushes all lined neatly in two different rows, pencils, erasers, tape, a steel ruler, clear empty bottles; all of it was so precise as it shined colorfully.

Harry lifted the top part to see the bottom compartment where there were wrapped sticks of what could only be charcoal and there was a small wooden dummy figurine of the human form, there was a palette and various other tools he didn't have names for. Harry gazed at the art box and its order of contents. When had Severus had the time to shop for all of this? Did he have catalogs like Harry? Did he think for hours like Harry had done? His mind was growing blank, his eyes a bit misty.

"This is…" Harry's numb lips moved to the silent words. "I…"

"I thought it was time you started painting," the man said gently. "It wouldn't be wise to let such a prodigious skill go to waste. I know you're sixteen and hobbies change but…I figured such adept talent could become…more than that for you…seeing how it's quite an adjustment from the usual blatantly reckless things you get up to. This is more peaceful and…harmless, I hope."

Harry smiled and turned to look at Severus. He nodded.

"It's…brilliant, really," Harry said mutely. "Fantastic…thank you, really, I…It's perfect." Harry closed the art box, feeling the smooth surface of the wood and took up the card. He opened the blank envelope and took out the card. It was a dark navy blue, the feel of it like thick parchment and it had a silver wreathe printed on the front. He opened the card and there were only a few lines written in the man's neat, close scrawl:

_I know the quake of your lips _

_I know the life in your bright eyes _

_I know the silent compassion of your heart _

_I know your soul, the sweetness of it _

_And I will know, beyond all doubt, that some things last _

_Stay close to me, for your heart is my home_

_Stay close to me, for my heart is yours _

_-S.S. _

Harry read the inked seven lines thoroughly and lifted his eyes to focus on the man's face, absorbed in those features, in the darkness of the man's eyelashes and how they fell closed when Severus blinked, the tint of color that inhabited the man's complexion, the strict, shaded line of his jaw and even the weak constriction of the fabric of the man's white collar. He'd never get tired of staring.

He wasn't used to it, he guessed, even now, he wasn't used to these certain gestures of affection, these heartfelt, significant things from the man. He wasn't used to how they made him feel no matter how abashed he would become and most certainly he was only sixteen but sometimes, in concise, dawdling moments of the day when there was that proud, bulky hush about the room, when his feet would feel much too warm from the fire, or when his nose was trapped in the scent of Severus's cologne and his own hair and his familiar shampoo, when drowsiness itched under his eyes, when he could see the man's face, outlined by light and blurred a bit, in his peripheral view, and when it was late, when it was dark, when he had restless urges to touch the man, to glide his fingertips across a wrist or over the back of a hand, to graze against a tailored sleeve, a clear button gleaming, or even to brush the man's black locks behind his ear, sometimes in these moments he felt like he had loved the man for years, like they already had that history behind them, a good amount of Christmas' and saved cards in a box along with letters and there would have been plenty of summers and lunch outings and birthdays and welcome homes and pictures on the walls and that mountain of memories that you mix up sometimes when you tell stories about one another to friends.

And sometimes, in the wake of the day where he had dreamed something horrible, when the indent of his pillow under his head was heated with that fear from a nightmare and his bones were still shivering, or when he would listen to the man breathe or speak in those elevating velvety tones, watching the man's throat move, those lips shifting and pausing, the tongue working out those various syllables, when they would eat together and he would gaze at his food, his utensils suspended above his plate, he would remember here that he hadn't said a word to the man, out loud, in his voice, not "Hello," or "Thank you," or "Severus," or "I love you, I love everything about you," and he wanted that, he wanted that common freedom again, so natural like the travelling, flowing waves of the ocean, so easy and he had to think, when he did have a voice, he should have spent that time saying things, a lot more things, that mattered…

Severus looked away and he picked up the gift from Ms. Gardiner and didn't open the wrapping paper with much care and as the man stared at the picture frame, its border a dark black with swirls of white, Harry did his best to stifle his laughter as the man's eyes were narrowed, lips in a straight line, his face set in leveled irritation as the small gold card read:

_Smile more. _

_Happy Christmas, _

_-Sophia_

* * *

It alarmed him when he had woken up that night to Harry's trembling body and those hands that clutched radically at the sheets and blankets, legs shuffling under the duvet, face sweaty and red, breath labored and cheeks wet with tears and for a moment, after the boy had fallen back asleep and Severus had stayed up for almost an hour watching over the boy's still, relaxed body he could have felt helpless.

He wanted to talk to Harry about Black, he did, he wanted to talk about these nightmares and the boy's grief and try to console him and perhaps even guide him on his way to recovery. He didn't know what it could be but he was beginning to believe in an idea of the answer or steps toward the answer at least. He doubted Harry's muteness could be the cause of something unexplainable and he didn't want to believe that it was too late, he refused. He knew of such plaguing grief and he knew what denial felt like.

But he didn't want to push Harry too far, he didn't want to come on strong especially when it was Christmas so once again he let the subject slide and the boy woke up that morning smiling and signing "Happy Christmas" before Severus could get into the restroom.

And at breakfast he couldn't hold back his inquisitiveness at what sort of things the Granger girl had been let in on and when Harry confessed that she knew of the picnic on the beach he felt that rush of embarrassment and he couldn't contain the reaction he gave the boy after. It was just like with Sophia who knew things before he ever told her of them and he would have preferred that the things he did for Harry, these sentimental gestures that at often times would take over his usual personality, would actually contort into some sort of persona themselves, and in the depths of his mind he would have these sappy, romanced scenarios played out and no matter how he tried to stop them he couldn't when it came to Harry and simply because every part of him knew the boy deserved it and the boy liked romantic things, those eyes when they grew glazed over with pure delight were proof and perhaps a smidgen of himself enjoyed the planning, or perhaps he was just as much of a hopeless romantic as Harry.

He couldn't help it; especially when he had picked out his gifts for Harry and he wanted to blame it on his competitiveness when he thought about all the people who would give Harry gifts that day just like it had been on the boy's birthday. Yes, competitiveness. He had gotten the clothes and a few other items by catalog but had gone out to an old art store he knew of to finish up the rest of the gifts and find the one thing he really wanted to get the boy.

He had returned from the Staff party (leaving early of course) with an expensive bottle of Champagne and a box of his favorite brand of black tea that Minerva had gifted him for she had coincidentally received his name for the secret Santa and a few unopened Christmas crackers. He had given her a fine black shawl and a peacock feather to add to her collection.

He liked the sight of Harry asleep on the sofa with an open book across his chest. He looked over the presents Harry had received, spotting the ones from Ms. Gardiner and a curious looking snow globe that he had to glance at once more before waking the boy.

This Christmas day was already more enjoyable then all the ones previous to it, especially since he had woken up that morning with Harry curled up against his back and he had let himself feel the boy's body heat over his skin.

He had never been one to want things, to desire things from other people, well, since Lily, and since living at Hogwarts he was accustomed to just purchasing the things he wanted, mostly books and instruments that dealt with Potions and he hadn't expected, for whatever reason, that Harry's gifts would be so considerate and he could tell that the boy had spent many moments thinking over such presents, how anxious Harry was while he opened them made him want to laugh. Harry should have known he really didn't have to worry at all.

The sweaters and the pair of gloves were practical, well made, the colors pleasing to his eyes and the book of piano scores gave him quite a nostalgic feeling as he read the titles. He knew how to play only two on the long list and there was Harry's drawing; it was like a photograph but more than that, it had more substance than that and he had thought was this how the boy saw him? Did his features really stand out that way in the light of the sun? He had believed the boy had exaggerated his looks, or maybe he just couldn't see himself like this in a mirror being who he was, for the things he had done…

But he was this way in Harry's memory; an uncomplicated scene as if he were so normal, as if their life was so simple, so easy, so lovely and to know that Harry had made him something; he wasn't used to feeling so content all the time.

The Christmas card's long message he had enjoyed very much, it had been tender and gentle and finally, Harry's last gift, which was the most stirring to his senses. It was tradition for a wizard to receive a watch at the age of seventeen and of course he was never presented with one in that house and never owned one and to see the hopefulness in the boy's expectant eyes, his lips parted justly in anticipation of his reaction, the innocence there could have tormented him.

The pocket watch was a fine work of skill, the solid silver added that weight onto his palm, the engraved symbol of the tree reminded him of growth and of the faith that he had almost lost. It was a magnificent present and he honestly couldn't find words to give to Harry.

He let his heart settle when Harry opened his gifts and he found amusement in how flustered and surprised the boy became after each gift was open, especially the art box. He wanted Harry to keep creating things, to draw and to find that peace in his talent, in his work, and to let it give him confidence, let him be allowed to think, believe, that beyond that horizon where those unforeseen things lurked that there could be happiness there and comfort and life and a home, like the words he hadn't been able to hold back by that river shined over with city lights; he had been more than embarrassed, more than ashamed, his willpower had wasted away right then and he didn't feel like himself, but rather like a boy, like Harry, like he hadn't grown up at all in that instant, like he still believed in those dreams he had kept secret even from himself.

Was that naïve of him?

He didn't give a damn if it was.

After finding places for their gifts and cleaning up the sitting room he and Harry spent a while in the kitchen preparing their Christmas dinner of roast turkey, potatoes, chestnut stuffing, cranberry sauce and baked bread and while the turkey was cooking Harry had helped him make a small Christmas cake for dessert, frosting it with butter cream icing and topping it with strawberries.

It was a filling dinner which they had along with glasses of the champagne to Harry's surprise though the boy liked the drink. Their conversation was all over the place throughout their meal and dessert and Severus told the boy what had happened at the Staff party, how there had been caroling which Dumbledore had required everyone to join in on, how they had to guess what was in the Headmaster's pockets, and how there had been too much wine (that Severus had avoided) which led to too many conversations on past love lives, missed career opportunities, a certain experimenting phase that Professor Burbage had gone through when she was younger and before they could ask Severus if he'd ever done such a thing and before he could hear the rest of Minerva's comment about that if she were twenty five years younger he left, quite hurryingly, before even more personal questions could be asked that might end with quite a few people weeping.

Harry's face wasn't just red from the laughter, the boy had drank two glasses of champagne already and when they sat on the couch to relax in the dimness of the sitting room and the liveliness of their tree he allowed the boy another glass which the boy had swallowed down much too quickly, exhibiting the same features from night of the dance; flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, but of course there was no dance floor to execute that rash courage and spontaneous energy.

So Harry had wanted music and adrenaline and Severus, finding the small magic record player he owned and a vinyl, set it up for them and Harry stood by the player as the room filled up with the soulful blues. He was beginning to wonder if he should have let Harry have the alcohol but seeing Harry's body sway, his foot tapping upon the floor, head rocking in time with the beat of the first song, smiling, his hand drumming the wood of the table, it was captivating, more so than the dance because they were alone, together and it was Christmas and he had this boy with him who he knew fancied champagne now and soulful music and dancing when he was intoxicated, whose body was loose with rhythm, controlled by the warm euphoria that blanketed his mind.

He eyed Harry and his swaying form as the boy stripped off his cardigan and unbuttoned the collar of his dress shirt. Harry was in love with this free feeling and Severus was as sober as ever being of straight mind to be able to recall every bit of this night.

It was as if Harry's body had to move, his hips had to swing in that provocative way, that thin waist, that agile, lean form so evident, so defined in the clothes Harry wore. The music wasn't nearly as fast as the band that had performed at the dance but Harry's body just seemed to know how to move to these songs and the boy was happy, his eyes bright and Harry drew closer to him, his hands took his own and tugged.

He wasn't one for dancing but they did dance together, slowly, Harry more so than him, their silhouettes moving over the bookshelves cast their by the firelight. He held the boy's hands and Harry would spin, he would come close to Severus's body and wrap his arms around his torso, that face smiling and laughing up at him, looking older, handsome, enticing, and there was no embarrassment, no shuffling feet, just Harry, dancing away from him as he went over to the glass table and opened two crackers; confetti went everywhere, in the boy's hair, on the floor, the table, and couch, and still Harry moved with the song, his head swinging in the unhurried rhythm.

Severus watched the boy put on the blue paper crown and bring over a red one to him. Severus, after Harry charmed him with his smile and the sight of the paper hat on the boy's head, put it on and pulled Harry close and a new song floated up from the record player and it was quite measured. Harry leaned against him as those hands held onto his back, head resting against his lower chest.

Champagne wasn't nearly as lifting as vodka and the sleepiness that had overtaken Harry's body could be felt as the boy's movements slowed. He directed the boy to the couch where he laid down and brought Harry to lie on top of him. For a while Harry rested against him, his head lying upon his chest and he could feel the boy's warmth, his shallow breathing, could smell that strong soap somehow so tantalizing to his senses.

He couldn't help but become aroused feeling the boy's body like this, Harry's weight, his limbs. He let his hand slide against the back of Harry's thigh, feeling that denim, feeling the lean muscle. He stroked the thigh, fingers pressing as his right hand rested on the small of the boy's back. It wasn't long at all before he could feel Harry's erection against his inner left thigh.

Severus took off the paper crown and set it on the table. He rubbed the boy's arse as Harry's body stirred and those blue, glassy eyes so enthralled with the light of the flames met his own dark orbs that were obvious with desire. Those cheeks were so red, lips so shined with that hue. Harry moved against him, coming up closer so their lips could meet and their groins could connect and Severus smirked into the kiss when Harry's hips began to rock slowly, their erect cocks rubbing together through their trousers and the heat spilled over him, rapid and abrupt and commanding and strong.

Things went by in a hazy, breathless, jumble after that. He took over the boy's body in the next hour or so, however long it lasted but it was eager, his impatience reigning over his will. He had pushed Harry up so that he was sitting on his lap as he had sat up, deepening their kiss, his fingers tangled in the boy's hair, pulling off the silly hat. His hands were everywhere in the next moment, tugging at the boy's clothes, rubbing his hand over Harry's groin, palming over the hot bulge, stiff and constricted.

He got to his feet, lifting Harry as the boy's legs wrapped around him as they continued to kiss with that fierce passion that was driving his senses blind with the desire he was under. Under the heavy and potent arousal it was a challenge not to just take Harry on the couch but he needed to be sensible, he needed to make it good for the boy and then it would be that much more blissful for himself.

Once in the lit bedroom he laid Harry on the bed and stripped him of his shoes and clothes with fervor and he was quick to get naked next and climb on top of the boy and kiss him till they were both gasping for breath and his hand fumbled for the bottle of lubricant in the dresser and he flipped the boy over, pulled him by the waist to his knees and, remembering to take the proper care with preparing the boy, he slipped in the first lubed finger. Harry's back arched into the sensation and soon enough when his three fingers were inside Harry, stroking his heated, wet walls and brushing over that pleasuring spot, Harry was panting and gasping against the sheets, hands clutching at the pillows.

He pushed his cock deeply into the boy and his eyelids shut as he felt how tight Harry was and that heat. He began to thrust into the hole, the slick, slow motion sending such mind numbing, pleasing sensations into his member.

It was highly erotic to his eyes to see Harry's lustful expressions and to feel the boy's quivering body as he held Harry's torso, thrusting in and out, knowing the boy was just as aroused as he was, just as stimulated, feeling that escalating, intimate, sensitive pleasure. The sound of their harsh breathing and his hissing gasps filled the bedroom.

He could feel the sweat on his brow, the temperature in his face, his flexing, tensing muscles as his jaw clenched, baring his teeth as he let out a huffed breath, keeping the moan low. It was the sight of the boy's back, curved so nicely, the soft skin covered in his active shadow and the light from above. He let his hands glide over the back of the boy's thighs, squeezing the skin, grazing over the boy's ribs as his hips rocked and Harry was gasping, hands clutching and dragging the silk sheets.

Those cloudy, gleaming topaz half-lidded eyes found his and he stared hard into Harry's face, into that red painted so intensely in the pale skin and he saw that tongue slip out and lick those lips, saw those teeth bite down on the supple flesh.

He was lost in this hunger, in this phenomenal, grappling scene as all of his senses were throttled with this one body that reacted to his, touching and thrusting and the excited friction was pure ecstasy, his heart beat was erratic, it felt as if there were a tempest inside of his body, his skin, his limbs so fevered with this need, this battling need.

He pulled out of Harry's body and turned the boy on his back quickly, grabbing Harry under his thighs and Harry let out a mute cry as he drove his cock back inside, swift and deep. The boy's arms were raised above his head, hands gripping at the sheets. Harry's member was leaking that lucid substance, stiff and ignored for too long. Severus began to pump the boy and Harry shut his eyes tightly, rearing his head back and letting out those silent cries of pleasure as Severus's thrusts were timed with his stroking.

He must have said things, breathless words of whim, erotic things that were meant for only the two of them to hear in this bedroom, alone and making love and making each other feel this force of pleasure, where his bones felt like they were melting from this increasing, ferocious, feasting heat, the scent of their bodies mixing as if becoming a sweet lovely toxin that drugged his already fogged mind, fogged with this hurried, soaring arousal that made him dizzy.

Harry was panting, eyes embellished and full with that fiery elation, unfocused, rolling up and eyelids shutting tightly, teeth clenching. Severus moved in and Harry bit his lip as his legs rested against Severus's front, the back of the boy's knees settled over his shoulders. Yes, the boy was very flexible. He came even closer, Harry's face only inches away from his own, Harry's legs up in the air, knees up by the boy's face, eyes tearful and so bright that his heart was brutally pained with how much he loved Harry, this body, this soul, this life that he was so close too.

He kissed him gently for a long moment while their bodies were still, their breaths shuddering, their hearts drumming in a crazed rhythm, the sensation of it building up like a beating tempo, rising and rising and wondrous and the gravity of it in his chest was consuming him, surmounting him, breaking all of his restraints until he felt that riotous freedom flying through his system, his veins, pulsing in his lungs, and he forgot his life before this, that darkness and sin, that agony and that coldness, he was lost in the iridescent glow inside the bead of Harry's necklace, in the want in the boy's blessed eyes, so striking, like that jagged line of lightning that crosses the stormy night sky through shades of black and purple and gray and Harry's tears were the rain and the boy's heart worked like thunder underneath his hand and he never knew that it could be like this, that he could feel this significant, this _real_, here in his own life that had entwined with another.

The boy's hand reached up, touching his flushed face and Severus took that hand in his, kissing it and holding tightly. He began to thrust into Harry's body again, coming closer as the boy's hands fell over his back, nails grazing his skin. He took hold of Harry's member once more and stroked it in that matching rhythm and he thrust harder, faster, holding the boy's body in place as his hips rocked back and forth and the pleasure was too much, made his jaw clench and he let out a moan he couldn't keep in.

Harry came as he watched the boy's face, dark brown locks of hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks so brilliantly red, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as he cried out noiselessly, his seed spurting over his stomach and chest as Severus pumped him, his cock stroking over that pleasure spot with every thrust and he could feel Harry's body tense, muscles clenching and when he fell from that splendid height his hold on Severus's body slackened, his legs tired, eyes dazed, body spent, satisfied with its release and his hands came under the boy's knees as he spread Harry's legs further apart and thrust deep and fast into the tight hole and the heated fever took over his urge, his need and his eyes took in Harry's body, laid out and spattered with come, panting and lovely and beautiful and his.

He came, hard, the pleasure rushing down on him like a cascade of fire that slithered over his brain and threw out any forming thoughts and he raised his head, gasping out sharply as he released himself inside the boy.

"Harry…" he managed as he struggled for breath. "I love you…"

And it was true, utterly and absolutely.

Harry's lips formed those returning, silent words as the boy's eyes looked entirely sleepy.

After a hot shower and after they gathered themselves under the covers he pulled Harry close and kissed his forehead softly.

"Happy Christmas," Harry said noiselessly and those eyes closed and in only a few seconds the boy was asleep.

He turned onto his back and his hand picked up the small box and he retrieved the pocket watch from it and opened it. The face glowed turquoise in the dark of the room and enlightened the boy's engraved words.

_More than love, _

Yes, it was, it most definitely was. And he would fill this time, their time, their life with it. He would spend this time and its illusion, use it wisely, because no matter how endless it seemed in nights like this where he felt he might hear the so soft sound of the boy's sleeping breaths forever, so closely to him that the heartbeat was there in his ears, so near, so impossibly near as the warmth of their bodies spread between them so kindly, like sunlight somehow living in the darkness, so connected as if the choice to stay was always easy even if tomorrow there could be fear and loneliness, and so closely to him that in their dreams they were still lying together, outside and in summer listening to the waves embrace the shoreline.

There was no room for regret.

He set the time and the date and watched the shined silver second hand wind in its circles and he realized the courage he had found, he understood fully now, that after thirty six years he was finally starting over.

* * *

A/N: This will be the longest chapter of this story and I know it was long but there were so many scenes I wanted to write and the words wouldn't stop but I hope it wasn't too slow or boring or bad. I'm sorry that it took a bit longer for this chapter to be up, I did not expect to have so much college work but I'm almost finished with it all and I am excited to write the next chapter.

I hope the readers enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next. Please review if you have the time, it really inspires me.

For the next chapter: New Years, the new term starts bringing with it many challenges Harry isn't so willing to face.

I'm sorry for any errors I may have missed.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Complaints? Don't hesitate to PM me.

I hope everyone is doing well.


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